Land of Darkness RPG

[Kransha]

Brór Stormhand knew that sound, that horrible, incessant, unending clacking that beat with a furious rhythm, not sounding together but in multitudes like vile locust swarms buzzing about in the shadows above. It infuriated him even now that they lurked above and descended only to strike. Like goblins they were, dwelling in the shadows and waiting until the moment most opportune to dive and strike. This incensed Brór, and he knew that, if ever his time had come to fight, now was it. He did not heed the words spoken to him by any and chaos reigned soon after. The hurried party scattered, but stayed at least in some group. Some moved left, some right, some frontward, some backward, all every which way, but Brór knew where he would go. Dismissing his kin, Dorim and Dwali, he ran as fast as his legs took his through the band, towards the small, beastly spiders that alighted on the ground and hung just out of reach, tantalizing him to hit them with his blade and club. Nevertheless, he cleared the group, and dove into the mound of dark, pestilential monsters, seeking either their death or his.

He hacked and bashed, thwacked and smashed, and hammered away madly at the creatures as they tried in vain to swarm him. His inflated ego, which bloated more after each sickening sound that signaled the demise of one beast, told him he was doing well in battle, but it was his mind’s false hope and that alone. Three more went down, ground into the gasping dirt and damp rock by his cragged cudgel crushed and his swift ax sliced in twain or more. Their corpses on the earth seemed swallowed up by the oncoming hordes that moved steadily towards him, their fragile, stick-like legs pattering gently on the cave floor around as they rushed to get behind him, or to some vulnerable side. They would leap at him through the misty shroud of their webs, trying to bite and taint his blood with their putrid venom, but he was armed, and heavily armed at that, like a wall of rough-hewn stone he stood, statuary in the sea of arachnids. But, though he stood firm, he was almost lost. Through the writhing mass of spider flesh, he saw none of the other prisoners. He was sure that some, in their arrogance, had stayed behind, or moved there, to battle the cluster of monstrosities, but he could not make them out. The orcish armor he wore stabbed at him as much as the puncturing teeth and claws of the spiders did, galling him to wear it and darkening his sight.

He knew now, now more than ever he had known that he was lost. He brought the hefty ax down mightily, cleaving a final spider in two with a revolting sound, but his weapon seared as water to fire through the monster’s hide and was borne into the rock below, which grabbed onto it, latching its remnants of webbing onto the prongs of the ax and pulling it. As Bror attempted to unsheathe it from the earth in one swift motion, another spider took its moment to lunge, pouncing viciously on Brór’s stray hand. Through the rings of his male the beast’s darting fangs went, piercing his tough flesh beneath, but only for a moment. He drew his hand away, leaving the ax where it lay to be assimilated by the spiders, and clutched his hand as the tight armored gauntlet fixes upon it held in the blood, only causing him more pain. He tore at the metal glove to no avail, but abandoned that cause a moment later in favor of fighting his assailants, clubbing the next spider that leapt back towards his kin.

The dwarf, standing amidst the clacks of fangs and the hisses of beasts, heard only doom’s drum in his ears, covered by a heavy-handed helmet of the orcs. He could see nothing, save the spiders and the jutting rocks. Many hanging roofs of stone sat around, coated with webbing, a desirable hiding place, but he could not flee. He was surrounded, and his kinsmen, even if they desired to help him, could not reach him. Who, besides them, would bother risking life and limb for the dwarf? It didn’t matter now; Bror didn’t blame himself, though his sense did, as his heart was busy with its own agenda. He had wanted to die here, sooner or later, and, as he’d told his kin, hope was still its same illusion. To have good humor was a way to go about death that Bror had once excelled in, and would again. When the last spider drained the life fluid from his empty skull, his dead face would wear a defiant smile, though he could not muster the expression. He dashed, headlong, forward, and plowed into the fray renewed.

Suddenly, his dimmed eyesight caught in its cone the sight of a figure, a figure upright, though crouching, which lurked darkly beneath the canopy of stone nearby. He yearned to know who he saw, but he could not tell. It was no spider, for it had but two arms, clasped about itself. But, in a flash and an instant, in between the clicks and clacks of spiders wanting his death and ingestion, he recognized the figure. He looked just as he had the last time he and Brór had crossed paths. It was the darker elf, Morgoroth by name, though Bror did not know what he was called. The last time Bror had accosted that elf, he had been similarly crouched in the courtyard of the tower, looking as lonesome and desolate as now he did. With this realization came more dissolution. This elf, of all elves save the single female, who had nearly come to blows with him, was least likely to help him. He despaired again, but not for long. If the elf’s eyes were open as they seemed to be, they would see Brór’s glory and demise - or more, if that elf saw fit to take part. For now, Brór was content to die, not beneath the stars, but beneath the likeness of stars, the glittering eyes of his enemies…

[CaptainofDespair]

The carnage and immense reek brought about with each demise of the horrid, and disgusting, creatures at the hands of the bloodlust crazed dwarf, was outlandish. For the moment, they seemed to smell worse than their bite was, but that soon changed. The creatures swarmed about the lonely dwarf, who's only comrades had abandoned him, biting and stinging the armor and flesh of the poor, woe begotten defender.

The dwarf fought bravely, for all his insane lust for death. Yet, even for his great strength, the black devils brought their wrath unto him harshly, and he could not withstand it much more. He nearly collapsed under their weight, and deadly jaws. but he rose once more, and fought them yet again, driving them to the ground. His dwarven comrades still stood motionless, occasionally batting away the minions of Shelob who came forth to greet them.

From his dark alcove, the Elf watched this cycle for both the scuttling enemy, and his fellow freed prisoners. Then as the Elf turned to his thoughts, he saw the embattled dwarf fall to the ground, while clusters of the vile beasts poured over him, as if a flood gate had been released. His end seemed near, and as the Elf turned his head to look away from an imminent death, something stirred in his heart. He felt pity for the dwarf, and without hesitating, he rose from the relative safety of his hidden spot, with bow and short sword in hand. He leaped down from his vantage point, softly landing on the ground. He instantly drew his bow, and fired a salvo of arrows into the spidery mass that the dwarf encapsulated in. Three of the terrible beasts fell off immediately, curled into balls of dead matter, pierced with Haradrim-made arrows. With a swipe from his blade, another was dispatched, collapsing to the floor, spewing a rancid mixture of blackened blood, and a caustic gas. Morgoroth thrust his hand through the remaining creatures, who were now preparing to counter the Elf’s intrusion., and caught hold of the dwarf, and pulled him from the heap. “Come master dwarf, we should not tally here long.” With that, the Elf led the beleaguered and wounded dwarf back to his alcove, fending off counters from the spider menace, all the while taking the venomous bites and stings of his abhorred and sinister enemy, in defense of the dwarf.

The alcove offered not only safety, but a place of which to rest peacefully. The spiders for some odd reason, would not climb the wall, as if they could not. Perhaps they had not fully developed themselves, or found no need to, and it was simply faded out of their gene pool. But whatever the case, the two were safe. Morgoroth laid the dwarf down in a small niche, to better protect the wounded fighter. “Stay yourself here master dwarf, you are safe now.” Without saying another word, the Elf moved in a crouched position towards the edge of the wall, and peered out into the crawling, writhing black abyss that was the spider horde. And the others were still yet surrounded and outmatched.

[alaklondewen]

Lyshka spun slowly around, taking in the horrific scene. Now that the crazed dwarf had been removed from the immediate danger, the terrible creatures turned their full attention to those still left standing in the center of the room. Thousands of sparkling eyes looked over them, while anxious fangs dripped with poison at the promise of a sweet meal.

Stepping backward, Lyshka hoped to have her back covered by one of the other prisoners, but as she moved, her hair was lifted and she felt something sharp graze her scalp. The Easterling snapped her head around. Her gaze met the belly of one of the beasts, and she cried out in surprise. At the same time, she swung her arm and threw the creature across the room. It landed out of the light’s reach, but she imagined she heard a thump against the far wall.

Fear gripped the woman. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her breath was shallow. Using her Orc blade, she stabbed another spider that came too close to her feet. It’s black blood oozed like the growing shadows in the darkness, and the stinch that rose caused Lyshka to cover her face with her knifeless hand as she coughed the fumes from her lungs.

[Durelin]

Jordo had been frozen in a horror that he had not known since his escape from his cell in Mordor, from his cage. If his mind was not so filled with fear it would have realized that he had finally acknowledged his finding freedom an 'escape'. Not that his mind would understand that this was an improvement to his soul. With peace of mind, his thoughts would insist that it marred his soul, while his soul would listen with interest. But his mind was not at peace, and his soul was finding its old tarnishing torment. He could not find a scream in his throat to let out the fear that roiled and writhed inside.

The snake in his gut even spoke to him. Sometimes it whispered, other times it screamed, and he obeyed. If he obeyed it, it would leave him alone. If he obeyed it, he would feel no pain. One word was all that he needed to hear. The word would be one of wisest counsel, and would free him of those many eyes and many legs. The snake had no legs, and Jordo didn’t think it had eyes either. It didn’t need to move, to run, when Jordo could run for it. And he did, as it whispered frantically in his ear: Run! Fast, my friend…no time, my friend… Run, catch up with mamma!

Jordo ran to the nearest shadows, for once finding them a haven. His eyes darted, but he saw nothing. He heard screams and the grotesque clacking of what his eyes had seen to be a mouth. A set of crushing jaws that waited to bring from him his own screams of pain. It was the voices of those in fear and agony that twisted his soul into the snake, and it continued to slither in his stomach. His ears strained to hear what went on in the dark around him, though he fought to shut it all out of his head. Once it was in his head, he would not hear anything else.

He kept moving for some time, racing through shadows, feeling alone while still feeling that he was being watched. As the darkness rushed by him, he felt as if it was closing in behind him, folding in on itself, swallowing up anything that was not already of the dark. It was almost as if he could feel a rush of air each time the darkness folded like snapping jaws, trying to catch Jordo from behind. Thinking of jaws, his legs strained to move faster. But soon he gave in, as he knew he would never outrun the shadows. And she he curled up in them, still and quiet, and finding some sort of peace.

He stood there for a moment, listening to his breathing, focusing on it. The focus should of course always be on himself; long had he been concerned for his well-being, concerned enough to forget others, especially since the death of his mother. He heard not the noises of approaching people in fear, each one rushing to escape his or her own death. And Jordo forgot that his own death was chasing him, as the shadows had caught up with him. He suddenly felt a something large hit him, and he was on the floor, unable to get up for the people that ran over him and around him.

He curled up into a ball, and squeezed his eyes tight, hoping for the darkness to protect him once more. Jordo tried not to be in the way. Why was he always in someone's way? No one liked having someone in their way. They would punish him for being where they did not want him to be. And he felt pain, as he was kicked and stepped on, and finally a large booted foot hit him in the forehead. Soon the pain was lost in the darkness.

[The Perky Ent]

"This is it!" Dorim said under his breath. He knew, it would either be him, or them. Right now, he didn't care either. Taking his ax, Dorim took a deep breath and plunged into the vat of spiders. As one by one, spiders crept up on him, his ax dropped down on them, swiping spiders left and right. It was as hard keeping them off as it was keeping liquid off you under water. Constantly, they'd jump and land on Dorim, giving him a mere moment to get them off.

Finally, after about five minutes of fighting, an abnormally large spider jumped on Dorim's head and took him down. As hard as he tried, the spider wouldn't come off. It seemed it would kill him. Warding off other spiders, he couldnt' take the one on his head off. "You infernal creature!" Dorim said, as two spiders jumped on his stomach. Screaming, Dorim used all his power to knock them off. In a moment, the others saw several spiders fly very high into the air and come back down.

The rage inside Dorim was so powerful, that spiders slowed down as they approached. Dorim would not go down easy.

[Himaran]

The battle raged all around, bodies and weapons entwined with spiders and crawling legs. Grash's company put their scavanged weapons work in quick order, hacking their way through the mass of attacking arachnids. The beasts were like nothing Dwali had ever seen -- far larger than a common member of their species but much smaller than the projected size of Shelob... if that was truely her name. Perhaps the stories are all wrong... there is no Shelob, just these fat horrors. It was all a rumor, fabricated by the orcs over time. The dwarf continued to muse, fighting through the crowds of snapping predators and keeping near Dorim. His confidence grew as enemies fell all around him, and the walls began to clear.

Huge spiders, hah! Children's tales, orc legends, it makes no difference. Shelob is but a -- "YAI!" The Dwarf's mental rant ended with a vocal scream, as two of the spiders fell off the ceiling and landed on his face. Without the use of his eyes, Dwali was virtually helpless... and so he ran. Straight through the unseen swarm, groping at his covered features. He was able to pull one off and smash the other with a fist before realizing that he had dropped his weapon, and was on the same token surrounded. The axe, almost invisible in the dimly lit cavern, was over twenty yards behind him. More importantly, however, the spiders were closing in; and the dwarf had nothing with which to defend himself.

Then Dorim was there, tossing Dwali a small axe and charging into the horde of opponents. The pair ripped through them, scattered the dead to both sides. After reaching Dwali's axe, they turned to look for Bror, but he was nowhere in sight. "We'd best hold here until he shows up," suggested the younger dwarf, axe swinging in a furious patern. His companion agreed, and they continued to fend off the spiders before them. Where are you now Shelob, Dwali thought in a taunting voice. Is this the terror of the passage?

[Amanaduial the archer]

Raeis blinked in surprise as one of the Men leapt in front of her and, rather than attack her as she had expected from the hostile behaviour and harsh looks she had recieved since their escape from all of the men, he slashed viciously behind her. The elf ducked to one side as he did so...and heard a strange sort of miniature scream as a beast that had been lurking behind her fell dead, sliced in two. She looked up at the Man and, despite herself, she smiled at him, words not coming fast enough. A strange, bright light came into his green eyes as she did this and he flashed her a bright white grin back before turning and launching himself with a fierce energy at anything that came near them.

Why the Man had done that, Raeis didn't know, and for a moment, she stared dumbfounded at his back where he stood in front of her. Kindness had become something rather rare for the elf - a memory, an enigma which she had come to regard with suspicion. What was his motive? But still, he kept going - and in his position and his vigilance against the beasts which assailed them, he was effectively protecting Raeis as well. She allowed herself another smile, a quiet one, all to herself, then turned so that her left side was facing towards the man and her back to the cave wall beside her - a gesture of trust, for she since an 'interrogation' procedure in which the orcs had pressed the blade of a heated sword against her face, she could no longer see out of her left eye, save occasional, half-glimpses in black and white, seeming to work independantly from her right eye. As she began to fight against the beasts, using both her sword blade and the butt of her sword to fight them away from herself and the Man, she saw him glance at her, an expression of shock flitting across his open features. She didn't return his gaze, keeping her eyes on the foes.

Although she fought like a wildcat, her sinewy body moving fast and agily, using sword, hands, and even feet to counter the black spiders, and beside her the Man did the same, Raeis could feel herself being moved backwards. They were trying to stop her, to oppress her again. Push her back and make her feel small? The elf felt anger rise anew in her and she gave a fierce yell, throwing herself right into the fray. She heard the Man who she had fought beside cry out in surprise but paid no attention: the spiders were all around her now, and she had unsheathed the other knife she had kept, wielding it in her left hand. It wasn't as accurate, but what did that matter - they were all around now, no matter where she struck, she would hit something. Whipping out both arms viciously, the elf sliced through the fray in a sweeping arc across her whole body, teeth gritted fiercely and head thrown back, seeming to emit some power from inside like the warriors of Old. The spiders seemed to recoil from her touch, the touch of one so clean, full of the light of Eru, but only for a moment - they had advantages in numbers against the elf.

Nothing would have stopped her until she went right down, so completely in her element as she was, until her bare foot stubbed against something soft and warm and she stumbled backwards. The spiders swarmed forwards over her and she cried out in anger as the writhing black mass flowed over herself...and Jordo, the man-child who had attached himself to her. Once again, a fierce protective instinct hit her and she threw the spiders off her, dragging Jordo behind her with adrenaline-fuelled strength and she threw herself into one of the alcoves, behind the fray, hidden by a pile of rubble.

In the momentary respite, she propped Jordo against their impromtu barricade and looked him over, noting his breathing was infrequent and irregular, and the freely bleeding gash above his forehead. She shook him fiercely and he emitted a quiet whimper, but still she shook him again, panic-stricken. He will not die here - none of us will die here. We have escaped our captors - no monster's lair will finish us now! The vehement thought caused her to shake him again, slapping the side of his face until finally his eyes flickered open unsteadily. Raeis smiled down at him in relief - unaware of the huge, dark, many-legged shape that had begun to loom over her, it's shadow moving towards her and the other escapees...