Prisoner of Númenor Planning/Discussion Thread

[littlemanpoet]

I'm going to be brash and set up a posting plan.

Himaran's save is to be filled first; that way Abarzadan can get on the back of a Karibor, joining which ever of the characters he wishes.

It looks like we've settled on the Kariborim galloping the group out of harm's way, amid a general earthquaky setting that the fleetfooted Kariborim somehow withstand (with Valaric help, it must be). I can write that post.

By then the group will be on its way toward Romenna. At that point, let's have one post (minimum) each from Feanor, Regin, and Menel; maybe, Menel, you might consider having Herugor close on the heels of the group, and mount one more attack before Romenna.

And do remember that the Valar's wrath is beginning to make itself known.

My next post after the one each, will introduce a result of Miriel's use of her palantir, just when Herugor seems to be about to defeat the group yet again (one frustrated villain!).

Sound good? Let's try to wrap this up by the end of October at the very latest, hokay?

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Works for me. Glad I don't have to post immediately, much as I'd love to. I'm out of town for the next several days, so I won't be doing much posting. But I do intend to get my Inzi/Kath post done within the next week. Can't wait to see what happens to everyone else in this battle and on the way to Romenna.

[Meneltarmacil]

Sounds good. I'll also try to figure out a way for Herugor to stow away on one of the Faithful's ships. I won't be here tomorrow, but should be here sometime on Sunday.

[Himaran]

I filled in my save, but the post is only half of what needs to done. I am incredibly busy right now, and felt that I had to get something up. I have an older post that needs to be finished as well.

Keep going with the story - don't let me slow you down.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

We need to make sure Kath stays with us, please.

[Himaran]

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]

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!

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

I can handle the name you gave me, as I haven't the ambition to look up a new one. Also, Kath's fate is currently based on my random whims. That means that... even I don't know. Right now I'm leaning toward tragic death on the boat, but you never know. It's equally likely that she lives and flourishes. Guess it depends on what you guys post that stirs my imagination.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Sorry for the delay. I always get distracted around playoff time, especially when the Astros are in. I deleted my old save and put up a new post because I wanted it to go after lmp's last one. I hope I'm not being to sentimental or that the Kariborim sound like energizer bunnies. They keep going and going and...

Anyway, someone * caugh pio caugh* could be a little more consdierate about the feelings of other people in this game with regards to baseball.
Really, is "tromp" necessary? I am going to the game tonight. It should be a good one.

[Himaran]

Just a reminder to the group: make sure that somehow, a horse is left for Abarzadan. Otherwise, he is as good as dead...

I have 2 more posts I'm working on, both inside the city. I want to finish this one in as interesting a manner as possible.

[littlemanpoet]

Uh oh, Himaran. I has assumed that you had made your choice that Abarzadan would die with the island. As I see it, we have two choices:

1. edit all our posts to leave one horse behind; and this horse would have to have been the one that Abarzadan had ridden across the island in the first place; the idea here is that the horse has loyalty to the man even if the others forget him.

2. Mabalar gets a report from the group and in that report he learns of Abarzadan, and he is either furious or horror stricken or remorseful (or some mixture of those) that this ally has been left behind, and commands that Marsillion ride back immediately and rescue him. Why Marsillion? Because it comes out in the report to Mabalar how Marsillion had spit upon and slapped Abarzadan, and Mabalar upbrades him for it, and sends him back as restitution.

Which way shall we take this, or is there a third option?

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

We've only got a few hours before the island sinks, yeah? So in order to keep our timeline smooth, we need to send back a horse now, right? Before we reach Romenna, as the trip, even on the Energizer Kariborimbunnies, takes at least a few hours. Also, whoever writes that in should account for what this horse has been doing while riderless. Surely the Faithful would notice a passengerless horse cantering along-side them?

On the plus side, my characters currently don't have the mindset to notice Abarzadan gone. Kath's dying (maybe? haven't decided yet.) and Inzi's blaming herself for it. I feel that I really must foist this twist off on someone else, as they just can't deal with it.

[Himaran]

LMP: sorry if I gave that impression... I guess, based on the timeline, it would appear like Abarzadan was going to end up staying there.

I will do my very best to get another post up by tonight!

[littlemanpoet]

Himaran, we'll go with what you want for your character (speaking rather boldly for all here as if their opinion was mine ). You tell us which of the three you want for Abarzadan:

1) stay on the island

2) have a horse left behind

3) have a horse with Marsillion hurry back for him.

Tell us which way works best for you and your character, and that's what we'll do (just between you and me and everybody else reading this, the more suspenseful the better).

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Suspense? I like suspense... there's no such thing as too much suspense... as can be seen by Kath who, in my mind, constantly flits between escapes and keels over dead.

[Himaran]

Pio: could you please place this post above Post #99 in the game thread? Thanks!

POST PLACED ~*~ PIO

___________________________START POST

Himaran's post

The last time Abarzadan had been in a Numenorean mansion was beyond the reach of his more than adequate memory. As he and Ellinel passed through the set of beautifully-crafted heavy wooden doors, the man could only glance at a few of the amazing features displayed before him before a stone-faced (and well-dressed) servant appeared and took their coats; he did not even blink at the sight of Abarzadan's (which was torn, soaked and bloodied). The still-beaming woman beside him touched his shoulder and wispered that she would go and find her father. Both she and the servant disappeared, leaving him to study the house's many intricate details. The atrium was huge; beams with various pictures carved into them supported the walls, and towering above the polished stone floor was a colored glass dome. A central, enormous and gently-curving staircased climbed up the walls, stopping briefly at each level before continuing its upward journey. Surprisingly, it was deathly quiet.

It was not Ellinel who returned to meet him. An older man, tall and well-built with a full head of still-dark hair, appeared from one of the lower doors and stepped towards him. His walk was quick, and he carried his shoulders high. His clothing was custom and exquisite. Every fiber of his being exuded power. "My daughter tells me that you are Abârzadan."

"Such is the case, yes. She believes that you knew my father."

The man's face twisted, but he regained his composure a second later. "Yes, I knew Abâranâ. By your demeanor I understand that he has passed away."

"Again, you are are correct. I thought that since you were friends, there might be some lose ends that needed tying up, assuming you and he had conducted business together."

He was quiet for a moment. "Ah, but I am rude. My name, Abârzadan, is Anadanâ. Welcome to my home. Do you require refreshments, or shall we get right to the task at hand?"

Abârzadan declined the offer, and the two headed up the staircase.


***


Anadanâ's study was immense. Row upon row of shelves was stuffed tight with leather-bound books, and heavy cabinets filled with documents lined the walls whenever an open space presented itself. A huge ivory desk covered with scattered papers sat in the center. The host led his guest straight to it, pulled up and extra chair, and bid him to sit. Anadanâ spent a few moments searching one of the cabinets, but soon returned with a large folder. He sat down and pulled out documents one at time, explaining their significance as he went. Apparently, Abâranâ and he had run a business together for many years. It started out as a small entrepreneurship, but eventually evolved into a highly succesfull enterprise that held a virtual monopoly in the housing industry for a decade. When Abârzadan's father abruptly disappeared, his partner simply took over. "But now that you're here," he assured Abârzadan, "You can sign for him and take your father's place."

Anadanâ pulled out a crumpled paper and blew a cloud of dust off it. "Here we are. Assuming that you want in on this." He picked up an inkwell with his right hand, turned it over, and grimaced. "Ah, it's empty. I will have to go and fetch a fresh bottle. Please excuse me." And with that, he stood and disappeared from the room.

Abârzadan chuckled to himself. Anadanâ had seemed like the sort of man that would have called a servant long before venturing out to find something as trivial as an ink canister. After all, there were several buttons on the a nearby panel, all labeled - a bell system that ran throughout the entire residence. Pushing the thought aside, the man snatched up the paper and read through the legal material. Everything seemed in order, and the previous signiture had indeed been made by Abâranâ Barântâira.

Wait. Batânzâira... Barântâira. That is not his name! Upon making this startling revelation, the man leaped to his feet. Suddenly visible was a dark pool of ink, slowly settling at the bottom of an otherwise-empty silver waste-basket.

And Abârzadan make a quick and accurate assumption. Something about the entire afternoon was very, very wrong.


_________________________________________END POST


Have I got you all intrigued yet? I'm already working hard on the next one!

LMP: Do whichever you wish. The horse coming back is easier to edit in than a whole conversation between Abarpanaru and Marsillion, but if you want to go the extra mile than go right ahead. It would certainly tie that little side-story up nicely.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Originally Posted by Himaran

Have I got you all intrigued yet? I'm already working hard on the next one!

Yes!

[littlemanpoet]

Originally Posted by Himaran

LMP: Do whichever you wish. The horse coming back is easier to edit in than a whole conversation between Abarpanaru and Marsillion, but if you want to go the extra mile than go right ahead. It would certainly tie that little side-story up nicely.

Okay. We'll dispense with Marsillion going back for Abarzadan, and have a horse left behind. First I gotta check and see if we ever named the beast that carried Abarzadan, or whether I can just choose one (besides Lomi and Izri, of course).

[littlemanpoet]

I've edited my post (I don't remember the number) in which Mabalar, Tiru, and Inzi help Kathaani onto the back of Izri. The modified wording is bolded. So Kali stays behind for Abarzadan. Kali is intelligent, and remembers the man. Kali, it seems to me, will stay within the precincts of the Temple, hiding as well as she can, waiting for Abarzadan until the last possible moment, which she will choose upon horse's instinct. So there's some suspense for you, Himaran, to write into the post when Abarzadan meets up with Kali.

In my most recent post, Herugor has used sorcery to personally get in between the party and Romenna, and has called all the guards he could from the vicinity, which has surrounded the group. They are hopelessly outnumbered. But Miriel has used the palantir (now given to Inzi) to send word to Elendil of the desperate escape of Mabalar and the Mellethroch household. Elendil will send out a small army to overpower Herugor's guards and save the Mellethrochs, the mearas, and the one remaining palantir. By the way, the palantir in Inzi's possession is stirred by its recent use, and Feanor, you could have Inzi feel its heat, pull it out, and look and see the approaching army come to save the group - it would be cool for her to hint of her hope without saying it plainly, especially within the hearing of Herugor. Have fun!

What you guys want to write up until that happens, go for it. I'll post up the Elendil to the rescue post some time in the near future.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Originally Posted by littlemanpoet

By the way, the palantir in Inzi's possession is stirred by its recent use, and Feanor, you could have Inzi feel its heat, pull it out, and look and see the approaching army come to save the group - it would be cool for her to hint of her hope without saying it plainly, especially within the hearing of Herugor. Have fun!

How well you have anticipated my idea of fun. I'll get on it in the near future (not tonight though... I've got several more pages to write complaining about literary theory and how Freud was an old hack. ).

[Himaran]

Pio: Could you please place this post above Post #101 in the game thread? Thanks!

POST PLACED ~*~ PIO

Startpost__________________________

Himaran's post

Dropping the suspicious document on the desk, Abârzadan walked over to the cabinet from which his host had produced the obviously incorrect papers. Scanning the labels, he quickly recognized that they were alphebetically ordered. If those did not regard my father then... surely something else did. He found the "B's," and rolled down the line; Ba, Bat, Batâ, Batân...

There was nothing.

The man heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps all this had been a big mistake after all.

Then he noticed the sections.

At the top of the cabinet he was standing in front of, a small sign read "Partners." Each one is its own file!. Well, if Partner didn't apply, what did? "Raw Materials?" "Transportation?" No, these were all connected to Anadanâ's housing business. The man worked his way around the room, checking the names for anything that looked suspicious. And then he saw it, clear as daylight.

"Political Enemies."

Not even bothering to scroll, Abârzadan pulled out his father's "file," which consisted of a small, heavy and unlocked metal box. He hauled it over to a nearby table and set it down. Prying up the lid, the man scooped out a pile of papers. The first several consisted of background information on his father, such as his birthdate, childhood residence, and geneology. Why does this man have a record on Abâranâ? Political enemies? He looked at the next document. Its title read, "Legislation and Political Measures." Names rolled out before him at startling speed - child labor, slavery, taxation; all the major issures were present. Nothing concrete or explanatory, though. But the next piece made his blood run cold.

"Voting Records."

After all, his father had been on the Numenorean High Council. While the King still had the final say in all matters, the council had wielded considerable power during that time. So what had he done to deserve the label of "enemy?" Nothing was making sense. Lists, lists, and yet more lists. Had it not been for the fact that Abâranâ's name had been circled, he might never have found it. The man started checking the votes. Child labor, No. Legalizing prostitution, No. All of the measures he had voted against had passed. In the face of great opposition, the politician had stood up for his beliefs. And to what end? The final decision in the record was entitled, "Centralized Army Fund." Origonally, garrisons in cities were run and operated by individual councils. This law created a single army controlled by Ar-Pharazôn alone, one which would have made controlling a disobediants populace far easier. He checked the list on the right side of the paper, and was surprised by what he saw.

His father had not voted.

Tossing it aside, he scooped up the next one. This one was simply labeled, "Status." There were three names on the paper. His mother's name had been crossed off. The names of his father and himself had not.

Abârzadan sank back into the chair behind him. His mother's death, the flight from Numenor; it had all become remarkably clear within the course of the past few minutes. His father's last words rang hauntingly in his memory. "I say this, so that you will indeed go back there, to see the place where our ancestors lie." And discover the truth.

A tremble in the floor snapped him out of his daydream.

The ink had been a diversion for Anadanâ to leave the room. Where was he? The man was sure that the aging politician would be more than happy to get Abârzadan's name scratched off that list once and for all. Rolling up the papers, he fastened them with a nearby tie and hurried out of the room. Maybe the Valar would be merciful to him. Maybe there was still time.

Endpost________________________


Well, my next post will get Abarzadan out of the house, onto his horse, and out of the city. If I have time, I will write another one about his harried journey back, with the island sinking down around him. It could be very interesting.

[littlemanpoet]

Great stuff, Himaran. I think it's great how you're fitting Abarzadan's story into the flow. Good stuff. Now I'm just waiting for at least Feanor to post before I continue.

*LMP taps fingers (im)patiently waiting for someone else to post on the group storyline......*

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Waiting for me, eh? Okay. It'll be after 3:00 though. I've got several things to do before I can sit and write.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Okeydokey. Inzi's got faith and hope. Hope that helps. I got off easy on Herugor not hearing though. The weather just sucks right now. Although if he can read lips, we may be in trouble.

[littlemanpoet]

Okay, I've set up Abarzadan's return to the group at the tale end of this post. I hope that leaves you enough posting space to do what you need to dove-tail Abarzadan's story with the rest of the group, Himaran.

Regin, Feanor, & Menel, I didn't put words in your mouths in the rescue post that I just wrote. It feels wrong that Mabalar speaks to Elendil and nobody else, so I'd like for you to write lines for your characters to think and say, telling me where to place them in my post. Sound good?

Oh! And feel free to continue the story. It's back to Rómenna, onto the ships, always under stormy conditions and more quaking of the earth. Inzi still has the palantir, which could be used to view Tar Miriel standing atop the Meneltarma, or all the way to Ar Pharazon's fleet, or what have you.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Insert this where you like, O poetic small male:

--

Inzillomì embraced her brother Anarion swiftly before speaking to her father. She straightened behind Mabalar as she talked to him, calling over the elements: "Father, Kâthaanî is injured, perhaps to the death. We mustn't delay lest your grandchild be beyond aid."

--

Por favor, also add in a snippet with several guards taking Kath (unconscious) and riding uber-fast off down the road to get her to help and semi-safety before everybody else? My point for this is so that she can potentially die without my having to think about it for a while (yes, I'll admit to being lazy), but more because so many soldiers will not be able to travel as quickly as a smaller number, and the poor lass will die very soon without some fast help. I still haven't figured out if she'll live or die, but it seems prudent at this point to get her to help really fast, because these guys can't delay on the road to help her, and she'll definately die if she's stuck at their fast-but-not-fast-enough pace.

[Meneltarmacil]

After Regin fills in his save, I'm planning on writing a final or close-to-final post for Thoronmir and having Herugor stow away in one of the ships' holds. Please let me know if anything else should go in this "departure" post.

[Himaran]

Dang, I've been really busy with exams and stuff. I will do my best to get Abarzadan out of the city and to the ships by the end of the week at the latest...

[littlemanpoet]

I had been thinking, Menel, that Herugor being a sorcerer, could he shape-change into a rat or something? I suppose we'll need a Pio-ruling on that one, eh? But if you don't want to go that way, no bother.

Looking forward to your next post, Himaran. Was my mention of your horse careering toward the others, okay with you?

[Regin Hardhammer]

Meneltarmacil and others-

Sorry I am so late. Physics is doing me in! I will fill my new save this weekend.

- Regin

[piosenniel]

My gut feeling would be to forego the shape-changing . . . please try to think of something else for Herugor . . .

[littlemanpoet]

Originally Posted by piosenniel

My gut feeling would be to forego the shape-changing . . . please try to think of something else for Herugor . . .

Okay. Then we seem to have two choices for Herugor: (1) he somehow succeeds in slipping onto one of the boats, without the aid of sorcery. Whereas this seems far-fetched to me, maybe you can make it believable, Menel. (2) Herugor feigns repentance. This actually seems more in keeping with a Tolkieniean mentality ... at least, to me. The Faithful figure that he's lying and that his heart's as black as coal, but they also cannot set aside hope that just maybe it's real. So they let him board, but under guard, and hold him prisoner for long whiles in Middle Earth until he is sprung by Sauron's cronies/underlings, who knows how many years later. I favor #2.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

I favor two also. Also, LMP: do you mind if I swipe control over the guards you had take Kath to Romenna?

[littlemanpoet]

Originally Posted by Feanor of the Peredhil

I favor two also. Also, LMP: do you mind if I swipe control over the guards you had take Kath to Romenna?

Of course not. This has turned out to be every bit as much your rpg as anybody else's, and more than some.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Much though I hate to admit that I don't know what I'm doing yet, Kath's death is still up for grabs. Does anybody feel strongly either way for her life or death?

[piosenniel]

Read-along fan here . . .

I'm placing my preferences for Kath's death . . . with a last fevered rally, perhaps, as the ship slips away from the island and some final words of hope expressed by her . . .

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Hm... one for a death. Anybody else?

[littlemanpoet]

As the writer for the girl's father, I want my close companion to stay alive, but that's really Mabalar's point of view. Either way works for me.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Originally Posted by littlemanpoet

As the writer for the girl's father, I want my close companion to stay alive, but that's really Mabalar's point of view. Either way works for me.

Playing Devil's Advocate here...

Do you not think that it would be beautifully bittersweet that Mabalar was saved from tragedy only to lose his daughter in the process? How would he cope, I wonder, and how would Inzi deal? Ah, the beautiful tension that it would cause in the otherwise happy ending. So very Tolkienesque, don't you think, for every victory to be a partial defeat?

[littlemanpoet]

Well now. This hits home harder than I would have thought it could. Worth a Books discussion, I bet. Theoden and Denethor lost their first born sons. Theoden had a nephew and niece remaining to him, Denethor a second son. Mabalar has neither, but he does have his relative youth and a wife with whom he could have more children. There are few things worse to a parent than losing a child, especially a grown one in the flower of youth. Bittersweet victory? More like a tragedy. You know that if is was really you, you would give your life so that your daughter could live. Taking this more personally than I expected, sorry.