Assigned to Mordor RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Official Off-topic Post

I stick out my little finger when drinking any kind of beverage. Its a natural reaction to lifting a beverage-holder in Britain. We Brits have a very slight difference in our blood to the rest of the world's population, completely isolated in our little fingers. It generates a force against most kinds of drink, particularly tea (there is currently a major study being undertaken to discover why) which pushes the finger away from the drink.

Interesting eh?

On another note, why is cheekiness associated with Brits? Anyone have any ideas?

end official off-topic post.

unbeknownst courtesy of Eomer of the Rohirrim

[Encaitare]

A myriad of sounds came from the PT Cruiser: a low and reproachful yell of surprise, a rasy cry of distress, a high shriek of pure terror, and a quieak like that of a small animal which has just been thrown against a soft surface. The car itself had also let out a cry as it was bumped off the road, but all the passengers heard was the squeal of tires. What the vehicle actually said was "OhnoOhnoOhnoUlmosavemeeeeee!!!" (Ulmo is, after all, the Vala whom all motor vehicles hold in the highest regard, since he did indeed drive a car of his own*), but as neither Dwarf, nor woman, nor Orc, nor ferret spoke Automobile, the words were lost on them.

It took Wilhelmina a moment to realize that the steering wheel had magically materialized before her. "Where did you come from?" she wondered aloud. Next to her, Fléin was stamping his feet in search of pedals which were no longer there either, and it dawned upon the old woman that it would be a good idea to stop the car.

"I hope you don't mind driving a bit more," Wilhelmina said to her companion, hopping out of the car. She'd already begun to turn a bit Orkish even from the short time behind the wheel, and she disliked the sensation very much.

As they got back on the road, the Cruiser only a little worse for the wear, it became apparent that a number of changes had been made on the surrounding area.

"Kotekth fith, pewiod? What'th that thuppothed to mean?" the kamuraorc inquired curiously.

Wilhelmina did not care to enlighten him about feminine hygiene, and instead said, "Goodness, it's getting toasty!" She tried rolling the window down, but the hot wind blew dust in her face.

"This'll be Anakron's doing," Fléin said darkly. "Let's hope he keeps the tricks in his sleeve for a while."

They did not know it, but at that precise moment, two very strange things were happening.

Not far from the road was a garish poster five stories high. It displayed the silhouette of a goblin, frozen in the middle of an awkward dance move. One word accompanied the image: iOrc. While the sign was unsightly, and only a few people at that point actually knew what an iAnything was, that was not the strange part. The monstrous ape currently scaling the sign held that office.

And very, very far away, Ulmo was wondering why he had just had a number of cars crying out to him for help. "Must be another bloody pile-up in Lûndûn," he grumbled. "I do hope the tow trucks come this time." He put his blue convertible in Drive, cranked up the Beach Boys, and decided to go see if there were any heroes who might need directions to Gondolin.


*"Behold now Ulmo leapt upon his car before the doorway of his palace below the still waters of the Outer Sea" - Book of Lost Tales 2

[the phantom]

Soon after leaving Edge-Where, it began sleeting. "This is exactly why I wanted an SUV with four wheel drive, anti-lock brakes, and quality tires," said orc-Mardil as the SUV sped past yet another car that had slid off the road.

"When will we arrive at Mount Doom?" asked Sai.

"Oh, it isn't far," said Mardil. "We left Edge-Where at 9:00 AM and it's about 225 miles to Mount Doom. Even if this weather persists, we will arrive at Mount Doom around 1:00 PM- unless we encounter some delays."

"Is that likely?" asked Sai.

"Yes," answered Mardil.

"How long do you think that might take?" asked Sai.

"It depends on what the delay is for," said Mardil with a hint of hostility. "We should leave the radio on the traffic station. That way, if we have advanced warning we can take an alternate route."

"Aren't most roads besides the Interstate in really poor condition?"

"Yes, Sai," said Mardil slowly, barely restraining his wrath, "But this vehicle can handle it. Any other questions, or are you finished bugging me?"

"Hey, Mardil, calm down. Your orcish form is making you irritable," said Sai.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Mardil. Mardil slumped a bit in his chair, took several deep breaths, and began humming in an effort to calm his nerves.

Suddenly Sai burst out, "Mardil! Stop the car - it's Alli!"

"Wha- where?" stuttered Mardil, bringing his mind back to the present.

"Over on the side of the road," answered Sai. "Pull over! If her car's broken down we can give her a lift."

For a moment, Mardil's mind fluttered back to the rescue from the balrog. He had put himself at risk and gotten Alli to Edge-Where just in time to receive full points-and she had repaid this favor by first yelling at him and then avoiding him. "Over-emotional, irrational girl!" he thought. "I really don't feel like having her along. Once again, I'm saving her, and once again she probably won't have anything good to say to me. But, I hate to leave her with everyone watching." Mardil looked back at Orckel. He had his camera up and had it fixed on Alli as the SUV sped past. She was staggering. Mardil wasn't certain, but it looked like the side of her face was bloody.

Cursing mentally, Mardil pulled over onto the shoulder and came to a stop. Sai gave a sigh of relief. Mardil put the vehicle into reverse and backed up until they were within twenty yards of Alli. As Mardil exited the vehicle, Alli fell to the ground. Rushing forward, Mardil scooped her up and brought her back to the SUV and deposited her in the back seat (after ordering Orckel to climb back into the rear with the spare tires). For the next twenty minutes of the drive, Alli could be heard murmuring a constant stream of unintelligible words with a "Mardil" thrown in every once and a while.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli lost train of thought. One moment she was muttering obscenities about the state of Mordor and her mood and then next there was a gas-guzzling SUV next to her and suddenly she fell.

It was a rather odd sensation; she knew that she wasn't awake, but she also knew she wasn't really sleeping. She could have sworn that she was lifted gently as a sleeping child by strong, warm arms... but she also could have sworn that she was flying... and besides... her swearing of late had been frowned upon by the more conservative members of her kamura crew. Somehow she floated between consciousness and she could feel the ground moving beneath her. Had Roggie come back? She was warm again.

She started to see things. She knew they were dreams, but they seemed so real.

Mardil came toward her. She backed away stubbornly. There was a white horse involved in the vision and the words "happily ever after" flitted through her head. She groaned and muttered "No... no... go away."

Her father was there. He hugged his daughter as she returned home. He was so glad to see her.

He turned into Valde. His eyebrows overwhelmed her. "Tweeze." she mumbled.

She was holding a baby. He was clad in a black cape with dark and sinister eyes. He gurgled happily and she pushed his hood back. Eyebrows again. "Wax." she moaned desparately.

She was on the Jerry Springer Show. Mardil appeared in the audience, chanting "Jerry, Jerry!". "Mardil?" she asked, confused. She wanted very much to escape from this foolish television show. Was he there to save her? No... chivalry was dead. He came on stage. He had on a kilt. A small man in red jumped out from the audience and spat a fireball at him. Mardil was engulfed in flames ("Mardil!") and turned into Roggie of Morgoth. His shadowy form burned steadily and dream Alli stepped backward, shielding herself. "You're so hot." His wings disappeared.

Alli screamed at the horror of a wingless balrog and when the SUV hit a rather large bump she woke with a start and it took a rather long time before it occured to her that the ground wasn't moving so much as that she was laying on the seat of a moving vehicle and before the writer decided to end the sentence. Alli looked up and saw Sai glancing back worriedly. Mardorc concentrated on the road. She suddenly remembered her mission to save the world from the evil Màrîo. Had Mardil "saved" her again? She sat up angrily and fell right back down, blood oozing slightly from her head wound. She hit the back of her head on the door handle. This did not much more improve her disposition.

"Pull.... over...." she ordered firmly through gritted teeth. "and let me the [deleted] out of this gas-guzzling, environment-destroying, too-macho, trying-to-compensate-for-something hunk of moving metal before I let myself out. What right do you have to abduct me AGAIN when I was perfectly fine on my own?!"

[the guy who be short]

Fléin took his hands off the steering wheel, shrinking back to dwarf size. Then, slinking through the gap between the driver and passenger seats, he slid into the back, allowing Wilhelmina to cross over without anything awkward happening, "like my sitting on your lap."

"Woo don't theem to mind thitting on my lap," the still-suspiciously-nameless back seat orc replied. Fléin hit him with the flat of his axe.

A short while later, the Dwarf was once more a Dworc. A raging sandstorm had sprung up, and traffic was at a standstill. How he was meant to perform a turn in the road and get them back in the right direction in this weather, Fléin had no idea.

"Ith that-"

"Shut up," a harmonious chorus intervened.

"Zhiant Monkey!" the orc squealed on regardless.

Fléin and Wilhelmina both strained their eyes. "Yes, I can see where you're coming from," Wilhelmina replied, "that sandcloud does look exactly like a-"

The sandcloud bellowed. Fléorc and Wilhelmina instinctively flung their hands over their respective ears, but they could still feel the beast roaring in their chests. Their heartbeats seems to falter to accomodate the noise.

The ferocity of the storm died down in inverse proportion with the ferocity of the giant ape before them. They could see it clearly now, right in front of the windscreen. Far worse, it could see them clearly, right behind the windscreen.

"Wondewfuw! Wondewfuw thhot!" the orc squirmed in delight. "I wondew how Anakwon doeth it, it'th tho realithtic, ithn't it?"

The ape - King Kong - beat its chest in a cinematic fashion, let out a bellow for its own sake, reached out, and picked the car up in one hand.

Wilhelmina and Fléin ignored the smell of urine suddenly emanating from the back seat.

The ape lifted the car to its face; all that was visible in the windscreen was a gigantic eye, staring into the innards of the cruiser. Admittedly, there was quite a lot of fur visible around it too, but that didn't sound as dramatic. The pupil roved from Fléin to Wilhelmina to the sticky mess in the back seat. Fléin was struggling to keep from following the Orc's example.

Wilhelmina, on the other hand, seemed to find the entire experience exhilarating beyond belief. "Isn't he a beauty?" she said to the quivering dwarf, before turning back to the ape. She rolled down her window and leant out.

"Are you mad? You'll get us both killed!" Fléin whispered urgently at her. A small whimper from the back seat communicated a "I don't want to die either," from the Orc.

But Wilhelmina ignored them both. She stuck her head out of the window, squinting into the failing sandstorm (the ape was blocking off the flow of the air) and screamed, as loudly as her old lungs could manage, "Coooo-eee! Coooooooo-eeeeeee!"

The ape receded a little, then turned his head to look directly at the beaming woman (Why, oh why, did I bring her with me?), and, to Fléin's amazement, beamed back. It roared in glee to spot her face, holding out its other hand for her to climb onto. The Dworc watched, mesmerized, as she stepped out, shielding her face with her hand, and looked up at the creature. "Aren't you a beauty?"

And at that moment, Mr Swanky descended onto the old woman's face. The ape gasped; the ferret stared up at the black muzzle of the monster.

And lo, the beast looked upon the face of beauty, and from that time she (Fléin looked down to check on this point) stayed her hand from killing, and she was as one dead.

The ferret seemed quite pleased about the whole affair too.

[littlemanpoet]

It was two hours past midday. The traffic snarls had begun at the cross-over point from left-side-of-the-roadness to the-other-left-side-of-the-roadness. Car after car squealed out of control because too many orcs insisted on driving alone, thus rendering them in the passenger's seat and useless in terms of car control. Anakron allowed the hint of a smile.


It seemed that King Kong himself had appeared in Mordor. What hey, a brand new Anakronism. Some of these things appeared will-Anakron or nill-Anakron. Little matter. The Grand Anakronist wondered if King Kong would find his Empire State Building, and if he would find his girl. He didn't care either way. He also did not care that various and sundry of the members of the Offending Party thought incorrectly as to who was what, or what was who. He didn't even care if they succeeded. He did not, of course, mind that Mordor was getting only more interesting with the advent of the Offending Party's desperate race to get out. Anakron allowed a mild smirk.

The traffic snarls worsened. That was because of Rôgû. Known to balrog-wingers by his nickname of Roggie. Rôgû was angry. He had murder on his mind. Not that Anakron could read balrog minds, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that someone who had a cold virus freezing one of his legs into shards, making him a maimed laughing stock amongst balrogs, could not be quite pleased with things. Rôgû was above ground, wreaking havoc along the interstate, picking up and throwing down Cruisers, Little French Cars with No Guts, Hummers, and anything else that came to claw. Traffic had been backing up in both directions for miles, for a good hour. Anakron allowed the quickest, smallest escape of a momentary giggle.

All the alternate roads were two lanes only. And towns were frequent, slowing traffic down to 30 miles per hour .... at best. And in Mordor, it was always rush hour, no matter the time of day ... especially in the towns. Anakron snickered.

And raised his staff. The cat yowled. The sandstorm stopped, sputtered, spewed, and spit the sand out of its mouth. It looked at Anakron out of the side of its eyes, wondering why it had been stopped.

"You are to turn into a thunderstorm hiding a tornado," Anakron said to it. It grinned and bloated and grew dark and wet and began spinning. Anakron cackled and did a jig.

[Celuien]

Panakeia sped up the ramp to M25, fighting the blinding sleet. By now, she had learned to use the pedals in her Cruiser quite efficiently. She was particularly fond of the accelerator. It’s simply exhilarating. The thrill of it all. She pressed down on the pedal and merged onto the Interstate with a zoom, ignoring the fact that the coefficient of friction for bald rubber tires on an icy road was roughly equivalent to cotton socks on a newly waxed floor. The Cruiser slid wildly, colliding with a row of strange objects resembling gigantic orange ice-cream cones. Wonder what those were for.

The road was oddly quiet for a Mordorian highway. Too quiet. There wasn’t another driver in sight, save for a few slow moving trucks containing more of the odd orange hats (the best explanation Panakeia could generate, although she was still puzzled by their placement at the roadside) and squads of orcs. Something had to happen.

And it did. Suddenly, the weather changed. Instead of the lashing sleet, Panakeia’s windshield was now hammered by flying sand. She couldn’t see a thing until, rounding a bend, she found the other drivers. Cars were at a standstill behind a line of the orange hats. “Your Taxes at Work. Road Under Construction For Your Safety and Convenience.” Too late, Panakeia slammed her foot against the brake. She swerved off to the side of the road. Four loud pops informed her that her tires had blown out. The Cruiser came to an unsteady stop at the edge of the highway, just in front of an enormous billboard. “Paint your game face on.” Panakeia stared at the sign, puzzled, and then set the bizarre message down to the poor taste in advertisements that seemed to reign in the local industry.

She walked around her Cruiser. Four flats. Now what? Bert exited the Cruiser, pointing his kamura at the flattened tires and asking Panakeia what she planned to do next. Ignoring his running commentary, Panakeia walked ahead in hopes of finding assistance. Maybe there’s a service station nearby.

Then she noticed that she was not the only driver in distress. A tiny road paralleling the highway ran on the other side of the billboard. Another Cruiser, its front end crushed, sat at the sign’s foot. And a man lay under the car, his face covered with sand. Looks like trouble. Best not to get involved. She spun on her heel to leave…and ran straight into Bert.

“Next time on Escape from Mordor. Will Panakeia play the hero and rescue the unknown stranger? Or will she turn a blind eye and continue her own journey, ruthless as ever? Find out tomorrow, same time, same station.”

The word ruthless stung Panakeia like the blowing sand around her. Looks like there’s no choice now. I’m on kamura. What would my fans say? She stared at Bert, the expression of one who has been unjustly slighted on her face.

“Of course I’m going to help. How could I leave anyone stranded in this storm? Come on.” She hurried up to the disabled Cruiser and tapped the unconscious man on the shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

He awoke with a start. “Begone! Thou gleeking beetle-headed pumpion!” He shook the sand out of his face.

Panakeia was shocked to recognize another member of the Offending Party. What in Middle-earth could have happened to Valde? Aloud she said, “A fine way to welcome me! I came to help you, but if that’s the way the wind blows, so be it.” She started away.

Valde called to her. “No, forgive me. I was dreaming.” He stared at Panakeia as if attempting to recall something. “Panakeia, yes?”

“Well, that’s more like it.” She brightened. “That’s right. Nice to see you, Valde.” Panakeia turned her profile to the kamura, making sure to put her better side in full view. “Need a ride?”

Valde noted Panakeia’s posturing for the kamura. He wasn’t sure he liked this amateur putting on a show. But he was in a spot. “Yes, I do. If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all.” She noticed the kamura man trapped in Valde’s Cruiser and pointed him out to Bert, who quickly went to free his colleague while Valde and Panakeia went to survey the damage to her vehicle. They were shortly joined by Bert and the kamura man, who seemed shaken more than hurt.

Panakeia appealed to them. “Now’s the time to make yourselves useful. Change the tires.” Bert nodded and set to work, but the kamura man gaped at her. “That’s not in my contract.”

“Well, it’s not in my contract to take you with me. Go on and help Bert, or you can stay here.” Grumbling something about temperamental stars giving too many orders, he joined Bert at the back of Panakeia’s Cruiser.

Half an hour later, just as a thunderstorm started to drench the ground with rain, the four of them were seated in the Cruiser, waiting in a long line of traffic on the highway.

[the phantom]

"Should I try and revive her?" Sai asked Mardil shortly after they were on the road again.

"No, leave her alone," ordered Mardil. "I think the trip will probably be more pleasant for all of us if she stays knocked out until Mount Doom."

After a bit, Sai spoke again. "Isn't Mordor supposed to be rocky, hot, and dry?"

"Yes, for the most part, but we're still in Nurnia," answered Mardil. "Ages ago, when Sauron was lord here, Nurnia was where his slaves worked fields and such, so obviously he didn't blast this area with the breath of death the way he did everything in the north of his land. As you can see, there are even stands of trees in this country."

As he spoke the road entered a forest of pines. Soon, the road began climbing up towards a high ridge of land that seemed to stretch in both directions to distant mountains. "I'll bet that's where the land will change," said Mardil as he examined his map. "That should be the border of Nurnia."

As they approached the top of the ridge, they noticed the pines beginning to thin out, and there appeared to be racks of coats scattered throughout the trees. As they continued, the trees were replaced completely by rows upon rows of coats. "We're leaving Nurnia all right," said Mardil.

When they reached the top of the ridge, Mardil pulled over onto the shoulder. "There's Mount Doom, dead ahead."

Sai looked at it for a moment, but she was soon focused on something a bit nearer. "Look, Mardil- what is that just a bit down the road?"

Mardil's eyes widened in amazement. "It looks like the road flips directions."

"But why are all of those cars off the road?"

"I don't know. I'm going to turn the radio on and scan for a traffic report."

ssssssss...your home for the best music of the late 3rd age...sssssssss...and I really think that Dol Amroth needs to find a better point guard...ssssssss...Oops, I did it again, I play with...ssssssss...partly cloudy with a chance...sssssss...in the game, oh baby baby, Oops you think I'm in love-

"That's not a traffic report, Mardil," said Sai, turning the sound down as she spoke.

"Hey! I like that song!" protested Mardil.

"Are you kidding? That song is awful!" said Sai.

"Well, okay, I guess I don't like the song that much, but the video is great. The... uh... choreography, and... um, the... camera angles and such."

Sai rolled her eyes. "In other words, you think Britney Spears is hot."

"She's got a great body! You can't deny that!" said Mardil in defense.

"Okay, whatever, just find a traffic report," said Sai, still rolling her eyes.

ssssss...tomorrow we'll see mostly sunny skies with...ssssssss...no way will the king support such legislation, because there...ssssssss...switches sides of the road right after leaving Nurnia.

"That's it! Turn it up!"

According to what information we have, not only do the lanes switch, but the steering wheel and pedals switch sides of the vehicle, so if you have a passenger have them prepared to drive. If you are by yourself, go slowly, and when you cross the red line on the road, be ready to grab the wheel as it appears in front of the passenger seat.

"Well, no wonder all of those cars are crashing. They weren't able to control their vehicle," remarked Mardil.

Sai climbed into the back seat, leaving the entire front to Mardil. "You do what that guy said the directions were for a driver driving alone. Can you do that?"

"M'lady- Mardil can do anything."

------------

"Wow," said Sai looking at the car thermometer. "It's up to ninety degrees outside. I can't believe it was just sleeting only an hour ago. That is really strange."

"Everything in Mordor is strange," answered Mardil. "I mean, just look at me. I'm turned into an orc!"

"You know Mardil, you aren't a half bad looking orc," laughed Sai.

"Ha ha, very funny," said Mardil, feeling a bit self concious about his appearance.

"Oh, the's vewy wight, you know," lisped Orckel from the back. "You have a nithe even thkin tone, good teeth, and vewy shemetrical fathial featureth. Aftew tonight'th epithode ith aired, it'll only be a thort time before pictureth of you in your orcith form awe hanging in da bedwoomth of orc-girlth evewywhewe."

"I've never been more proud," said Mardil.

[the guy who be short]

Car in one hand, ferret in the other, Queen Quon marched towards Orodruin. They were making wonderful progress - Queenie was marching along the side of the road, positively zooming in comparison to the traffic on the roads.

Fléin, relaxed, laid back in his chair, and in Dwarf form, sighed. "This is amazing. Who'd have thought it would be possible to tame a gigantic ape from a savage island with no experience or understanding of the English language? And that it would fall in love with a creature a fraction of its size? Ha, quite funny really, isn't it?"

Wilhelmina muttered something about Hollywood and the unlikeliness thereof. "And I'm dreading separating the two once we get there..." she finished.

The conversation lapsed into a somewhat pleasant silence. Though Wilhelmina seemed worried, Fléin had no bright ideas to contribute, so he relaxed. The gentle swaying of the car was soothing, the pace incredible, the sandstorm was dying down, love was in the air, and, perhaps most importantly for the Dwarf, they weren't using any fuel at all. All that siphoning for nothing... And they had hardly touched their store of money, either - at least, he hadn't touched his, and all Wilhelmina had bought was a little hose.

He closed his eyes and nodded off for what seemed like only a few minutes before his eyes opened suddenly, cymbals clashed in his ears, and his sense of relaxation disappated in an instant. The sky was screaming in rage - the cymbals were thunder - not good, he reflected, at this height.

Fléin suddenly noticed that Wilhelmina was screaming something into his ear, but he couldn't hear a word of it. He motioned this to her. She responded by pointing out at the ape - invisible through the driving rain, but he must have been there - and then at her hat. Mr Swanky was stuck out there.

White light flooded Fléin's brain. The following roar was nothing compared to the squeal that rose from Wilhelmina, though. The car started - falling? Falling?! Queen Quon had been struck by lightning! His sight returned slowly, confirming the fact that they were falling towards the earth - the ape, too, was collapsing in front of them.

Wilhelmina continued screaming - Swanky! Swanky!, he could make out the words now, but a fresh roll of thunder cut off her squeals once more. Her face streamed as if she were outside. Only now did he somewhat appreciate how much that ferret had meant to the woman, her only friend throughout years of Mordorian life; now, falling, perhaps struck, in the hands of an ape.

An almightly crash as they hit the ground, Fléin's face struck the steering wheel, and pain shot through his face. White light - brighter than before, closer, the storm was upon them! - a boom from the back of the car, smoke, an explosion, flame in the driving rain, and Fléin passed out into blissful unawareness of the Hell around him.