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Pitchwife · 01-14-2012, 05:20 PM

The way this first Day of the Rangers’ trial began, Faramir’s stern words might as well have been spoken to the wind. Loslote seemed to think the nomenclature of fruit more important than finding the enemies hidden among them. Shasta showed off his strength by breaking a chain. Boromir chid Galadriel for her excessive use of emoticons*, then proceeded to recount his impressions of a story told in moving pictures (such as the Eldar are said to conjure up by their enchanting art) which he claimed to have seen and which purportedly told of the adventures of a crimson headdress. The cavern of Henneth Annûn seemed to have turned into a madhouse.

“What has happened to you?” barked grumpy old Nogrod, a veteran of many raids. “Have the evil servants made a spell and turned everyone into toddlers in a sandbox?” Disgusted by the indignity that had taken possession of the Rangers, he turned away and wasn’t heard again for a long time.

Thus called to order, the Rangers pulled themselves together, and the trial began in earnest. Boromir accused Aganzir of using a classic trick of Black Númenóreans, which led to some controversial discussion but no result.

“Galadriel seems jumpy,” observed Loslote. “It makes me think she has something to hide.”

“I haven’t,” said Galadriel, “and I’m not jumpy!”

“Yes you are,” said Aganzir, “and I said that first, by the way.” She took a spear and pricked Galadriel, who cried “Ouch!” and made a startled little jump.

“See?” said Pomegranate. “You’re jumpy!”

“Only because she pricked me!”

“Now you’re being overly defensive”, said Loslote. “A clear sign of guilt.” She picked up another spear and pricked Galadriel again.

“Stop doing that!” cried Galadriel. "It hurts!"

“She’s trying to stop us discussing her,” said Shasta. “I’d do that myself if I was a Black Númenórean.” He took up a third spear and joined the pricking.

“But none of this is very incriminating,” Rune objected. “What about Bom over there? He hasn’t done anything helpful all day.”

“Attacking me for lack of content?” said Bom. “That’s odd. Maybe you’re a spy yourself?”

Greenie agreed with Rune that Gal didn’t look like a servant of Sauron and said she wouldn’t mind executing Loslote instead. But when the hour of judgment came, the majority held Galadriel guilty.

“Pithwivion’s ghost demands blood!” exclaimed Shasta and drove the first spear into her, followed by Loslote a split second later.

“It won’t do you any good to lynch me,” protested Galadriel, blood bubbling on her lips from her pierced lungs, “as you’re likely to find out.” But she had hardly finished when Aganzir stabbed her with the third spear.

“I want to live!” cried Galadriel, her breath failing. “You want to live too!”

It was too late. Inziladun thrust the fourth and final spear into her heart, and she collapsed on the floor.

Holding their breath, the Rangers waited for the change that would reveal Galadriel’s true face. But nothing happened. Neither did they find any sign on her body when they examined the corpse. They searched her belongings, hoping for something else that would confirm her guilt, but only found a fine longsword of the best Dwarven steel which Galadriel had kept wrapped in a spare cloak.

"So that's what she was hiding!" somebody said. “Why didn’t she wear it on her? She might have used it to defend herself!”

“That blade was to protect you, not to hurt you,” said a ghostly voice that sounded like their dead comrade Pithwivion’s.

One after another, the Rangers’ faces turned pale as ashes as they realized they had slain their Night Guardian. Nobody would stand between them and Sauron’s assassins now.
______________________________________

*Quenya emóticon, correct plural emoticonti: technical term for a special class of tehtar used in some of the arcaner tengwar modes.

__________________________________________________ _____________

IT IS NOW NIGHT 2. Black Númenoreans, choose your kill. Faramir, choose your dream. Mablung and Damrod, you may talk. Everybody else, good night.

DEAD
Pitch (Mod) - pushed over the edge Night 1
Gal55 (Anborn) – pricked to death Day 1

ALIVE
Agan
Greenie
Bom
Boro
Glirdan
Inzil
Lottie
Nog
Nate
Rune
sally
Shasta

01-14-2012, 05:20 PM	#14
Pitchwife Wight of the Old Forest Join Date: Dec 2008 Location: Unattended on the railway station, in the litter at the dancehall Posts: 3,329	The way this first Day of the Rangers’ trial began, Faramir’s stern words might as well have been spoken to the wind. Loslote seemed to think the nomenclature of fruit more important than finding the enemies hidden among them. Shasta showed off his strength by breaking a chain. Boromir chid Galadriel for her excessive use of emoticons, then proceeded to recount his impressions of a story told in moving pictures (such as the Eldar are said to conjure up by their enchanting art) which he claimed to have seen and which purportedly told of the adventures of a crimson headdress. The cavern of Henneth Annûn seemed to have turned into a madhouse. “What has happened to you?” barked grumpy old Nogrod, a veteran of many raids. “Have the evil servants made a spell and turned everyone into toddlers in a sandbox?” Disgusted by the indignity that had taken possession of the Rangers, he turned away and wasn’t heard again for a long time. Thus called to order, the Rangers pulled themselves together, and the trial began in earnest. Boromir* accused Aganzir of using a classic trick of Black Númenóreans, which led to some controversial discussion but no result. “Galadriel seems jumpy,” observed Loslote. “It makes me think she has something to hide.” “I haven’t,” said Galadriel, “and I’m not jumpy!” “Yes you are,” said Aganzir, “and I said that first, by the way.” She took a spear and pricked Galadriel, who cried “Ouch!” and made a startled little jump. “See?” said Pomegranate. “You’re jumpy!” “Only because she pricked me!” “Now you’re being overly defensive”, said Loslote. “A clear sign of guilt.” She picked up another spear and pricked Galadriel again. “Stop doing that!” cried Galadriel. "It hurts!" “She’s trying to stop us discussing her,” said Shasta. “I’d do that myself if I was a Black Númenórean.” He took up a third spear and joined the pricking. “But none of this is very incriminating,” Rune objected. “What about Bom over there? He hasn’t done anything helpful all day.” “Attacking me for lack of content?” said Bom. “That’s odd. Maybe you’re a spy yourself?” Greenie agreed with Rune that Gal didn’t look like a servant of Sauron and said she wouldn’t mind executing Loslote instead. But when the hour of judgment came, the majority held Galadriel guilty. “Pithwivion’s ghost demands blood!” exclaimed Shasta and drove the first spear into her, followed by Loslote a split second later. “It won’t do you any good to lynch me,” protested Galadriel, blood bubbling on her lips from her pierced lungs, “as you’re likely to find out.” But she had hardly finished when Aganzir stabbed her with the third spear. “I want to live!” cried Galadriel, her breath failing. “You want to live too!” It was too late. Inziladun thrust the fourth and final spear into her heart, and she collapsed on the floor. Holding their breath, the Rangers waited for the change that would reveal Galadriel’s true face. But nothing happened. Neither did they find any sign on her body when they examined the corpse. They searched her belongings, hoping for something else that would confirm her guilt, but only found a fine longsword of the best Dwarven steel which Galadriel had kept wrapped in a spare cloak. "So that's what she was hiding!" somebody said. “Why didn’t she wear it on her? She might have used it to defend herself!” “That blade was to protect you, not to hurt you,” said a ghostly voice that sounded like their dead comrade Pithwivion’s. One after another, the Rangers’ faces turned pale as ashes as they realized they had slain their Night Guardian. Nobody would stand between them and Sauron’s assassins now. ______________________________________ Quenya emóticon, correct plural emoticonti: technical term for a special class of tehtar* used in some of the arcaner tengwar modes. __________________________________________________ _____________ IT IS NOW NIGHT 2. Black Númenoreans, choose your kill. Faramir, choose your dream. Mablung and Damrod, you may talk. Everybody else, good night. DEAD Pitch (Mod) - pushed over the edge Night 1 Gal55 (Anborn) – pricked to death Day 1 ALIVE Agan Greenie Bom Boro Glirdan Inzil Lottie Nog Nate Rune sally Shasta __________________ Und aus dem Erebos kamen viele seelen herauf der abgeschiedenen toten.- Homer, Odyssey, Canto XI Last edited by Pitchwife; 01-15-2012 at 01:26 PM.