The Lingering Darkness Planning/Discussion Thread - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Nerindel · 07-02-2004, 05:13 PM

Quote:

So - will all this start this coming Monday?

it sure will and again many thanks Pio!

Ealasaide · 07-05-2004, 02:36 PM

I've been thinking it over and decided I have been neglecting our Naiore. With that in mind, I have contructed a pair of back posts for Naiore. The first I have already inserted into the RPG thread at the end of my post #256, dated 6-1-04.

The second one I place here in the hopes that Pio can insert it into the RPG thread for me between Hilde's post #262 and Nerindel's post #263. (Please?!?)

Here's the post:

Naiore

As the day stretched on and activity decreased steadily in the vicinity of the back gardens, Naiore let herself sleep, awaking once at a hint of motion over by the corner of one of the buildings. Casting her senses in that direction, she thought she caught the impression of anger... a disturbed mind. Elven?

"Menecin!" she hissed, her back straightening against the rough bark of the tree trunk. "Has my Vanwe delivered you to me at last?" She leveled a piercing gaze in the direction of the perceived motion, but saw nothing further, only the pale green of leaves swaying in the afternoon breeze. The slender figure of Vanwe, leading her dark-haired and tragic father to his doom never appeared. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, Naiore felt a flush of rage and disappointment. Realizing that Vanwe was not yet fulfilling her purpose, the Ravenner pushed the flood of emotions away and settled back into waiting. Awake now, she reached out again in search of Vanwe and Menecin. Though she still felt the vague presence of the Bard's consciousness, his madness, she found she could not determine from whence it came. Her clear grey eyes studied the trees, the shadows, the corners of every wall.

Her vigilance continued through the afternoon and into the night as daylight waned and faded into darkness. She waited until the moon rose and, then, with the shadows gathered around her like a shroud, Naiore unwound her long legs and slid down from her hiding place. A restlessness had taken hold of her that was rooted in the continuous feeling she had that Menecin was somewhere nearby. Almost unconsciously, she listened for the sound of his singing, the melliflous tones of his flute. Only silence found her. And then the sound of voices. Two men approached, leading a dirty and illkempt-looking horse along the path that led from the stable to the stream. Instantly, she recognized one of the men as Avanill, the other as a ranger from the Forsaken Inn. Moving like a shadow herself, Naiore trailed them to the stream, taking a few seconds along the way to retrieve her bow and a small clutch of arrows from where she had hidden them earlier, selecting only orcish arrows from amongst the Elven ones. The elves must think her deed the work of a stray orc.

Unaware that she watched them, the two men chatted amiably as the ranger gave his horse a bath in the moonlit stream. Naiore knocked an arrow to the string and raised her bow. The traitorous Avanill, obviously not a prisoner but a willing co-conspirator of her pursuers, would have to die. Though she would have preferred to look into his arrogant eyes and squeeze the life out of him with her silken garrotte, an arrow would do the job. She smiled serenely as she sighted along the shaft of the arrow to his heart. The ranger would have to die, too, his presence an inconvenience, but not an unhappy one. It always pleased her to release a ranger from his mortal condition. Besides, it would not do to have him running about, raising an alarm. Left in the woods, it could be days before the bodies were found. By then, she would be long departed into the west or the south, her objectives accomplished.

But the arrow never left Naiore's bow. Someone else had joined the two men at the stream. Unable to see the newcomer, Naiore froze, straining her ears into the darkness, but the rush of the stream concealed the words. Though she could not make out what was said, the voice sounded Elven. Lowering her bow, Naiore crept closer, reaching out with her senses. Suddenly she stopped short as her mind came into contact with a familiar consciousness. A rush of jumbled emotions - anger, love, and madness - collided with her thoughts. Forgetting Avanill, she melted back into the shadows, her inky leathers blending with the surrounding darkness. Menecin!

She was unable to see him, but she knew with a cold certainty that the newcomer was Menecin. A smile again touched her lips. Perhaps she could achieve her goal without the help of Vanwe. She would wait for the Bard to emerge from the trees with his companions, then she would strike him down and be on her way. Pity it would have to be an orcish arrow to fell her former lover and the father of her child, but she had not the time to retrieve an arrow of Elven make. That he would be destroyed would have to be enough for her.

Patiently, Naiore waited, but when Avanill and the ranger finally finished their business at the stream and departed back toward the safety of the buildings, the Bard was not with them. Her attention now focused on the unseen elf, Naiore let them go and reached out again into the darkness with her mind, but the presence she had sensed earlier was gone. He had slipped away amongst the trees. Naiore hesitated, debating with herself whether to pursue him now or to wait. Cautiously, she glided in the direction in which she had heard his voice. Getting there, she found nothing, only the careless tracks of the men and their horse. Frustrated, she followed the stream bank for a short distance before turning back. Menecin had been a warrior at one time and, at that time, had been possessed of strong skills of woodcraft and concealment. Tracking him by moonlight when he did not wish to be found would be an exercise in futility, even for her. Perhaps she would wait for Vanwe to fulfill her task after all. Perhaps the time for Naiore to wreak her revenge had not yet come.

piosenniel · 07-05-2004, 02:37 PM

Just keeping tabs here:

#265, 266,267, 268 sent to Nerindel

If you need to communicate with Nerindel - please email her, don't leave the message here on the Discussion thread.

If you don't have her email addy, PM me for it.

Thanks!

Pio

Ealasaide · 07-05-2004, 07:41 PM

Pio - I was wondering if you happened to catch my post at the bottom of the previous page. I wrote two back posts for Naiore. One of them I placed myself at the end of my post #256 (June 1).

The second post, I placed here on the discussion thread in the hopes that you might place it for me between Hilde's post #262 and Nerindel's #263.

Also, could you please transfer both to their proper places on the Fan-Fic page? Please! Please!

(Sorry to complicate things so...)

piosenniel · 07-06-2004, 01:55 AM

All Done! Here and there . . .

Ealasaide · 07-06-2004, 06:27 AM

Many Thanks!

piosenniel · 07-06-2004, 10:43 AM

Nerindel - Vanwe:

added to #264

Hilde Bracegirdle · 07-09-2004, 05:59 AM

Everdawn & Nerindel - I have mentioned in Rauthain's post that he left Avanill with the rangers, seeing as I couldn't see Amandur letting him slip off to enquire about Vanwe!

So I guess that Avanill is on is own right now, somehow disengaging himself from the company of the rangers. Once a loner, always a loner I guess!

Everdawn - He wouldn't be backsliding now would he?!

07-05-2004, 02:37 PM	#3
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Just keeping tabs here: #265, 266,267, 268 sent to Nerindel If you need to communicate with Nerindel - please email her, don't leave the message here on the Discussion thread. If you don't have her email addy, PM me for it. Thanks! Pio __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside. Last edited by piosenniel; 07-15-2004 at 10:23 AM.

07-06-2004, 01:55 AM	#5
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Posts inserted . . . All Done! Here and there . . . __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

07-06-2004, 10:43 AM	#7
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Nerindel - Vanwe: added to #264 __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

07-05-2004, 02:36 PM	#2
Ealasaide Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: The Fencing Lyst Posts: 810	I've been thinking it over and decided I have been neglecting our Naiore. With that in mind, I have contructed a pair of back posts for Naiore. The first I have already inserted into the RPG thread at the end of my post #256, dated 6-1-04. The second one I place here in the hopes that Pio can insert it into the RPG thread for me between Hilde's post #262 and Nerindel's post #263. (Please?!?) Here's the post: Naiore As the day stretched on and activity decreased steadily in the vicinity of the back gardens, Naiore let herself sleep, awaking once at a hint of motion over by the corner of one of the buildings. Casting her senses in that direction, she thought she caught the impression of anger... a disturbed mind. Elven? "Menecin!" she hissed, her back straightening against the rough bark of the tree trunk. "Has my Vanwe delivered you to me at last?" She leveled a piercing gaze in the direction of the perceived motion, but saw nothing further, only the pale green of leaves swaying in the afternoon breeze. The slender figure of Vanwe, leading her dark-haired and tragic father to his doom never appeared. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, Naiore felt a flush of rage and disappointment. Realizing that Vanwe was not yet fulfilling her purpose, the Ravenner pushed the flood of emotions away and settled back into waiting. Awake now, she reached out again in search of Vanwe and Menecin. Though she still felt the vague presence of the Bard's consciousness, his madness, she found she could not determine from whence it came. Her clear grey eyes studied the trees, the shadows, the corners of every wall. Her vigilance continued through the afternoon and into the night as daylight waned and faded into darkness. She waited until the moon rose and, then, with the shadows gathered around her like a shroud, Naiore unwound her long legs and slid down from her hiding place. A restlessness had taken hold of her that was rooted in the continuous feeling she had that Menecin was somewhere nearby. Almost unconsciously, she listened for the sound of his singing, the melliflous tones of his flute. Only silence found her. And then the sound of voices. Two men approached, leading a dirty and illkempt-looking horse along the path that led from the stable to the stream. Instantly, she recognized one of the men as Avanill, the other as a ranger from the Forsaken Inn. Moving like a shadow herself, Naiore trailed them to the stream, taking a few seconds along the way to retrieve her bow and a small clutch of arrows from where she had hidden them earlier, selecting only orcish arrows from amongst the Elven ones. The elves must think her deed the work of a stray orc. Unaware that she watched them, the two men chatted amiably as the ranger gave his horse a bath in the moonlit stream. Naiore knocked an arrow to the string and raised her bow. The traitorous Avanill, obviously not a prisoner but a willing co-conspirator of her pursuers, would have to die. Though she would have preferred to look into his arrogant eyes and squeeze the life out of him with her silken garrotte, an arrow would do the job. She smiled serenely as she sighted along the shaft of the arrow to his heart. The ranger would have to die, too, his presence an inconvenience, but not an unhappy one. It always pleased her to release a ranger from his mortal condition. Besides, it would not do to have him running about, raising an alarm. Left in the woods, it could be days before the bodies were found. By then, she would be long departed into the west or the south, her objectives accomplished. But the arrow never left Naiore's bow. Someone else had joined the two men at the stream. Unable to see the newcomer, Naiore froze, straining her ears into the darkness, but the rush of the stream concealed the words. Though she could not make out what was said, the voice sounded Elven. Lowering her bow, Naiore crept closer, reaching out with her senses. Suddenly she stopped short as her mind came into contact with a familiar consciousness. A rush of jumbled emotions - anger, love, and madness - collided with her thoughts. Forgetting Avanill, she melted back into the shadows, her inky leathers blending with the surrounding darkness. Menecin! She was unable to see him, but she knew with a cold certainty that the newcomer was Menecin. A smile again touched her lips. Perhaps she could achieve her goal without the help of Vanwe. She would wait for the Bard to emerge from the trees with his companions, then she would strike him down and be on her way. Pity it would have to be an orcish arrow to fell her former lover and the father of her child, but she had not the time to retrieve an arrow of Elven make. That he would be destroyed would have to be enough for her. Patiently, Naiore waited, but when Avanill and the ranger finally finished their business at the stream and departed back toward the safety of the buildings, the Bard was not with them. Her attention now focused on the unseen elf, Naiore let them go and reached out again into the darkness with her mind, but the presence she had sensed earlier was gone. He had slipped away amongst the trees. Naiore hesitated, debating with herself whether to pursue him now or to wait. Cautiously, she glided in the direction in which she had heard his voice. Getting there, she found nothing, only the careless tracks of the men and their horse. Frustrated, she followed the stream bank for a short distance before turning back. Menecin had been a warrior at one time and, at that time, had been possessed of strong skills of woodcraft and concealment. Tracking him by moonlight when he did not wish to be found would be an exercise in futility, even for her. Perhaps she would wait for Vanwe to fulfill her task after all. Perhaps the time for Naiore to wreak her revenge had not yet come.

07-05-2004, 07:41 PM	#4
Ealasaide Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: The Fencing Lyst Posts: 810	Pio - I was wondering if you happened to catch my post at the bottom of the previous page. I wrote two back posts for Naiore. One of them I placed myself at the end of my post #256 (June 1). The second post, I placed here on the discussion thread in the hopes that you might place it for me between Hilde's post #262 and Nerindel's #263. Also, could you please transfer both to their proper places on the Fan-Fic page? Please! Please! (Sorry to complicate things so...)

07-06-2004, 06:27 AM	#6
Ealasaide Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: The Fencing Lyst Posts: 810	Many Thanks!

07-09-2004, 05:59 AM	#8
Hilde Bracegirdle Relic of Wandering Days Join Date: Dec 2002 Location: You'll See Perpetual Change. Posts: 1,480	Everdawn & Nerindel - I have mentioned in Rauthain's post that he left Avanill with the rangers, seeing as I couldn't see Amandur letting him slip off to enquire about Vanwe! So I guess that Avanill is on is own right now, somehow disengaging himself from the company of the rangers. Once a loner, always a loner I guess! Everdawn - He wouldn't be backsliding now would he?!