Lord of the Rings OOC

[Ush]

Original page and interest check.

Please post here if you want to join.

Participants:

Ush
Norbal
PH Ben
Suspect 32
Prospero
Wit
Sisk
Doitean

In the year 209 F.A, a crack in the very fabric of our reality allowed creatures from the Void to pass through. Four entities passed in before the crack sealed itself. Three of them were Balrogs, the most feared of all of Morgoth's servants. The fourth was a creature the local people near the crack, those of the Old Ford, named 'Shade'. Together, the four destroyed nearly three hundred Men and Dwarves before disappearing into the night. Rumors of Orcs spread throughout the newly-conquered Misty Mountains, the new Dwarf settlers beginning to feel the danger of where they were living creep in...

To the south, in the realm of Mordor, the Gondorian Men at Henneth Annun reported a force of Orcs escaping through the hidden pass. The garrison at Cair Andros affirmed this and a force of fifty rode out to destroy them. They were never seen again, and a nearby woodsmen was driven mad by the screams he heard in the night.

The armies of the Dwarves arrived at Moria later that year. Durin VII, High-King of all Dwarves, besieged the Orcs living there. Now, he waits for a hidden route inside to be found. He has declared that all other matters fall second to taking back Khazad-Dum...

Shade and his Balrogs fled north to Angmar, outside of the prying gazes of the Free Peoples. It was here that the Orcs of Mordor went, bearing nine great gifts to him... Eight rings, and the very eldest of all their race. One of the first Orcs... So old he could remember the fall of Belerieland... And the binding of Morgoth. And from him Shade learned all of what had transpired, and why the rings were of such great importance...

In the August months of the year, eight men entered Minas Tirith. Eight men dressed in black robes. They strode to the Citadel, entered the Vaults of the city. Here, King Eldarion and his guard ordered them to leave. Prince Ilidiul watched as the Eight drew swords and slaughtered his father's guard, before they tossed Eldarion upon the tomb of his father and stabbed him to death. They then entered the Vault and took three items. The ring of the Witch King, his helm, and the Palantir that rested there, unused since the days of Denethor II. Ilidiul watched them flee with unnatural speed, and he knew what they were. When the message from Cirdan, lord of Mithlond, reached him, the fourteen year old prince sent his emissaries. As has every king in Middle Earth. For Cirdan knows what has come to this world, he truly knows. And while he requested armies, the messengers fell on their journeys to the hands of the Eight or the Orcs. The message was only passed on to one, and he only heard a part of it. 'Go to Mithlond', that was all that escaped.

And so the emissaries and messengers now go to Mithlond, where Cirdan the Shipwright's fears grow by the day. For he believes that Melkor has returned to this world. If that is true... Then hope may well be lost.

Character Sheet: 'Default' site template.

NAME: What is your characters name? Remember, be original and don't use canon names such as 'Elrond'.
FACTION: What faction does your character belong to?
RANK: What rank does your character hold in his/her faction?
SPECIES: What species is your character?
AGE: How old is your character?
GENDER: Is your character a male, female, trans-gendered, etc.?
HEIGHT: How tall is your character?
WEIGHT: How much does your character weight (remember to make it proportional to his/her height)?
EYES: What color eyes does your character have?
HAIR: What color hair does your character have?
SKIN: What is your character's skin color?
WEALTH: How much wealth does your character have?
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Does your character have any distinguishing marks such as scars, birth marks, etc.?

STRENGTH: Describe the strength of your character.
DEXTERITY: Describe whether or not your character is nimble or agile.
CONSTITUTION: Describe the health of your character.
INTELLIGENCE: Describe the intelligence of your character.
WISDOM: Describe the wisdom of your character.
CHARISMA: Describe your characters ability to charm or influence others.

SKILLS:
Describe the skills that your character possesses.

STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Describe in moderate detail the strengths and weaknesses of your character.

GEAR:
Describe the items that your characters carries with them.

PERSONALITY:
In one to two paragraphs (six sentences each), describe your characters personality. Be sure to update this section as the role-play continues. This section requires a minimum of 50 words upon the posting of the profile, even if the profile is a work in progress.

BIOGRAPHY:
In two to three paragraphs (six sentences each), describe your characters backstory up to the point you started RPing him/her. Be sure to update this section as the role-play continues. This section requires a minimum of 50 words upon the posting of the profile, even if the profile is a work in progress.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

You forgot me.

 

[Dóiteán]

What am I chop liver?

 

[Ush]

It was a list I did hours ago. Shh.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

It was a list I did hours ago. Shh.

And you didn't go back and edit it perfectly? Jerk.

 

[Nor'baal]

NAME: Thain Elbro Took II

FACTION: Tookland, The Tooks, The Hobbits, The Kingdom of Arnor

RANK: Thain

SPECIES: Hobbit

AGE: Sixty-Five

GENDER: Male

HEIGHT: 2 Feet 6 inches

WEIGHT: The Average Weight of a Hobbit

EYES: Brown

HAIR: Brown

SKIN: White

WEALTH: For a Hobbit, he is considered quite wealthy, primarily through extensive familial farm lands, and of course from the rents from the familial estates.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: None whatsoever.



STRENGTH: Reasonably strong for a Hobbit, however he is not a warrior in the conventional sense. Having been a former Bounder, and now the head of the Shires Boarder watch, he is capable of defending himself from animals, but has never fought against a trained warrior, as being a Hobbit, he has never had to.

DEXTERITY: Highly nimble, and incredibly stealthy. A natural trait of all Hobbits, he walks with almost complete silence. As far as agility goes, he is not agile really, primarily due to his lack of combat experience.

CONSTITUTION: He is healthy, but only in so far as he eats well.

INTELLIGENCE: Highly intelligent in matters that concern Hobbits, and are related to his position. He knows of trade, farming and local politics, and by extension, the Kingdom of Arnor. The extensive library of the Great Smials allows him to have good and easy reference to a great many topics, and he has read nearly all the books inside it over his life.

WISDOM: Not massively, he just has a lot of experience in Hobbit ways of life.

CHARISMA: Being a Hobbit, few perceive him as a danger, primarily due to the fact he is not a danger! As such, he is often seen as a good source of un-bias advice, and as such often can be quite charismatic, due to the fact his ability to win people over with words often must prioritise in situations, as violence often ends badly for him.


SKILLS:
Farming,
Hunting,
Cooking,
Woodwork.

STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Hobbit Stealth: The Natural Stealth of a Hobbit.
Hobbit Resilience: Resistant to Corruption and Poisons.
Courage: As has been found with numerous former Hobbits, he has surprising Courage.

A Farmer not a Fighter: Not practised in combat.
Innocence of the World: Having only left the shire to attend the King of Arnors council, he knows little of any other place bar what he can read.
To Friendly: He is nice and polite to all, but often is shocked to find the same is not true with all people!

GEAR:
A set of cooking tools,
A set of clothes,
A walking stick,
A Pipe,
A pouch of Longbottom leaf.

PERSONALITY:
Thain Elbro Took II is a picture of having grown up and grown stuffy. A quiet, respectable hobbit, Thain Elbro Took II is well suited to be the social leader he is. Common Sense and propriety merged with priority rules his life and every action. He is punctual to the extent of fashionably late in perfect amount and the time he will be on his porch for a morning or evening smoke is well known as if should be. While in his heart beats the fierce heart of a warrior able to take on Orc and Dragon, Thain Elbro Took II has convinced himself otherwise and willingly allowed his greatest battle to be a good natured haggle over pipe-weed, telling himself he'd die of fright if he ever set hairy foot outside the Shire, even if the Took part of him keeps trying to insist otherwise. He has learned to keep it silent these days, though.

BIOGRAPHY:
Born into the ancient Hobbit family the Tooks, Thain Elbro Took II was raised in a good respectable way that all Hobbits should be. He learned to farm, and worked with his father on the family lands, tending to the earth, as well as ensuring that the tenants kept up their rent. When he was old enough, he volunteered to join the Bounders, so as to attempt to state that inner Adelard Took that beats within the heart of all members of his family.

For several years he worked 'beating the bounds' of his homeland, rescuing stray animals, and beating back wolves and other such beasts from the peaceful lands of the Shire. He earned a great reputation, being one of the few Bounders to never turn up drunk to a patrol.

However, tragedy soon struck the Tooks, when Thain Elbro Took II's father passed away, leaving the Bounder in charge of the entire estate, and furthermore, in charge of the ancient title of Thain. Soon he found himself having to put aside his Bounder life, and work (in-between regular meals) dealing with the Kingdom of Arnor, overseeing all the Bounders, as well as the Tooks extensive farms.

It was then, a mere five years after he became Thain, that the Took heard the news, that the King of Gondor, the Son of Aragorn, had passed away.

 

[Livgardist]

NAME: Agrippa Serapio

FACTION: None whatsoever

RANK: Adventurer

SPECIES: Human

AGE: Difficult to tell from appearance, but in fact around 35.

GENDER: Male

HEIGHT: 178

WEIGHT: 75 kg

EYES: Green

HAIR: Long and light-brown, sometimes worn in a ponytail if it hasn't been cut in a while.

SKIN: White

WEALTH: While he can easily get his hands on money by working as a swordsman or fighter for hire or anything to that effect, Agrippa likes to keep money coming and going, due to his antimaterialistic lifestyle, and as such, he rarely has very much money saved away. As he is all about experience in life, rather than material wealth, he also has little saved away. What money he has usually comes from hunting for treasure in old tombs or dungeons.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: A scar that he hides well with a white piece of cloth wrapped around his neck, the scar going from between his pecks and up to his larynx, barely visible over the edge of his collar when not wearing his scarf. Also burnt tissue on the right side of his chest down the side of his torso and in part leg, a memento of a battle with a dragon that he once survived.

STRENGTH: While his laidback nature and life as a would-be vagabond and occasional drunk would not reveal it, Agrippa is a veteran adventurer, and as such required to stay in shape to survive his own profession. He is a very strong man, with tough, wiry muscles rather than big ones. His slender, almost lanky build, shows no indication that he would be stronger than the ordinary man, but a life on the road is not an easy one and builds strength as well as character.

DEXTERITY: A life on the roads and in the forests requires agility as well as strength, as does fighting. While Agrippa rarely fights, he makes sure to stay in shape, and that includes stretching to make sure he does not lose his agility. He is quick on his feet which helps him greatly when it comes to hunting and otherwise moving through woodlands. It also helps him traverse the dungeons and tombs that he often scavenge for treasures.

CONSTITUTION: Agrippa is as healthy as they come, one of those people who seem to be either too stupid or too tough to get sick. The most he's ever suffered from is a hangover, though it should also be noted that there have been occasions when he has chosen to starve rather than take a job that involved shady employers, and while never seriously so, it has affected him, giving him a rather skinny appearance.

INTELLIGENCE: Agrippa is no idiot. Though no wizard or scholar of great knowledge, he knows enough to make educated decisions on suitable courses of action. He's quick-thinking and used to rely on his wit, but in the end he is still born a mercenary, and he lacks much in a traditional education. What he knows is what he has learnt by himself over the years. He does however have a lot of knowledge on subjects that relate to treasure and the acquisition of it.

WISDOM: Agrippa isn't a very wise man at first sight. He does not know about magic or mythology or history or ringwraiths or Sauron, or such world-encompassing matters of importance. But if you dig deep enough, there are golden nuggest in his mind of precious lessons in the school of life waiting to be shared. He is a man who lives his life on a day-to-day basis, with a Devil-may-care attitude, and while it seems not to, there is in truth some wisdom in this as well.

CHARISMA: Agrippa has spent many years on the road, and made many good friends, because of his laidback and friendly personality, his careless attitude, his complete lack of fear, and his inability to admit defeat even in its face. He possesses qualities of character that make him an attractive friend of many, and a loyal friend he is at that. He lives his life in the search for excitement and adventure, and he attracts people like himself more than anything.

SKILLS: Archery, swordsmanship, quarterstaff fighting, fisticuffs, survival knowledge, dancing, (drunken) singing, playing the mandoline, the flute or the harmonica, and a wide array of other skills that he has learnt over the course of his life or developed out of necessity to stay alive on the road.

STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
+ A loyal friend
+ A skilled fighter
+ Courageous
+ Charming
+ Disarming appearance
+ Sexy Harad accent

- Lazy
- Laidback as he is, he tends not to worry about things that he really should be worrying about.
- Tends to drink too much on occasion, especially after a long time on the road.
- Has a problem with authority, as it goes against his free lifestyle
- Doesn't know when to back down, or to pick his battles.

GEAR:
Bindle, containing food and some other trinkets, carried tied on a quarterstaff.
Above-mentioned quarterstaff
A longbow and quiver
A curved, lightweight sword made in Harad.

PERSONALITY:
A seasoned adventurer, Agrippa leads a lifestyle void of the materialistic. Aside from a few tools and weapons, he has little possessions of value to him, rather keeping the memory of an object than the object itself. He is an easy-going, light-hearted individual with a devil may care-attitude, who likes to laugh and have fun, enjoy the road, and see new sights and countries. But more than anything, he likes adventure and chasing treasure. He lives for adventure, and is not one to ever call a one place home unless it's the road itsef. When pushed, he pushes back. When threatened, he does not back down.

However, despite his seemingly careless lifestyle, he is a loyal friend, who would not hesitate to take up arms to defend a comrade in need. He is also a passionate human being who can never resist to offer a helping hand to someone less fortunate. Because of his past, he frowns on the use of needless violence, and on people who would kill others too easily or without thought, regardless of the race, but on the other hand, he also has no problem killing those he deems deserving of it.

BIOGRAPHY:

Agrippa Serapio wasn't always the laidback adventurer he is today. He was born the son of the leader of a mercenary band in Harad. As such he spent the better part of his life preparing for, and subsequently fighting on various battlefields in exchange for coin. During this time, he saw endless amounts of suffering and death. He fought more wars than he could care to count, but never for anything other than coin. Never one for killing people over beliefs, something he always considered a dangerous thing - to wage a war based on your personal beliefs - he was a professional sellsword.

In time, however, Agrippa grew more and more restless, tired of Harad, and tired of the life as a mercenary. He began to suffer nightmares, and fits of guilt overtook him, guilt over the countless people he had slain. It became clear to him that his path lay elsewhere. And so he parted ways with his Harad brothers in arms, and the mercenary band that his father had built up. His father never approved of it, but he did offer understanding, and the two parted ways amicably. And Agrippa left Harad behind to travel Middle-Earth as an adventurer.

Now he lives in the regions around Bree, a mysterious wanderer of some fame to have been seen around the village, where he often stops by to resupply, to share news heard on the road, or just to enjoy a few pints with other travelers, or unload the latest treasures he has found, in exchange for coin. Many times his travels have taken him farther away to distant lands, however. He has also, on a few occasions, taken to visiting the quaint villages of the Shire, where he's made good friends. He still work as a mercenary on occasion - but very, very rarely, and never speaks of it. To anyone who asks, he is a vagabond. To anyone who knows, he is an adventurer.

 

[Alhon]

Annast
Servant of Morgoth​

Annast. A name, but a name long forgotten. Once a king amongst the men of Numenor, now he walks once again with the Nine, his crippled spirit pressed into service by a new dark master. With the Witch King proving harder to resurrect than his brethren however, Annast holds greater sway among the Nazgul than he did under Sauron, serving as one of Morgoth’s chief lieutenants. * * * ​ He is of height with the tallest amongst Men, but his insubstantial form weighs almost nothing beneath his robes and armour. A twisted spirit clinging unnaturally to the physical world, Annast’s strength is more than sufficient to wield a blade, but far from exceptional. He can move with unnatural grace however, free from the restrictions of a physical body, and there are few weapons that can deal him lasting harm. What dangers he does face are magnified however, with fire and wizardry chief amongst his weaknesses. A tyrannical ruler and powerful sorcerer in his time, Annast does not lack for wit and cunning, but Morgoth’s influence infests his soul, heavily directing his focus. Driven by such an ancient and implacable will, he is often unable to employ caution in his master’s service. An unholy and foreboding presence in possession of all of a Nazgul’s powers, Annast has a natural ability to strike fear into his enemy’s heart and undermine the will of lesser beings. He has been apart from the mortal realm for many centuries however and finds it increasingly difficult to communicate with its inhabitants. * * * ​ Though a considerable swordsman, Annast’s true strength lies in his mastery of dark sorcery and he is more inclined to rely on this twisted magic than solid steel in a pitched battle. Fearless and unflinching as only a Nazgul can be, he is a capable commander of troops. He carries a longsword and a dagger, the second of which is a morgul blade imbued with sinister spells of poisoning and fatality. Uniquely, he has been known to carry a staff of back ebony that seems in some way connected to his penchant for sorcery. * * * ​ Annast’s mind is a product of his near unique nature. Once a king of Numenor, he was prideful and ambitious, hungry for power but deliberate in his path to achieving it. He was charismatic, manipulative and supremely self-confident, adept at assuring himself his own vision of the future was truly the best for all. All these things he remains, but the ages have further shaped his damaged psyche. His fall for Sauron’s deception initially shattered his previously unshakeable self-belief and he spent many centuries in blind service, furious at his own failings but sharp enough to recognise he was bound firmly to their consequences. More recently he has begun to marshal his thoughts, his ambition reasserting itself, prompting him to seek what advancement he can within Morgoth’s warm embrace. Returning from the dead gives one a certain confidence and Annast’s new fortunes, backed by his mastery of sorcery, make him a cunning but arrogant adversary.​

 

[Livgardist]

Gah! Scary!

 

[Alhon]

Gah! Scary!

Thanks. Looking forward to chasing down you would be heroes. Can't have you ruining the masters plans :)

 

[Ben]

How does he stand against the Light of the Eldar? ;P

 

[Livgardist]

My man will beat him over the head with his bindle. :CIsee

 

[Alhon]

*Witch King voice* Do not strike a Nazgul with a bindle....

 

[Ush]

That's a Nazgul, now. Very well done.

 

[Green Ranger]

Thangûron Half-Blooded
​

There are few now who live who remember the Elder days. As the Eldar continue to wane in Middle-Earth, so to does the memory of times of old, when Earendil set to the West in desperation, and Vingilot bore him to the Undying Lands to plead for the Valar to aid Middle Earth and end the tyranny of the great foe, Morgoth. Rarely now are the songs sung of the War of Wrath, of the high helms of the Vanyar and the great host that marched across the lands, scattering the dread hosts of the Dark Lord before them. Few tell tales of the fall of the mighty Ancalagon the Black, whose death throes sundered the great fortress of Thangorodrim with his fall. And few remember the Vanyar. The first people of the Eldar, forever loyal to the Valar, mighty and fierce as Elvenkind ever was, golden haired and mighty beyond the reckoning of anything that has come since to these troubled lands. Though they were no doubt enamoured of Middle Earth, none remained following the war. But for some rare few, a bond was kindled with the Noldor that remained. So was Thangûron the Half-Blooded born. ​ Born to a Vanyarin Father and Noldorin mother, Thangûron took more strongly after his mother, and was dark haired and grey eyed like the Noldor, but fiercer in spirit, with a voice clear and wonderous like few before him, even among Elvenkind, and his voice filled the Grey Havens of Mithlond with song for many years. Alas, his mother's spirit waned quickly as she longed for the Undying Lands and to return to the man she loved across the sea. In time, she took to the West, leaving an adolescent Thangûron alone to forge his own path in the world. In time, Thangûron would travel to Eregion, though the call of the sea would forever darken his spirit, and he sang less ever after, for his heart grew heavy with longing for the West. In time, he came to study at least in part some of the great arts of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, where he learned much of the ancient Elven arts of enchanting and spellweaving. Alas, his finesse and craftsmanship was poor compared to the likes of Celebrimbor, and by the time Sauron (Then disguised as Annatar, the Lord of Gifts) came, Thangûron spent much of his time crafting magical blades, rather then the fine rings and jewelry Ost-in-Edhil was famous for. Perhaps it was for this reason that Thangûron survived the fall of Eregion. With the betrayal of Sauron and the forging of the One Ring, Eregion was assaulted by the dark forces of Mordor, who tried to seize the Three Elven Rings of Power. As Eregion fell, Elrond and a scant few survivors, Thangûron included, fled north to establish the hidden refuge of Rivendell. Thangûron would eventually go on to represent Elvenkind in the Last Alliance between Men and Elves. Though he had never served in a military capacity before, he was familiar with the weapons and fought valiantly. For the first time, Thangûron saw both the strength and weakness of Man, and he found himself both pitying and envying them for their brief lives, noting how they accomplished so much in the little time given to them. Throughout the Third Age, Thangûron found himself wandering the vast expanse of Middle Earth, trying to sate his longing for the sea with an endless wanderlust. Rarely satisfied to stay in one place for any long period of time, Thangûron learnt much of the land and the people of Middle Earth in his long travels - far more then he had learnt in the entire previous age - and became a skilled warrior in his time. Eventually, following the War of the Ring and the passing of many Noldor to the West, Thangûron would return once more to Rivendell, which now lay quiet, under the rule of Celeborn and the brothers Elladan and Elrohir. ******* ​ Strong in spirit, Thangûron's dour demeanor betrays the great longing he has to pass into the West. However, he possesses a great love for the land, and remains as of yet unwilling to pass to the Undying Lands, despite the vast majority of his kind already having done so. Proficient with both the bow and the blade, Thangûron's true skill lies in crafting and enchanting - a dying art in the lands of Middle Earth. Like many of his kind, he is slow to act and loathe to decide on a course of action - as the saying goes, 'Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'

 

[Dóiteán]

What's the status of the Southrons, Corsairs, Haradrim, and Easterling? Are they on Morgoth's side?

And found info on the blues.

During the Third Age, Rhûn was visited by three Wizards; Saruman,Alatar and Pallando,and though Saruman returned into the west, the two Blue Wizards remained. Sauron himself journeyed into the eastward lands, in hiding from the White Council during the centuries known in the west as the Watchful Peace.

Blue wizards:
http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Alatar
http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Pallando

 

[Wit]

Húrin Peredhel

Húrin, born in Fornost in the last years of the Angmar War, was the first and only son born to the Ñoldorin lord Dúrandir and his wife Gladhwen. With Rivendell besieged by the forces of the Witch-king of Angmar, Gladhwen, though heavy with child, was unable to return to her people. Húrin was but a few weeks old when the gates of Fornost fell. Gladhwen was able to flee the city with her child along with the thousands of refugees fleeing the city, but Dúrandir fell as the remnant's of Arthedain's Army held off Angmar's for long enough to allow the refugees to get away. But there was more misfortune to come as Gladhwen was struck by a poisoned arrow as they fled, and already weakened from childbirth, soon passed away. Húrin was then taken in by the Dúnedain of the North and raised as their own, given the name Húrin Ellon, the Elf-man. He grew up among the Dúnedain, learning from the Rangers, fighting with them, sharing in their joys and sorrows as one of their own. Though he often felt the pull of his own people, the felt for the Dúnedain kept him with them. It was finally with the defeat of the Witch-king that he made his way to Rivendell. He spent years there, learning from them, but the pull of his human family was ever present and he eventually returned to the Dúnedain. After that he lived much in this manner, spending his years among the Rangers of the North, wandering the remains of the Northern kingdom or the far reaches of Middle-Earth before returning to Rivendell to spend months or even years among his people. By then the elves of Lorien and Rivendell had started calling him Húrin Peredhel, the Half-Elf, a name that has stuck with him to this day. With the defeat of Souron in the War of the Ring, and the return of the Elves to the Elder Lands, Húrin chose to stay on in Middle-Earth, loath to leave behind the only home he had ever known and the humans he had grown to love over the centuries. Recently, rumors of dark events in the North have reached his ears, as well as grim news from the South, news that has made him turn his feet back towards the Grey Havens, the greatest remaining Elvish settlement in Middle-Earth. ——————∗——————∗—————— Húrin is one of the most skilled archers and huntsmen left in Middle-Earth, possessing almost unmatched skills in woodcraft and considerable might with the blade as well. He posses the sharp eyes and piercing vision of the Elves and can perceive things hidden from most mortals. He also possesses great skill in the art of healing, having learned from Elrond himself over the course of his numerous visits to Rivendell. He is also capable of performing certain enchantments which allow him to control the elements of water and fire to a limited degree.

 

[Alhon]

Love the way this is shaping up. Two very well written elves there guys :)

Any Dwarves on the way?

 

[Livgardist]

And when do we start? I want to get this partay started! :CSly

 

[BLADE]

Spoiler: INTRO

Dr. Prospero, Lawyer/Internet Asshole, searching for a way to tap into the hidden strengths that all humans have. Then an accidental overdose of gamma radiation interacts with his unique body chemistry. And now, when Prospero grows angry or outraged, a startling metamorphosis occurs...

Rillak

"Kharnish (Orocarni) will be our mother. We no longer have a Dark Lord. Nor do we need one. We are not some stinkin' kneelers. Let man have his world of bright streams and open grass. We shall have the black earth under the mountain. And we shall toil alone and in the deep."

Born in the penultimate century of the Third Age, even Rillak's own people know little of her save that she traveled wide and far through Arda, even past the lands of Harad where the shadows grow long and the people grow mad. She served, for a time, in the armies of the Necromancer at Dol Goldur, though she left his service some time before the Battle of the Five Armies.

But why? No one knows except in her own telling that "the air grew close to me and whispered a great truth." And that truth was that the things in the deep and in the woods, the things foul and things beautiful beyond all measure must bend before the age of men. She will not sacrifice her own people, but sees instead a living of secrecy for them. Deep under the Arakhid Peak in deep Orocarni, a few score thousand orcs, goblins, wargs, trolls, and other "foul" creatures have employed in a way that men would say is odd for them.

And yet persevered they have. Peacefully and with little intercourse with men, they mine and till the dark loam of the mountain, living in the manner of the hated dwarf. Rillak has no great love for men, but no great hatred either.

"Every living thing carves out his portion of flesh. Let man have his."

And so she has spurned the call of the newest Evil to bedevil Arda. Peace yields better fruit and her people shall know no war so long as she is leader of their tribe.

Yet old hatreds do not die easily and even the youngest generation in which Rillak has pinned her hopes of teaching that living outside the purview (and at times in concert with man) has not slightest taste for the red blood of the Second Children of Illuvatar.

Shameen

"I do not begrudge Men or Pointy-Ears or even Dwarves --whom I have drunk with boys!-- *Cheers* their holdfasts and stonehouses or even their dainty little treeclubs. But I should not have it said that we would cringe in the darkness. Mother Rillak has lead us well. Yet it is up to us to win in our time a greater share of land at knife-point, at fang-point. Blood and teeth shall christen our new weregilds. And Man shall learn to respect us."

Shameen is the daughter of Rillak. Born after the last great defeat of Orcish-kind by men, she does not have the experience to realize her folly. Or at least that is what Rillak would say. Shameen would not shame her mother by contradicting her in public for the tribalism of Orcs makes that both shameful (and one must honor ones kranklob) and dangerous for even within their own tribe, some impulses do not so easily fade.

Yet conflict has come again. A few of their people (perhaps a gross or so) left to serve the newest pretender at Dark Lord. In this, Shameen and her mother agree to scoff. There is naught for an orc to do but blacken the soil with his blood for some faraway lord in wars like these. But those who left were fell warriors and elders and their departure could not but impress the largely farmer and ex-snagrim caste that make up Rillak's flock.

And even worse, Shameen's own brother known simply as The Mantle among his people, for the canvas and burlap overtunic and robes that he wears has become a strong voice within Kharnish advocating for war, "Man has much to pay for and sins can only be expiated with the coinage of blood." He is more his mother's son than Shameen in some ways. Tall and thin with a reedy and yet hypnotic voice he has learned both the sagelore and magicks of Rillak and has less compunctions in disagreeing with his kranklob in public than his sister. Faith tests us all.

Shameen disagrees. Her mother raised on both the lore of her own people and those of the Easterlings and Rhunish, Khandaq, and Harad. And yes. Westrons too. She knows of Elendil and Isildur the Tall. Can sing the tale of beautifully-doomed Beren and Luthien. She respects the Westrons and the Eldar. Even loves them after a fashion as much as she loves her own people, so ill-starred and mistreated by the wills and dooms of stronger lords and sorcerers.

The greatest warrior among her people, suckled in martial ardor and honor, trained to read as well as marshall bow and lance and sword (and knife too) she travels Westward in secret hoping to observe what the orcs who have joined the Shade, as well as the Men of the West (and East and Center, North and South besides) do. For she feels in her heart of hearts that their dooms are now joined.

Haladhrin

"Don't poke at the nerve, Habi. It is best not to expose certain things to the rotten air."

It is strange sometimes, the doom of men and their classes. Hal, as his few friends call him was born into one of the great merchant-prince families of Irrakesh, one of the great cities (and few of those at that) of the Harad Empire. His father made his fortune in one of the most respectable ways in Old Harad: slavery.

Slavery in Harad was not so hard as in other countries and certainly not the esnaghrim of old Moldor and the Dark Reaches of Est-Rhun. Yet such a powerful impression did it make in the young Hal that he turned towards the learning of poultices and salves and other such cures in one of the old universities in Irrakesh, much to his father's displeasure.

He has done yet more by taking a commission as a medic in the Harad Army. This army journeys north at its own behest and intends to bargain and haggle like a corps of codmongers with the newest would-be Dark Lord. The great Harad Empire makes its own destiny now.

Or so they say. Hal himself is skeptical and a hater of the sword and anvil aside. He has only come to heal for he believes that statecraft folly shall yet let more blood.

Eledriel

"First Sword of Gondor and Arnor. Spymaster of the Southern Marches. And first to have his coppers gone in service of King and Country. Long Live Eldarion. Long Live the Shapely Wenches of the East. And long live--

[Vomits]

A shade over two score years old, Eledriel is a man as all he should be: tall, broad, fair, learned and deadly with sword. Not for naught was he the most celebrated first word of Gondor in ages, reckoned even to be a match for some of the great heroes of the Third, Second and First Ages beside. Yet it is a cakéd filigree of witless court poets.

"I'm a murderer. An adulterer (and never married too) and good at my job. Except the one I took when I grew tired of the last one. Merchant I am not."

And crimes. Great crimes too. Or are they silly court crimes? It hardly matters. Duly condemned by a noble court of his peers (for he is noble, you may well know), Eledriel has taken the harder sentence than death: one final mission for the King's Court in these Darkest times.

"Eru I need a drink."

Spoiler: The Lonely Man

...

So he must let the world go on thinking that Prospero is dead, until he can find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him.