Jondesu

Remart thumped-stepped through the Terris village. He didn’t have to be as cautious about the appearance of being a Feruchemist as most, as his metal leg was a good cover for his abilities. Having a metalmind inside that no Inquisitor could detect was just a bonus. He’d found the secret years ago. Whatever this mystery metal was, he didn’t figure it was worth killing for, considering all he could do was not be fat when he chose, but he knew the Steel Ministry would kill him just for having the ability, minor as it was, so he’d had the leg made of a useless alloy just in case, sure to throw off any prying metal senses. They could test it all they wanted, and they wouldn’t find any metalminds on him. Who knew a simple layer of aluminum around the core of his leg would be so useful? —————— Just checking in with some RP, don’t know how involved I’ll be in the next 24 hours or so, but I’m around.

Yeah, no reason to be foolish now. Pass turn. Good job getting all that before I even saw the clue.

Remart shall return.

There should be a new Quick Format game coming soon, which moves really fast, and another Long Game soon too. Both should have signups begin within a few days I’d imagine. Signups for the LG would normally have gone up just before the last one ended, in fact, but mine was shorter than most.

No one slept well that night. Malin was allowed to bed down with the group, but under watch, and Findecano kept a close eye on him as he took a swig from his canteen. It tasted foul and odd, and he immediately drank from his cleansing flask he carried, which contained an herb that worked well as an antidote to most poisons. Had someone tried to poison him? He already felt sick to his stomach over how much had been lost, and the fact that among the dwindling group still remained a servant of evil who had killed many of those who started with them. Fade, Caddor, Eleryrn, all gone. Legolas… Mithrandir… How many more? At least one more, it turned out, when another disguise was revealed in the morning. The handmaiden of one of Findecano's aunts, forbidden from journeying herself but sent in the guise of the man Dorder, was struck down in the night. The Mordor daggers had to be running low, but they were still sharp. Findecano knew what he had to do, though he was loath to do it. The threat to the south would need to be faced, but now it must be himself and Morwe alone. No one else could die to his failure. When the others rose in the morning, the duo was gone. Malin, Itiah and Halve were not shown any mercy. —————————————————————————— Walin was killed! They were the Elven Handmaiden! The Game Is Over! Technically, the two sides are even in players, but with the Hand of Sauron still alive, the conclusion is inevitable. Full player list below: Player List: Docs: Evil Agents of Evil Spec Doc (The Barrow-Downs) I'll write up some thoughts, but a couple notes for now: First, yes, I trolled everyone. There were no Gondorian Spies. I honestly didn't ever intend to include them, though there had been thoughts at an early point in developing this game of having it be all three factions. Having the mere threat of a faction that didn't need to actual exist to alter the course of the game was both intriguing and amusing to me, so here we are. Second, I expected the poison to be a big part of the game, and while it didn't disappoint, I don't feel like it overwhelmed the mechanisms either. I didn't balance it, though, intentionally. Every player, regardless of alignment, had a coin flip. Each one got poison or didn't based on that, so I didn't know starting out how many vials of poison there would be or who would control them. Turned out that I didn't track it well, but right about half the playing field started with poison (go figure, RNG coin flipper, duh), but only 3 players died to poison, and only 1 was actually half poisoned, though @xinoehp512, you were about to discover the fun of not being able to speak except to respond. Sorry for the mixup with Snipexe, btw, but I don't think it ruined anything. I wish it had gone longer, though for my sake personally it's probably best it didn't, and thanks for all the great RP, ya'll! It was no @Amanuensis game in terms of RP, but it was fun! Thoughts?

The cycle is over! New cycle will be up shortly.

Findecano and Morwe were speaking softly just outside the camp when they heard sounds of a horse approaching at a rather rapid speed. The company quickly leapt into hiding places, where they had only moments to wait before a horse appeared around the corner bearing a rather disheveled looking man who carried a drawn sword. As the horse passed Findecano’s position the elf leapt up behind him knocking his sword out of his hand and then bundling him off onto the ground. They hit hard and the man was temporarily stunned, allowing Findecano to pin him with his forearm in the others neck. The others quickly circled and Glieven spoke first, “And who are you?” The man, clearly shocked and having no clear idea of what was going on, took several moments before replying, “I am Malin, I came this way in search of some wild men.” A smile had begun to grow on Bob’s lips. The hobbit had little difficulty seeing the humour in the situation. Findecano had clearly just mugged some poor man who was on a quest to rid the world of evil. “A likely story friend, as likely as if I was Beren and I had the Silmarils clutched now in my right hand!” The elf gestured wildly with this appendage. All he got in return was a blank stare. “Oh right you have no idea what any of what I just said is.” Findecano’s brow furrowed as if he was at a loss. "Where have these 'wild men' gone, then? We passed none but you, who has your weapon drawn and ready…" He spun quickly, ears pricking at a sound from the opposite side of the camp. Findecano silently and swiftly drew his sword, which had not yet been seen by those in the company. It was a light blue on one side, like a white-hot flame, and a flickering red on the other, almost as if both sides burned with an intensity seen only in a forge. What looked like a thin scratch ran down the backside of the blade, a tiny gap visible only at close distance and to the keenest of eyes, but it would have appeared to a master swordsmith that it would have been a weakness in the weapon, although this was not so. Halve and Itiah were the first to engage the enemy as the wild men leapt from the brush around them. Itiah felled one almost immediately, while Dorder and Suomynona were quickly engaged as well. Morwe's blade leapt into his hand, and he bisected an enemy from shoulder to hip, spinning to meet the next. An exceptionally large man drew up from the dirt next to the campfire, obviously having crept forward in order to catch the enemies unawares. Findecano met his eyes, identifying him as the group's champion, if not exactly its leader, and he strode forward resolutely to meet the giant. Swords flashed, and clanged against each other, and Findecano drew back once again, his blade having tasted the blood of the man's arm, but yet to score a serious wound. His hand went to his hip, where a small slice had been left by the man's blade, showing the enemy's skill. Grinning, he spun into the man's next strike, deflecting it upward and going in for a light cut across his midsection, but he found the other's sword spinning around with blazing speed towards the tip of his blade, looking for all the world as if blocking the strike would be nigh-impossible. With a swift motion and a slight click, Findecano separated his blades. The dual-sided sword split open slightly along the hilt, revealing that it was in fact twin blades, white-blue and golden-red, connected via a clever mechanism in the middle. They did not completely separate at this time, however, simply drawing apart a fraction of an inch, leaving twin points aimed at the incoming sword, which slid neatly between them. With a quick twist of his wrists, Findecano wrenched the sword of his opponent out of his grip, having pincered it between the two swords. Separating them the rest of the way and tossing aside the giant blade, the two swords flashed in the night across the nape of the man's neck, separating it neatly from his shoulders. Panting ever so slightly, Findecano looked around for the next opponent to find that all others had been slain as well. Malin, the man on the horse, stood over a fallen enemy, as did most of the others, though Bob the Hobbit was nearly trapped under a man that he tossed off himself with some effort, standing victoriously as well. "Well, that was unexpected", said Morwe. "What's this," cried Suomynona, pointing at a man under Glieven's feet. Glieven had buried his dagger in the man's neck, but plainly visible on its hilt was a symbol in the Black Tongue. Before Findecano could cry for him to stop, Suomynona's blade had swept across Glieven's neck, with Itiah and Halve burying blades in the man as well, ending his life. Findecano swore softly. "He was not working alone, I suspect. We now may not know who else has been sent to stop us." Wary eyes swept between the members of the company, now freshly suspicious despite their shared battle. They were still not united. —————————————————————————————————— Mafia has been lynched! They were a Mordor Eavesdropper! That was fun! I had to write a battle scene at least once. Day 6 has begun! Player List: I'm moving rollover back an hour to 9PM Eastern, which should better fit my schedule.

Cycle was over an hour and a half ago, sorry ya'll. Apparently 8PM wasn't the best time for me to schedule rollover. Anywho, new cycle shortly.

For several weeks the company journeyed south along the Misty Mountains through Dunland, past the gap of Rohan, over the Isen and south into the western Ered Nimrais. Here the going became treacherous and Morwe needed to stop and think so the company took a full day’s rest while Morwe and Findecano scouted around the area looking for a path. The trip had been largely uneventful up to this point. The company had journeyed in relative silence choosing to enjoy the surrounding scenery and beauty during the day. At night when all camped around the firelight the company grew livelier, often Fenerien and Narmacil would tell tales from their travels and often songs would be sung. Morwe was usually quiet during these times and everyone largely left him alone, his demeanor seemed to command a kind of respect. To say that the others were slightly intimidated by their tall, dark companion would be no overstatement. He often sat and stared into the fire his bright eyes dancing now and then as if lost in some ancient memory. One evening as they sat so, the conversation turned to Valinor, Caddor begged Findecano to sing a song about the blessed land. The elf finally gave in and did so, singing about Tirion upon Tuna and the beauty of that city. Morwe sat up and payed close attention to the song and after it was done he stood and began to sing his own song without any words of explaination. Although Findecano's song had been beautiful and soothing, it did not compare to the vision that Morwe seemed to conjure through his song. It was in a language that none of them knew and it sounded both primitive and noble at the same time. As he sang a vision seemed to come before all their eyes and they saw the elf fathers first stirring and waking beside the beautiful waters of Cuivienen. They saw them waking the sleep of the vegetation and teaching the animals to speak but very subtly and slowly an unnamed fear slowly crept into the song tainting everything. The sky in the north reddened and the ground began shook as in great wrath and anger and the elves hid themselves. Then a great rider on a white horse entered the scene and three elvish lords departed with him. These lords returned and spoke to the people urging them to come with them back to the place where they went. One however spoke out vehemently against this, but despite his words the majority left Cuivienen and only a sad few remained under the stars by the beautiful waters. The song ended on one indescribably beautiful and sad note. The others shook themselves out of the trance and looked up to see tears rolling down Morwe’s cheeks, the elf turned his eyes which were now open like infinitely deep pools of water that the moon shone down on. He looked into the eyes of each present and his gaze seemed to lay bear some of their innermost thoughts. The silence seemed to last for an eternity before a dark smile played across the lips of the elf and he said, “I have not sung that song in several ages, I forgot it’s beauty.” “That is by far the most beautiful song about Cuivienen that I have ever heard.” Findecano said. “Who wrote it?” Morwe’s dark smile spread wider as he spoke crpytically, “An old elf who was moved by much emotion.” The others looked at each other for in that moment it seemed that long years had rolled off Morwe and his face had been transformed to look like one of the great elf Lord’s of old. “But enough of sadness for tonight, you will have to forgive me that is one of the few songs I know and Findecano's beautiful song of Valinor summoned that from the place where I had buried it. Findecano, tell us of the Greenwood.” Soon the company was laughing and enjoying themselves once again but none of them forgot the marvel of the song which Morwe had sung for them. —————————————————————————————————— Caddor went to sleep that night dreaming of the song he had heard. Sadly, it was to be his last, as he succumbed to the poison he had ingested at least, never waking again from his slumber. Nearby, Elandera sat softly singing a song of her own, a mournful tune and one of great longing. She was feeling bashful and so was singing in private, which is why only the one who silenced her song was there to hear it. A Mordor dagger in her heart, her song died on her lips, her last breath one of beauty. —————————————————————————————————— Elandera has been killed! They were a loyal Companion! Cadmium Compounder has died! They were a loyal Companion! Day 5 has begun! Player List:

Sorry for the delay, but the cycle is over, new one up shortly!

Neither Morwe, Elrond or Glorfindel were seen for the rest of the day and much of the next. They oft times sat in silent council in Elrond's chambers, discussing many things. Findecano went about the task of collecting and preparing supplies for the journey very quietly. His spirit was subdued; he knew that he was following the path appointed for him, but he still felt misgivings. Could he lead this party to certain death? —————————————————————————— Others in the group were not so subdued. A growing mob had gathered around Rathm's room, muttering and growing into shouting. The elves of Imladris kept their distance from the scene, choosing to maintain their serene life without involving themselves in the outsider's disagreements. Thus, when the group broke in and beat Rathm to death, they did not interfere. Findecano arrived too late, finding a Mordor dagger as he'd feared, but not where he'd expected. It was located inside of Rathm's pack, marking him as one of the agents of Mordor that had been behind the deaths of Gandalf, Fade, and Eleryn. Findecano was gutted. How could he have missed that? Elsewhere, Legless, the alcoholic Elf, was being ignored by his kin as well. Shamed for his unusual affliction, he drank himself into a stupor once more. Unbeknownst to him, his alcohol had been tampered with, and he fell asleep for the final time, never to rise again. The group had almost forgotten about wyndlenquardra, who they discovered later did not actually arrive in Imladris with the rest of the group. Their loss was mourned only briefly and then once again forgotten. —————————————————————————— Rathmaskal was lynched! They were a Mordor Assassin! Bort has succumbed to poison! They were a loyal Companion! Ornstein has died to the inactivity filter! They were a loyal Companion! Vote Count: Rathmaskal (6): Cadmium Compounder, Elandera, GreenRover, Mafia, Walin, xinoehp512 Walin (2): Bort, I think I am here. Night 4 has begun! Player List:

The cycle has ended! Give me a few minutes.

Yes, with the same restrictions. Yes.

My apologies, due to a GM error, Snipexe should not be allowed to talk in the thread except to respond to questions, as they have been half poisoned. Normally I would not announce this to the thread, but since they have already posted, I wanted to make it clear that it was my error and let everyone know Snip shouldn't post again except in response to direct questions. EDIT: I also forgot to enforce the activity filter, and some of those players have now posted. I will be enforcing it at the end of Night 4 instead of Night 3 as originally planned.

PAFO EDIT: Writeup is added to the original post.

A council was called early the following morning, with all gathered together. The stranger stood next to Elrond, in a place of high honor, already a curious sight, for that seat was usually left open in honor of Celebrian who was now gone. Elrond opened by standing and raising his hand, all fell silent. “You have all been called here for one purpose, to hear our honored guest speak of his need." He motioned for the newcomer to begin. The stranger stepped forward slightly and spoke. "I am Morwe son of Eru Iluvatar. I have no father for I awoke in a forgotten age next to the waters of Cuivienen.” Here he paused and a slight murmur passed around the council ring before he continued, “To some of you I have another name. Catholmorn. It was under this name that I fought many long years before under the banner of Elu Thingol King of Doriath.” “That name I have heard, Morwe.” Glorfindel said, “Long you fought on the marches with Beleg Cuthalion and Mablung of the Heavy Hand, but I had heard that you perished in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.” “The servants of Morgoth wish that I had. That will come in its due time. When the summons of the Valar came many long years ago I did not obey but remained by Cuivienen for many long years before traveling the length and breadth of Middle Earth while Arda was still young. I made my home in the South, until the return of Morgoth when events sent me northward.” The memory of those events was still very painful to him, he would not mention them now. “I fought under Thingol and then Maedhros for a time and fled to the South again after the Nirnaeth, where word reached me that the Valar had come and that Morgoth was destroyed. There I have dwelt for the last two ages in peace.” Here he paused as if in thought. “Pardon me for interrupting,” It was Fenerien who spoke, “but it is said that the Catholmorn was known as the Darkblade for a sword that he possessed. I do not doubt your word but do you have this sword.” Morwe had turned to look at Fenerien while he spoke and now a dark smile pursed his lips. There was one he needed. He slowly drew back his cloak to reveal a sword that hung at his side. He slowly drew it and all present gasped slightly. The blade was completely black save for the very edge that was brightest steel, and for a strange design that was carved on the blade near the hilt. But this was not what was breathtaking, for within the blade there dwelt a strange and fell unlight, it seemed as if the light fell upon it and died as countless servants of Morgoth must have done so before this hour. Along the edge there ran the faintest flicker of red flame, but the whole sword seemed to be subdued as if it felt the mood of its master and was responding like kind. “Behold Morambar, The Black Doom, forged by me of old in the far south. More have perished on this blade then all the rest of you gathered here have slain put together. Orcs fear its name as much as Gurthang, the black blade of Turambar.” Narmacil spoke from his corner, “So this is the black blade that the goblin was so afraid of.” He quickly related his story to all present. Morwe’s eyes narrowed and to kindle slightly. “You have not come all this way to tell of tales of old, have you?” It was Findecano who spoke. Morwe turned to look at the elf, here was another, the dark smile played at his lips. “Well spoked son of Thranduil, I have not.” Here he paused and his whole demeanor seemed to darken, and Morambar seemed to kindle, although very subtly. “I have come from the South because a great evil has awoken there. As I have learned it is not the only one who has awoken in these latter days. Even now one dwells in Khazad-Dum, that which has been renamed Moria. In the tongue of the Sindar it is called a Valaruakar, in the common language a Balrog, the most deadly and fell servants of Morgoth.” Glorfindel seemed to shudder slightly at the mention of a Balrog. “The Haradrim awoke this fell beast, in some manner which I have not been able to discover. But unlike the Balrog of Moria, this foul spawn of Morgoth is not content to rule in one place. Even now he has set himself up as a lord of men and is gathering together an army to assail Middle Earth. I understand from Galadriel that another evil, far greater then any Balrog has also reappeared in Mirkwood, but here is not the place to speak of that. Suffice it to say that should these two evil be allowed to unite Middle Earth would not be able to withstand them.” Here he fell silent and the entire company looked at him for several minutes in complete quiet. “I have not come to seek an army, indeed unless my heart misgives me very soon you shall see the trials of this age that shall tell if Middle Earth shall stand or fall. Instead I seek a few who will be willing to journey back to the south with me and join in the stand against this creature of Morgoth.” Now silence reigned completely. ——————————————————————————— Silence reigned finally in other rooms, where those who had found themselves ill now collapsed in a final sleep. Zunn the Mad muttered no more. Gandalf the Grey, so long a strong servant of Illuvatar, would rise no longer, not even under his assumed disguise as Kadgar. And though poison had not slowly leeched through their body, Eleryn also failed to rise. Pinned to the bed by a Mordor dagger, her body was left as a message that not even Imladris was safe. ——————————————————————————— Alvron is dead! They were a loyal Companion! Dalinar Kholin is dead! They were Gandalf the Grey! Devotary of Spontaneity is dead! They were a loyal Companion! Day 4 has begun! Player List: Countdown will be edited in, to end at 8PM Eastern on July 26.

The cycle is over! New cycle up when I can, only have my iPad at the moment.

Most of the travelers went to weary sleep that night, wary as well, muttering to each other. Threats had been made, some nearly coming to blows, but in the end, the group had been separated and another tragedy was once again avoided by a small margin. Tensions were rising, however, and Findecano met with some of his kin that evening to discuss the matter. Before any conclusion could be reached, a sudden murmur ran through the elves assembled. At the door stood a figure, very tall indeed. Several inches taller then anyone present, he wore a cloak, somewhat tattered, that reached almost the ground, with his face partly covered by the hood. He took one step inside the door and removed his hood. The features on his face were difficult to describe. He was of a dark complexion and very tan, and his features were very proud and mighty. It struck Findecano suddenly that the face was very much like what he had imagined the great Elf Lords of old to be. By far the most singular feature in this singular face was the eyes. They were as two great bottomless pools and seemed capable of great expression, although now they were completely blank and unreadable. It seemed as if one was looking into a locked gate, but that great things lay behind that gate. The elf stood still for a moment, his gaze running slowly over all present, he ran quickly over most of the elves, but paused when his gaze hit Rinfeail and Findecano, he looked long at Fenerien with almost a sign of recognition. All was completely still which was very strange for elves, it seemed as if those gathered were in awe of this elf who seemed to have stepped out of whatever tale Fenerien was about to tell. "I seek Master Elrond, but there is one here who I know by reputation.” At this he looked at Glorfindel. Now this elf had been staring at the newcomer like everyone else, but not with the same awe that everyone else seemed to hold him in. He was rather searching his long memory for a recollection of the elf. There was an air of familiarity about him...he remembered the report Narmacil had made about the orc he had captured. He looked sharply again at the newcomer, yes this must be he. “And I think that I too know you by your reputation. Come, I shall take you to Master Elrond.” He beckoned for Findecano to follow and the three of them walked back outside into the air. —————————————————————————————— No one has died. Night 3 has begun. Vote Count: Walin (3): Cadmium Compounder, Devotary of Spontaneity, Elandera Xinoehp512 (3): Alvron, Bort, Snipexe Alvron (1): xinoehp512 Rathmaskal (1): Dalinar Kholin Player List:

The cycle has ended! I’ll need a little bit of time to get the new one up.

I’ll play again, but too much going on to be spymaster again.

As they arose in Imladris, safely arrived following the long journey, the companions found themselves well rested but yet restless still, knowing that their danger was no less for being in the realm of Elrond. Findecano in particular was troubled, and rose early to call upon the king. Instead, he found a good friend, Narmacil, one who had ridden with the Southrons but had been with the Rangers in the North for some time now. He had quite the tale to tell. "Two days ago, I captured a goblin lurking at the foot of the misty mountains to the north of here. I put the fear of my fire into him and he told me a very strange tale to save his skin. There have been reports among the goblins and orcs that a very tall elf clad completely in black and wielding a black sword has been seen in various places that would indicate that he was coming north. The last report was from Mirkwood, where it seems that this elf visited the Halls of Thranduil.” Findecano’s eyes narrowed at this. He had heard nothing of this visit, which meant Thranduil had been keeping information from him. “The goblin seemed to be in considerable fear of this elf, and I gathered from his rambling’s that he was slain many orcs on his northward journey, and that he has always seemed to be alone when he has done so. After branding him on the arm for good measure and warning him to never venture out of the mountains again, I let him go. Now this news seemed to be noteworthy enough for Master Elrond's ears. So here I am.” “Have you heard nothing of this, Findecano?” Fenerien, one of the elves of Imladris, spoke. “I have not,” the elf replied, “but Thranduil does not share all of his council." “Nevertheless there are many wandering elves. Why should this one impress the orc so deeply?” Fenerien asked. “The goblin seemed to be in considerable fear of this elf. He kept muttering ‘the black blade’ repeatedly while I questioned him.” “The Black Blade?” Glorfindel spoke now, “Might that be....” Here he trailed off and looked at Fenerien. “Catholmorn? The Black Blade of Doriath? I don’t know, it was rumored that both the blade and its wielder were slain in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, but he marched with the host of Maedhros and no clear accounts ever came back from the sons of Feanor.” “Darkblade?” Elrond queried, “The one who held the marches for so long with Mablung and Beleg?” “That is the one.” “If this is truly him, these are great tidings indeed, I wonder what one so great would be doing to just appear over two ages later?” “That is the question.” “Mention this to no one then. Fenerien, see what you can find out about this elf. Narmacil, please remain with us for a few days.” “I will, the rest will do me good.” The small group broke up. Findecano’s thoughts were full. He had not heard of Catholmorn, but if this story was true, what was he doing in the woodland realm? ————————————————————————————— Elsewhere in the fair realm, Itiah IV and Halve paid a visit to Fade, intending to play a practical joke on the oaf, but fled silently when they discovered a bloody symbol carved on the doors. The elves of Imladris burned the doors when they discovered the writing for themselves. Fade was buried that evening. ————————————————————————————— Araris Valerian has been killed. They were a loyal Companion. Day 3 has begun! It will end at 8PM Eastern on Monday, July 23. Player List:

The cycle has ended! New cycle will be up shortly.

Dustbringers is the Assassin in White! The game is over, and the Red Team has won! Good job, ya'll!

Findecano's song finally faded away, leaving the entire encampment feeling melancholy and yet somehow serene and peaceful, mourning the loss of the prince but ready to continue. They trekked over the easy land between Mirkwood and Rivendell, for the next few weeks feeling the loss of Legolas, even though they had known him only as Thalin at the time, and feeling the dread of the now more-serious nature of their quest set in. There were those among them that did not want them to succeed. Bickering arose again, with fingers being covertly pointed and groups forming with targets around them, but never quite coming to blows about it until several of the companions cornered Dorder on the High Pass through the Misty Mountains. "We know it was you who offed Thalin, we do." said Rathm. Elandera chimed in. "You're hiding a secret, and that worries us." Dorder stammered and protested, but when they glanced around looking for a weapon, they found that Rathm had vanished, and Findecano was coming upon them along with several other members of the group. They faded away, unwilling to test their accusations further, and silence reigned among the group until they reached the borders of Imladris. ———————————————————————————————— No one has died! Vote Count: Walin (2): Devotary of Spontaneity, Elandera Bort (2): Araris Valerian, Cadmium Compounder Alvron (1): GreenRover Araris (1): Snipexe Elandera (1): Dalinar Kholin Xinoehp512 (1): Alvron Night 2 has begun! It will last until 8PM Saturday July 21. Player List:

Alright, Red Team, your clue is Radiants (1). @Rhapsody @luckat @xinoehp512