ATM II RPG

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Blue gloves and true love being what they were, the entirety of the tomb knew this situation was simply built to be dramatized.

"Aime..." Alli whispered to his lips in the shadows, "we're not alone. How have they not seen us yet?"

"I could stab them all swiftly."

"Aime, that's not my point. Maybe it is. Oh, Aime! Panakeia and Anakron and various and sundry extras, and I'm almost certain I heard Smilog, though I could so easily be wrong... and a man from Panakeia's past and blue gloves, Aime, blue gloves!"

"I know..." He didn't.

"Aime, everyone knows that blue gloves are symbols. Ceremonial garb for those serving the darker powers. Blue gloves! Oh, Aime! Blue gloves, and from Panakeia and Anakron, oh what shall I do! Where shall I turn!? We are trapped in this very small, cramped, dark, badly lit, slightly smelly, certainly damp and a bit moldy tomb that may or may not contain corpses, and we are not alone!"

"Shh, they'll hear you."

"Aime, there is only one exit, and they are between us and it, and the wolves," the sound of howls punctuated the moment, "are closing in, and blue gloves! They've turned on me, Aime. The Wizards and Wolves aren't enough, but my friends have betrayed me and block my escape! How shall I ever survive?"

And thusly, Alli swooned into his arms and whether their companions in the former resting place of the former Grand Anakronist heard any of their exchange, they did indeed block Alli's exit, and Alli did indeed believe them to be secret wearers of Blue Gloves. Things, to put it lightly, had just taken a turn for the worse.

[Celuien]

"Do you even know who I am?"

Panakeia continued to stare. Slowly, she answered, "Yes. Yes. I do know who you are. Elempí. We met in Dol Gaurgauroth." Her mind traveled back, as it was wont to do, and she relived the first moments of their acquaintance.

Anakron seemed to split in two. Out from Anakron walked a balding, bearded, and bespectacled nincompoop who smiled stupidly at everybody else, trying hopelessly to fit in as quick as possible.

"This, my friends, is my abstemious alter ego, Elempí, a most embarrassing figment, no doubt you can see right away."

Yes. That same man now stood before her. Elempí, Anakron's usually carefully hidden alter-ego.

"Well that's good. For a minute there, I thought you forgot."

"No. I didn't forget. I - I just wasn't expecting - Phizzick! What happened?"

The miracle-healer shrugged. "Beats me. I guess this was the part of him that was still alive. The part that was talking about true love and such. If you don't like it, talk to my lawyer."

Elempí looked ready to pout. "What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?"

Was she? Could she accept that Anakron was no longer Anakron, but instead had transformed into his alter-ego? Would Elempí turn out to be the holder of the good in Anakron, as the Grand Anakronist had claimed more than once? Would Panakeia and Elempí live happily ever after, after all? That future all hung upon Panakeia's reply to a simple question. Was she happy to see Elempí again?

Panakeia's lips began to form their answer, but just then a soft thump echoed in the chamber.

"What's that?" she whispered, startled by the disturbance.

In drew his sword. "We shall see." With the expert swordsman in the lead, the group turned towards a dark corner of the crypt, not knowing who or what they would find in its recesses.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The noise of the war drums was getting louder and faster; the earth was slowly begging to shake, causing some of the older standing stones to crumble or fall down. A great stomping began somewhere in the south accompanied by the faint sound of fell horns.

Smilog ate some jelly babies.

"I say," mused The Barrow Wight, "what the devil do you think those fellows will do?"

"Kill us all?" suggested Khuz, "but just why is another question. Those Blue wizards really do have a bee in their bonnet about something."

"It's times like this," said Smilog, "that I wish I had paid more attention during those political meetings." They agreed that this may have helped. But now they faced the south and could see a great black mass in the distance marching to join the greater mass of the main army. A blue flame leaped up from somewhere in the middle of the army, revealing, for a second, evil faces covered in fur and nasty stuff. The Barrow Wight trembled and placed his sword back in it's scabbard.

Tollin walked forwards and said, "I think we should investigate. Look, there is a ridge over there that we might get a good view from and not be seen." lacking anything else to do, save sit and wait for death, the others agreed and they tracked along the path with their heads down. Smilog cast his hood over the top of his helm and placed a hand on his axe haft while The Barrow Wight wrapped his torn cloak close about his person. Tollin alone seemed confident of, well, anything.

Within a few minuets of walking from the cemetery, they came to the ridge and lay on the floor. Smilog crawled to the edge and peered out. "What can you see?" asked Tollin.

"Terrible things," replied the Dwarf, "there are millions of them. Werewolves, orcs, trolls, were ducks and I think there are a few rhinoceroses." He bent his eyes to where he thought the blue flame had come from, then, holding out a hand to The Barrow Wight said, "pass me your spy glass, I want to see if the Blue Wizards are out there." The dead man obliged and Smilog fixed it to his eye.

He swooped across the terrible force, it's banners displaying the most awful symbols imaginable. Then, all of a sudden, he dropped the spy glass. "Oi!" cried The Barrow Wight, "do you know how much that cost?" The Dwarf scrambled off the ridge desperately.

"I think he saw me!" he cried,

"Who?" asked Tollin,

"Pallando!" said a voice from behind them. They turned to see the Wizard standing tall and menacing, his staff pointed towards them. He laughed and cocked his head, "did you really think you could spy on me? Well, what think you of my little... party?" he grinned.

"I've seen bigger." said Tollin

"No you havn't!" objected the wizard, turning to face the Minotaur, "I've researched middle Earth history, there has never been such a force! Now. I seem to remeber that Alatar was about to kill you, Dwarf, but he's a bit busy at the moment, so I'll do it!" He stepped closer, a blue light illuminating his staff and an evil grin covering his face. He took another step...

All of a sudden there was a cry from above and an orange blur flew out of the sky and landed on Pallando, knocking him over the ridge. the Orange wizard, 'Flash', stood before them, obviously at the end of some long song and dance routine.

"And that's why I'm so great! Woof!" he cried in an upbeat tempo. He threw back his head and laughed upon seeing Smilog and the others. "Well, paint me purple and call me Sharon, it's you, Beard man!"

[littlemanpoet]

"Thump."

It was soft and echoed. The narrative insisted it. One cannot disagree with the narrative. Elempí chose not to. He was too intent on going with the flow as long as the flow meant a happy Panakeia that he was what was left of Anakron.

Wolves howled in the distance. The not so distant distance.

Elempí took a turn, to the left. Which was for the worst. Because it faced the crypt. The swordsman led the way, which was just as well as far as Elempí was concerned. He tried to make sure that he was as close as he could be to Panakeia, preferably in front of her, or at least by her side. So it was with (only) mild chagrin that he found himself following her.

Wolves continued to howl in the distance. The not so distant distance. Quite near, actually.

The swordsman yelled. Another swordsman, or so Elempí assumed, for swordsmen were wont to yell in the midst of battle - and this sounded bloodcurdling and ferocious enough to be a battle cry.

But their cries didn't drown out the howling wolves in the distance. The not so distant distance. Quite near, actually. In fact, Elempí felt a very unwelcome tap on his shoulder. How did I end up behind everybody else? He turned, the hair on his neck rising, and looked at a very unpleasant maw that was opening wider.

"Lûgnût, don't yawn so close to me. Your breath stinks. And the wind of it raises the hair on my neck. What do you want, anyway?"

"Sorry. But I'm scared."

"Oh for cryin'-"

The wolves howled. The swordsman battlecried. But no swords clashed. Elempí began to wonder if they were just putting on a show of courage. At least it was free.