The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Werewolf XXX - Tol-in-Elendili - The Isle of the Were-Faithfuls

Macalaure · 03-03-2007, 03:00 PM

Dark were the dreams in Númenor that night, and filled with sorrow and doubt. Despite their grand efforts, they had been unable to get hold of even one of the frightful Faithfuls. Visions of death and horror crept into the minds of the sleeping and they knew that, for one of them, it would become more than just a dream. Once more the Faithfuls roamed the paths of the island and gathered around one of the huts. One of them knocked at the door.

Inside, Rune, Son of Bjarne, awoke from his direful dreams to find himself in horrors much worse.

“Go away!” he shouted in fear “There are others still in other huts. Go for them first!”

“But it is none of the others that we want, at least not now. We want you!”

And with these words the door was broken and the Faithfuls entered his room.

“Then so be it. But please make it quick, at least!” Rune said in despair and he sighed, knowing that his time had come, but the Faithfuls merely laughed in quiet.

“Do you know the song which was once sung by the people of this land?” one asked him.

“What are you talking about? I told you to make it quick!” answered Rune, baffled.

“Let me sing to you first:

The father made the World for Elves and Mortals, and he gave it...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know it. I think I’ve heard that one not so long ago. Please spare me with it!”

“Would you please cease to interrupt me? I’ll make myself short:

But my heart resteth not here for ever, for here is ending, and there will be an end and the Fading, when all is counted, and all numbered at last, but yet it will not be enough, not enough.”

“So what is that supposed to mean?” asked Rune while growing impatient.

“Oh, you will not know. But those who are going to find you, they will.”

And when these words were said, one Faithful unsheathed his sword and pierced Rune’s heart with it in one fast strike.

*~*

A bright morning it was in Westernesse and the sun seemed to grace the survivors in joy. Hope sprouted anew and hearts were lifted... until the Númenoreans became aware that once again one of them was missing. With evil forebodings they went to the hut of Rune. The door was broken and a chamber of horrors waited for them inside.

There lay the dead body of Rune, Son of Bjarne – all over the room. In an amazing exhibition of pedantry, his body had been dismembered. His bones and teeth lay aligned at the foot of the bed, all muscles and veins neatly around it. His blood and other humours had been bottled and the intestines adorned the walls. On the bed, lain upon the spread skin, was his brain, eyes and stabbed heart.

Nobody spoke a word and it took a while for one of them to notice the writing upon the broken door:

~Where every fibre’s torn apart, and every bone and blood-drop counted~

*~*

The Dead:

Macalaure (mod) - brutally killed by Faithfuls in Night One
Garin (ordo) - decapitated with a scythe on Day One
Holbytlass (ordo) - committed suicide to revive Garin in Night Two
The Might (ordo) - committed suicide to help Holbytlass reviving Garin in Night Two
Roa_Aoife (Tar-Míriel / cobbler) - stabbed to death on Day Two
Rikae (High Priest of Annatar / seer) - killed and reformed into a ship by Faithfuls in Night Three
Glirdan (ordo) - another one who committed suicide to revive Garin
Brinniel (ordo) - executed on Day Three
Rune Son of Bjarne (ordo) - disassembled by the Faithfuls in Night Four

The Living:

Durelin
Gil-Galad
the guy who be short
Hookbill the Goomba
Kath
Kitanna
Lalaith
Legate of Amon Lanc
Mänwe
Mithalwen
Nogrod
The Saucepan Man
Thinlómien

03-03-2007, 03:00 PM	#422
Macalaure Fading Fëanorion Join Date: Mar 2006 Location: into the flood again Posts: 2,911	Dark were the dreams in Númenor that night, and filled with sorrow and doubt. Despite their grand efforts, they had been unable to get hold of even one of the frightful Faithfuls. Visions of death and horror crept into the minds of the sleeping and they knew that, for one of them, it would become more than just a dream. Once more the Faithfuls roamed the paths of the island and gathered around one of the huts. One of them knocked at the door. Inside, Rune, Son of Bjarne, awoke from his direful dreams to find himself in horrors much worse. “Go away!” he shouted in fear “There are others still in other huts. Go for them first!” “But it is none of the others that we want, at least not now. We want you!” And with these words the door was broken and the Faithfuls entered his room. “Then so be it. But please make it quick, at least!” Rune said in despair and he sighed, knowing that his time had come, but the Faithfuls merely laughed in quiet. “Do you know the song which was once sung by the people of this land?” one asked him. “What are you talking about? I told you to make it quick!” answered Rune, baffled. “Let me sing to you first: The father made the World for Elves and Mortals, and he gave it...” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know it. I think I’ve heard that one not so long ago. Please spare me with it!” “Would you please cease to interrupt me? I’ll make myself short: But my heart resteth not here for ever, for here is ending, and there will be an end and the Fading, when all is counted, and all numbered at last, but yet it will not be enough, not enough.” “So what is that supposed to mean?” asked Rune while growing impatient. “Oh, you will not know. But those who are going to find you, they will.” And when these words were said, one Faithful unsheathed his sword and pierced Rune’s heart with it in one fast strike. ~ A bright morning it was in Westernesse and the sun seemed to grace the survivors in joy. Hope sprouted anew and hearts were lifted... until the Númenoreans became aware that once again one of them was missing. With evil forebodings they went to the hut of Rune. The door was broken and a chamber of horrors waited for them inside. There lay the dead body of Rune, Son of Bjarne – all over the room. In an amazing exhibition of pedantry, his body had been dismembered. His bones and teeth lay aligned at the foot of the bed, all muscles and veins neatly around it. His blood and other humours had been bottled and the intestines adorned the walls. On the bed, lain upon the spread skin, was his brain, eyes and stabbed heart. Nobody spoke a word and it took a while for one of them to notice the writing upon the broken door: ~Where every fibre’s torn apart, and every bone and blood-drop counted~ ~ The Dead: Macalaure (mod) - brutally killed by Faithfuls in Night One Garin (ordo) - decapitated with a scythe on Day One Holbytlass (ordo) - committed suicide to revive Garin in Night Two The Might (ordo) - committed suicide to help Holbytlass reviving Garin in Night Two Roa_Aoife (Tar-Míriel / cobbler) - stabbed to death on Day Two Rikae (High Priest of Annatar / seer) - killed and reformed into a ship by Faithfuls in Night Three Glirdan (ordo) - another one who committed suicide to revive Garin Brinniel (ordo) - executed on Day Three Rune Son of Bjarne (ordo) - disassembled by the Faithfuls in Night Four The Living: Durelin Gil-Galad the guy who be short Hookbill the Goomba Kath Kitanna Lalaith Legate of Amon Lanc Mänwe Mithalwen Nogrod The Saucepan Man Thinlómien Last edited by Macalaure; 03-03-2007 at 03:38 PM.