Prisoner of Númenor Planning/Discussion Thread - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Himaran · 10-22-2005, 10:18 PM

Ok - Abarzadan's story is taking shape. This long overdue post explains how he escapes the cell block.

Pio: Could you please place this post underneath Post #90 in the game thread? Thanks!

- Himaran

POST PLACED ~*~ PIO
_________________________________________________

Himaran's post

Bodies.

Abârzadan dashed down the slick hallway, stumbling over unseen cracks in the cold stone. Every passing second brought him closer to where he had left the group, and the sight that was slowly becoming clearer was grim. The man was breathless when he arrived at the scene, but he immediately began to root through the corpses.

Just guards. He started to breath easier.

Then where had the others gone? He had been left them a mere minute before, in hopes of diverting a two-pronged attack that would surely have ended in their slaughter. Either Azarmanô and the rest had been captured, or they had left him. Neither possibility gave him much hope of being reunited with them. His legs, exhausted, failed him, and he slumped down against the dripping prison wall. Doubts began to flood his mind, accompanied by a revulsion for the carnage around him. What was he, a wealthy young man, doing here, abandoned in a dark cell by outcasts who he had been foolish enough to trust. Smacking his fist down on the solid floor, Abârzadan cursed the day that he had stooped low enough to visit that poor tavern. How different the last few days would have been had he instead attended a more fitting diner, or even stayed home and cooked for himself! The man chuckled out loud at the absurdity of the whole affair. He hadn't even known Abârpânarú.

A noise.

Heavy boots clattered down the corrider. Torches flared. Voices shouted. reinforcements had arrived, and they would not be pleased to find a surviving perpetrator resting amongst their dead companions. So Abârzadan took a chance. Grimacing, he dipped his hand into the pool of blood that had formed underneath the severed neck of a guard, splashed the sticky liquid on his face, and lay still. The conversation he soon heard was disorganized and heated.

"What happened?"

"How should I know! I watch the adjacent hall, not this one."

"They're... all dead."

"No! And here I thought they were still standing ready for inspection."

"Cut it! Multiple prisoners have escaped. I want a complete lockdown of this floor - no one enters or leaves. Târak, take these bodies and dump them in the sewer, and I mean deep."

Târak went to work, and the others hurried off to fulfill their tasks. Bells started to ring from all directions. Heavy doors were slammed shut. Men grabbed extra weapons from supply posts and sprinted to their stations.

Unlike these guards, Târak seemed to be in no particular hurry. Lacking a cart, his chosen method of moving bodies was to sling one over his shoulder and hold a torch in his free hand. While quite inefficient, it gave Abârzadan a means by which to leave unnoticed. With all the men patrolling the block, it would be next to impossible to sneak by them all. He didn't even know the way out. Thus, he waited patiently, and when it was his turn he stayed as limp as a dead eel. Târak carried him for several minutes before unceremoniously dumping the living "corpse" in a dank tunnel, one filled in nearly a foot of water. Abârzadan kept his head under until he was sure that the guard was gone, whereupon he stood, gasping for breath. He couldn't see a thing, and had no means to make light. Then again, Târak hadn't finished yet...

* * * * *

Torch in hand, Abârzadan left Târak's unconcious form where it fell. The fire glared off the walls as he sloshed down the tunnel, attempting to keep the embers dry. Was the water rising? It was now above his knees. Turning a corner, the man's heart leaped as an incline appeared. The flooded passage was left behind, the torch was dropped, and a triumphant Numenorean pushed open a rusted grate, climbing up into the city of Armenelos.

littlemanpoet · 10-24-2005, 09:21 PM

I finally got to do the post I've been meaning to for a long, long time. Okay, everybody, figure out your Sindarin names. Thoronmir, you're all set already, eh?

Feanor, you don't have to stick with Lothlomë, it's just what I was able to put together in a real hurry from the glossary in the back of the Sil. It's getting later and later and so I'm going to have to let you guys do your own work on this one.

Feanor, Kath's fate is in your hands. Let me know if I stray from your purpose on it. I'm really happy to see this thread moving at a good pace right now, and there's some really good writing.

By the way, Feanor, I edited my second to last post to account for the little bit of exchange that you wrote in yours just following.

Okay, now that I've just posted, I guess the next one falls to either Feanor, Thoronmir, or Regin (who still needs to fill in his last save); and of course, Himaran can post up any time he wants. It's a fascinating story you've got going there, Himmy. I like it. It'll be interesting to see how that goes. Good stuff, all!

10-22-2005, 10:18 PM	#1
Himaran Ash of Orodruin Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Thangorodrim Posts: 777	Ok - Abarzadan's story is taking shape. This long overdue post explains how he escapes the cell block. Pio: Could you please place this post underneath Post #90 in the game thread? Thanks! - Himaran *POST PLACED ~~ PIO _________________________________________________ Himaran's post** Bodies. Abârzadan dashed down the slick hallway, stumbling over unseen cracks in the cold stone. Every passing second brought him closer to where he had left the group, and the sight that was slowly becoming clearer was grim. The man was breathless when he arrived at the scene, but he immediately began to root through the corpses. Just guards. He started to breath easier. Then where had the others gone? He had been left them a mere minute before, in hopes of diverting a two-pronged attack that would surely have ended in their slaughter. Either Azarmanô and the rest had been captured, or they had left him. Neither possibility gave him much hope of being reunited with them. His legs, exhausted, failed him, and he slumped down against the dripping prison wall. Doubts began to flood his mind, accompanied by a revulsion for the carnage around him. What was he, a wealthy young man, doing here, abandoned in a dark cell by outcasts who he had been foolish enough to trust. Smacking his fist down on the solid floor, Abârzadan cursed the day that he had stooped low enough to visit that poor tavern. How different the last few days would have been had he instead attended a more fitting diner, or even stayed home and cooked for himself! The man chuckled out loud at the absurdity of the whole affair. He hadn't even known Abârpânarú. A noise. Heavy boots clattered down the corrider. Torches flared. Voices shouted. reinforcements had arrived, and they would not be pleased to find a surviving perpetrator resting amongst their dead companions. So Abârzadan took a chance. Grimacing, he dipped his hand into the pool of blood that had formed underneath the severed neck of a guard, splashed the sticky liquid on his face, and lay still. The conversation he soon heard was disorganized and heated. "What happened?" "How should I know! I watch the adjacent hall, not this one." "They're... all dead." "No! And here I thought they were still standing ready for inspection." "Cut it! Multiple prisoners have escaped. I want a complete lockdown of this floor - no one enters or leaves. Târak, take these bodies and dump them in the sewer, and I mean deep." Târak went to work, and the others hurried off to fulfill their tasks. Bells started to ring from all directions. Heavy doors were slammed shut. Men grabbed extra weapons from supply posts and sprinted to their stations. Unlike these guards, Târak seemed to be in no particular hurry. Lacking a cart, his chosen method of moving bodies was to sling one over his shoulder and hold a torch in his free hand. While quite inefficient, it gave Abârzadan a means by which to leave unnoticed. With all the men patrolling the block, it would be next to impossible to sneak by them all. He didn't even know the way out. Thus, he waited patiently, and when it was his turn he stayed as limp as a dead eel. Târak carried him for several minutes before unceremoniously dumping the living "corpse" in a dank tunnel, one filled in nearly a foot of water. Abârzadan kept his head under until he was sure that the guard was gone, whereupon he stood, gasping for breath. He couldn't see a thing, and had no means to make light. Then again, Târak hadn't finished yet... * * * * * Torch in hand, Abârzadan left Târak's unconcious form where it fell. The fire glared off the walls as he sloshed down the tunnel, attempting to keep the embers dry. Was the water rising? It was now above his knees. Turning a corner, the man's heart leaped as an incline appeared. The flooded passage was left behind, the torch was dropped, and a triumphant Numenorean pushed open a rusted grate, climbing up into the city of Armenelos. Last edited by piosenniel; 10-23-2005 at 01:46 AM.

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10-24-2005, 09:21 PM	#2
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	I finally got to do the post I've been meaning to for a long, long time. Okay, everybody, figure out your Sindarin names. Thoronmir, you're all set already, eh? Feanor, you don't have to stick with Lothlomë, it's just what I was able to put together in a real hurry from the glossary in the back of the Sil. It's getting later and later and so I'm going to have to let you guys do your own work on this one. Feanor, Kath's fate is in your hands. Let me know if I stray from your purpose on it. I'm really happy to see this thread moving at a good pace right now, and there's some really good writing. By the way, Feanor, I edited my second to last post to account for the little bit of exchange that you wrote in yours just following. Okay, now that I've just posted, I guess the next one falls to either Feanor, Thoronmir, or Regin (who still needs to fill in his last save); and of course, Himaran can post up any time he wants. It's a fascinating story you've got going there, Himmy. I like it. It'll be interesting to see how that goes. Good stuff, all!