Prisoner of Númenor Planning/Discussion Thread - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Himaran · 12-08-2005, 08:59 AM

Pio: can you please place this post above Post #106 in the game thread? Thanks!

- Himaran

POST PLACED ~*~ Pio

STARTPOST_______________________________________

It was terrifying.

The island was tearing itself apart. The earth shifted and bucked underneath Kali's legs as the steed gallaped away from Armenelos with Abarzadan clinging to his mane. Trees were hurled from the ground as their very roots were disloged from the rocky turf. Newly formed gysers burst open and streams of water shot upward into the air. The wind had increased to a violent speed, throwing leaves, branches and small stones all about. And everywhere, water was rising. The earth itself had become almost sponge-like, completely saturated. Streams had become ponds, and ponds had turned into lakes. There was no longer a path; Kali was running on pure instinct, and the man could do nothing but hold on and hope. A tree crashed to the ground ten paces from them, but the horse was ready and leaped over it, never breaking stride. A branch broke of a nearby tree and slammed into Abarzadan's head, but through sheer force of will he kept his balance. Heavy rain added to his misery, pelting the sizable wound. Blood mixed with water trickled down his forhead, imparing his vision. The man was utterly helpless, at the mercy of his mount and the elements.

Then an arrow whistled by his head, thudding into a nearby tree. Wipping his face, Abarzadan strained his neck around and could make out the shapes of several riders trailing him. They must have been following him since he and Kali hurtled through the city's east gate, although at the time it had appeared that their escape had been complete. The man grimaced. He had no weapons, was wounded, and had no idea how far away the shore was, or if the Faithful were even still there. He would have to use the only tool available to him: his horse. Taking a firmer grip, he directly Kali to he the right, dodging trees, boulders and other unexpected obstacles. He waited until they were over the next rise, took a backward glance, wispered an elvish phrase into the steed's ear, and dove off of his mount. On all fours, he crawled behinds a bush and waited. Kali's hoofbeats disappeared in the distance. By the sounds, their were four riders, and three of them continued onward. One, however, slowed, stopped, and turned around.

Abarzadan waited, holding his breath.

The rider's horse sniffed and whinnied, and its master said something to it in reply. Heavy steps came closer, stopping in front of the large bush. A string tightened. The man winced in dreaded anticipation. The string twanged, and an arrow burried itself in the ground and inch from his leg. Apparently satisfied, the soldier turned his horse away and trotted in the opposite direction. This, however, was not an opportunity Abarzadan was going to miss. He rolled out from behind the bush, dashed toward his unexpecting opponent, and dove towards him. The two collided and collapsed off of the horse. Brandishing the arrow he had plucked from the turf, the last remaining member of the House of Batanzaira plunged it into the neck of the stunned Numenorean. Snatching his bow and quiver, Abarzadan climbed onto the obediant horse. The pair raced away from the scene, heading in the direction Kali and the others had taken.

~*~

It was not long before they were located. Abarzadan slowed his mount and hopped off, readying his bow. Ahead, three men and four horses were gathered, one of which was being admired by its new masters. Kali stopped! The realization struck him with horror. What if he missed, and hit Kali instead? He need a diverstion. Turning to his waiting horse, he gave it a little shove in their direction and barked an order. Snorting, it trotted away from him and towards the others. Abarzadan circled around to a better angle, moving from tree to tree. The ground squished and his boots filled with water, but he kept moving. In the clearing, the three men turned away from Kali and looked the other horse over. Time was running out.

The man took careful aim, exhaled, and sent a shaft whistling towards his targets, and it hit one in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Now Abarzadan was running, notching another arrow. He released it in full stride, watching with satisfaction as it came to rest in the head of the second enemy. Now too close for ranged combat, he dropped the bow and pulled the quiver off of his back, swinging it by the strap. The final soldier backed away, sword at ready. The pair circled one another, with Abarzadan keeping the quiver spinning at full speed. "So it has come to this, my friend," shouted Abarzadan over the rushing wind. "Numenoreans killing each other over a senseless disagreement."

The other merely grimaced. "You are a heretic, like all the others. You should have died at the temple with the rest." Kali punctuated his statement, drilling the unsuspecting man to the ground with a swift kick from his front hooves. Abarzadan chuckled. "A pity you couldn't be back at Armenelos. I am certain that the sight of your great temple crumbling to the ground would be an unforgettable one." Leaving the stunned soldier to decide his own fate, the man tossed the quiver away and climbed onto Kali's waiting back. As they got further from the center of the island, the storm gradually melted away, but the man knew it would not be long before the entire landmass would share the same fate. Suddenly, the pair burst from the forest. They were on a grassy hill looking down on the coast. The man whooped with joy, for the ships of the Faithful were still ancored in the bay.

_______________ENDPOST

Regin Hardhammer · 12-10-2005, 09:29 PM

Despite my finals looming in the horizon (next week), or perhaps because of them, I have finally find time to fill in my long overdue save. At the end of the post the ships are getting ready to sail, but have not actually sailed yet. I assume that this is the state that we are in at the moment. If not, please tell me, and I will edit my post. If there is anything else that needs to be fixed please don't hesitate to ask. I got a little carried away. It has been a true pleasure working on a game with such a talented group of writers. Thank you all.

- Regin

piosenniel · 12-15-2005, 12:33 PM

Just checking in --

and wondering, what posts are left to be written for the game? Are most of the final posts in now? Will someone be doing a wrap-up?

~*~ Pio

Feanor of the Peredhil · 12-15-2005, 12:47 PM

*looks guilty*

I'm still [attempting to be] working on Kath's death. It's harder than I ever expected and I half want to write in a miracle where suddenly she's all better, the end.

piosenniel · 12-15-2005, 01:10 PM

. . . where's movie Arwen and her Grace-of-the Valar transfer when you need her!

Feanor of the Peredhil · 12-15-2005, 01:32 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by piosenniel

. . . where's movie Arwen and her Grace-of-the Valar transfer when you need her!

You've actually just given me a decent idea for ATM. However it still leaves me in a rut for PoN.

Feanor of the Peredhil · 12-17-2005, 06:34 PM

Hey Pio, can you post this up? Sorry to be so concise but my parents decided against having the internet at my house so I have zilch access unless I'm away from home (which I currently am) for my entire bleedin' break. I'll be back on regularly after the second weekend of January. LMP's going to take over what's left of the Kath situation. Thanks for everybody's understanding and helpfulness.

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

POSTED TO THE GAME ~*~ Pio

Feanor of the Peredhil's post

Images raced through her mind chaotically: lightening struck a tree and it burst into flame; black sky; crows perched in wait on dead branches as the party road swiftly from Armenelos; freezing rain tearing through softly churned mud, and hoofbeats sounding as a voice cried to the Valar for mercy.

Torn from dream, Kathaani responded hesitantly, first trying and failing to move. Grimacing against her frozen numbness, Kathaani shifted her head slightly and opened her eyes: Lothlome knelt weeping on the cold wooden floor. Mabalar stood, unreachable in his grief, with arms raised to the heavens. Kathaani choked back a sob. Once again, her father's voice had called to her through the mists of pain, chasing away the weakness that threatened to over-power her. She longed to be a child again... to hear his assurances and to truly believe that in a short while, everything would be fine. Kathaani took a breath and was dismayed to feel her lungs expand but a little, and that with effort. She marveled: she could no longer feel her wound... only the tightly bound bandaging keeping the blood where it belonged. Where had the pain gone? It had been excruciating... all of her consciousness was tied to it and now it was gone, replaced by nothingness... not warmth or cold; no memory of feeling. Simple existence. Had she not remembered so vividly... had she not felt the tightness of the bound cotton... she would have thought it all a dream. She took another small breath, feeling the bindings expand.... no... she thought... it was not the bandages that compromised her breathing. She swallowed nervously, trying once more. Her body shook slightly with the effort of inhaling. It felt as the the air did not reach further than her breastbone, lodging there and denying Kathaani the simple relief of full lungs. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut against what she guessed was happening.

"Mama... papa...?" she spoke hesitantly. Her voice was faint, not at all reminiscent of the strong tones she had so often adopted. The words were aspirated, a full breath necessary for each. She set her jaw stubbornly against the tears that strayed but a short distance from her eyes.

Mabalar and Lothlome started and looked to their daughter, frightened to hope, fearful not to. She smiled slightly for a brief moment before closing her eyes to concentrate on breathing freely. Softly... softly... she spoke to herself silently; promising that what she could foresee would not come to pass. She could feel it deep within her chest... she wanted to vomit at the horror of the sensation but sheer will now kept her in place. She felt her hands enveloped by those of her parents. I can not... I will not...

"Papa..." she began. She choked, chest convulsing slightly. Her father swept her into his arms and she heaved several times, each time denying her broken body its will. Exhausted, Kathaani sank against her father limply, holding her breath against the cough that lay in wait.

"Just breathe, my sweet... take your time and breathe..." murmured Lothlome as she smoothed a stray lock away from Kathaani's face. Mabalar still held her close, much as he had all those years before when his crying little girl required strong arms to hold her and let her feel safe and a soothing voice to calm her. Breathing shakily, she turned slightly to better fit against the contours of his arms, laying her head against his chest.

Mabalar kissed Kathaani's hair, murmuring to her. "Inzi's safe, my dove, they're all safe. You did it."

She looked up at his face, cherishing the warmth of her mother’s hands as they held hers, softly rubbing them with her thumbs. She began to cry, shaking her head. "No..." she whispered, "it wasn't me... none of it... it wasn't me."

"Of course it was my darling." he whispered to her. "You initiated the mission... yes, shh..." he held her closer as Lothlome sat beside them. She wiped away her daughter's tears with gentle hands as he continued. "Yes... they told me everything, love. It was you who told them of my capture. It was you who rode to rescue me. It was you who were imprisoned on my behalf. And it was you who escaped."

Kathaani wept more softly now. "But papa... I didn't... they were safer without me..."

Lothlome spoke now. "My Cerveth.... my love, do you underestimate me? Would I have sent you if I thought you were a danger to the mission? My love… it was so important that you ride to save your father… and look before you… you did."

Tears now came to Lothlome as well and her voice cracked into silence. Kathaani coughed violently now, spitting up blood. Mabalar held her close as Lothlome calmly wiped away the mess.

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

EDIT

Fea --

Relax, enjoy your internetless state!

*Hello . . . my name is Piosenniel . . . and I'm an BD RPG addict. It's been several minutes since I last clicked through the Shire offerings . . .

12-10-2005, 09:29 PM	#2
Regin Hardhammer Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Feb 2004 Location: Tumunzahar/Nogrod Posts: 364	Despite my finals looming in the horizon (next week), or perhaps because of them, I have finally find time to fill in my long overdue save. At the end of the post the ships are getting ready to sail, but have not actually sailed yet. I assume that this is the state that we are in at the moment. If not, please tell me, and I will edit my post. If there is anything else that needs to be fixed please don't hesitate to ask. I got a little carried away. It has been a true pleasure working on a game with such a talented group of writers. Thank you all. - Regin __________________ For once I myself saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a bottle, and when the boys said to her: 'Sibyl, what do you want?' she replied, 'I want to die.'"

12-15-2005, 12:33 PM	#3
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Just checking in -- and wondering, what posts are left to be written for the game? Are most of the final posts in now? Will someone be doing a wrap-up? ~*~ 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.

12-15-2005, 12:47 PM	#4
Feanor of the Peredhil La Belle Dame sans Merci Join Date: Feb 2003 Location: perpetual uncertainty Posts: 5,517	looks guilty I'm still [attempting to be] working on Kath's death. It's harder than I ever expected and I half want to write in a miracle where suddenly she's all better, the end. __________________ peace

12-15-2005, 01:10 PM	#5
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	. . . where's movie Arwen and her Grace-of-the Valar transfer when you need her! __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

12-17-2005, 06:34 PM	#7
Feanor of the Peredhil La Belle Dame sans Merci Join Date: Feb 2003 Location: perpetual uncertainty Posts: 5,517	Hey Pio, can you post this up? Sorry to be so concise but my parents decided against having the internet at my house so I have zilch access unless I'm away from home (which I currently am) for my entire bleedin' break. I'll be back on regularly after the second weekend of January. LMP's going to take over what's left of the Kath situation. Thanks for everybody's understanding and helpfulness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *POSTED TO THE GAME ~~ Pio Feanor of the Peredhil's post Images raced through her mind chaotically: lightening struck a tree and it burst into flame; black sky; crows perched in wait on dead branches as the party road swiftly from Armenelos; freezing rain tearing through softly churned mud, and hoofbeats sounding as a voice cried to the Valar for mercy. Torn from dream, Kathaani responded hesitantly, first trying and failing to move. Grimacing against her frozen numbness, Kathaani shifted her head slightly and opened her eyes: Lothlome knelt weeping on the cold wooden floor. Mabalar stood, unreachable in his grief, with arms raised to the heavens. Kathaani choked back a sob. Once again, her father's voice had called to her through the mists of pain, chasing away the weakness that threatened to over-power her. She longed to be a child again... to hear his assurances and to truly believe that in a short while, everything would be fine. Kathaani took a breath and was dismayed to feel her lungs expand but a little, and that with effort. She marveled: she could no longer feel her wound... only the tightly bound bandaging keeping the blood where it belonged. Where had the pain gone? It had been excruciating... all of her consciousness was tied to it and now it was gone, replaced by nothingness... not warmth or cold; no memory of feeling. Simple existence. Had she not remembered so vividly... had she not felt the tightness of the bound cotton... she would have thought it all a dream. She took another small breath, feeling the bindings expand.... no... she thought... it was not the bandages that compromised her breathing. She swallowed nervously, trying once more. Her body shook slightly with the effort of inhaling. It felt as the the air did not reach further than her breastbone, lodging there and denying Kathaani the simple relief of full lungs. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut against what she guessed was happening. "Mama... papa...?" she spoke hesitantly. Her voice was faint, not at all reminiscent of the strong tones she had so often adopted. The words were aspirated, a full breath necessary for each. She set her jaw stubbornly against the tears that strayed but a short distance from her eyes. Mabalar and Lothlome started and looked to their daughter, frightened to hope, fearful not to. She smiled slightly for a brief moment before closing her eyes to concentrate on breathing freely. Softly... softly... she spoke to herself silently; promising that what she could foresee would not come to pass. She could feel it deep within her chest... she wanted to vomit at the horror of the sensation but sheer will now kept her in place. She felt her hands enveloped by those of her parents. I can not... I will not... "Papa..." she began. She choked, chest convulsing slightly. Her father swept her into his arms and she heaved several times, each time denying her broken body its will. Exhausted, Kathaani sank against her father limply, holding her breath against the cough that lay in wait. "Just breathe, my sweet... take your time and breathe..." murmured Lothlome as she smoothed a stray lock away from Kathaani's face. Mabalar still held her close, much as he had all those years before when his crying little girl required strong arms to hold her and let her feel safe and a soothing voice to calm her. Breathing shakily, she turned slightly to better fit against the contours of his arms, laying her head against his chest. Mabalar kissed Kathaani's hair, murmuring to her. "Inzi's safe, my dove, they're all safe. You did it." She looked up at his face, cherishing the warmth of her mother’s hands as they held hers, softly rubbing them with her thumbs. She began to cry, shaking her head. "No..." she whispered, "it wasn't me... none of it... it wasn't me." "Of course it was my darling." he whispered to her. "You initiated the mission... yes, shh..." he held her closer as Lothlome sat beside them. She wiped away her daughter's tears with gentle hands as he continued. "Yes... they told me everything, love. It was you who told them of my capture. It was you who rode to rescue me. It was you who were imprisoned on my behalf. And it was you who escaped." Kathaani wept more softly now. "But papa... I didn't... they were safer without me..." Lothlome spoke now. "My Cerveth.... my love, do you underestimate me? Would I have sent you if I thought you were a danger to the mission? My love… it was so important that you ride to save your father… and look before you… you did." Tears now came to Lothlome as well and her voice cracked into silence. Kathaani coughed violently now, spitting up blood. Mabalar held her close as Lothlome calmly wiped away the mess. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- EDIT** Fea -- Relax, enjoy your internetless state! Hello . . . my name is Piosenniel . . . and I'm an BD RPG addict. It's been several minutes since I last clicked through the Shire offerings . . . __________________ peace* Last edited by piosenniel; 12-17-2005 at 06:42 PM.

12-08-2005, 08:59 AM	#1
Himaran Ash of Orodruin Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Thangorodrim Posts: 777	Pio: can you please place this post above Post #106 in the game thread? Thanks! - Himaran *POST PLACED ~~ Pio** STARTPOST_______________________________________ It was terrifying. The island was tearing itself apart. The earth shifted and bucked underneath Kali's legs as the steed gallaped away from Armenelos with Abarzadan clinging to his mane. Trees were hurled from the ground as their very roots were disloged from the rocky turf. Newly formed gysers burst open and streams of water shot upward into the air. The wind had increased to a violent speed, throwing leaves, branches and small stones all about. And everywhere, water was rising. The earth itself had become almost sponge-like, completely saturated. Streams had become ponds, and ponds had turned into lakes. There was no longer a path; Kali was running on pure instinct, and the man could do nothing but hold on and hope. A tree crashed to the ground ten paces from them, but the horse was ready and leaped over it, never breaking stride. A branch broke of a nearby tree and slammed into Abarzadan's head, but through sheer force of will he kept his balance. Heavy rain added to his misery, pelting the sizable wound. Blood mixed with water trickled down his forhead, imparing his vision. The man was utterly helpless, at the mercy of his mount and the elements. Then an arrow whistled by his head, thudding into a nearby tree. Wipping his face, Abarzadan strained his neck around and could make out the shapes of several riders trailing him. They must have been following him since he and Kali hurtled through the city's east gate, although at the time it had appeared that their escape had been complete. The man grimaced. He had no weapons, was wounded, and had no idea how far away the shore was, or if the Faithful were even still there. He would have to use the only tool available to him: his horse. Taking a firmer grip, he directly Kali to he the right, dodging trees, boulders and other unexpected obstacles. He waited until they were over the next rise, took a backward glance, wispered an elvish phrase into the steed's ear, and dove off of his mount. On all fours, he crawled behinds a bush and waited. Kali's hoofbeats disappeared in the distance. By the sounds, their were four riders, and three of them continued onward. One, however, slowed, stopped, and turned around. Abarzadan waited, holding his breath. The rider's horse sniffed and whinnied, and its master said something to it in reply. Heavy steps came closer, stopping in front of the large bush. A string tightened. The man winced in dreaded anticipation. The string twanged, and an arrow burried itself in the ground and inch from his leg. Apparently satisfied, the soldier turned his horse away and trotted in the opposite direction. This, however, was not an opportunity Abarzadan was going to miss. He rolled out from behind the bush, dashed toward his unexpecting opponent, and dove towards him. The two collided and collapsed off of the horse. Brandishing the arrow he had plucked from the turf, the last remaining member of the House of Batanzaira plunged it into the neck of the stunned Numenorean. Snatching his bow and quiver, Abarzadan climbed onto the obediant horse. The pair raced away from the scene, heading in the direction Kali and the others had taken. ~~ It was not long before they were located. Abarzadan slowed his mount and hopped off, readying his bow. Ahead, three men and four horses were gathered, one of which was being admired by its new masters. Kali stopped!* The realization struck him with horror. What if he missed, and hit Kali instead? He need a diverstion. Turning to his waiting horse, he gave it a little shove in their direction and barked an order. Snorting, it trotted away from him and towards the others. Abarzadan circled around to a better angle, moving from tree to tree. The ground squished and his boots filled with water, but he kept moving. In the clearing, the three men turned away from Kali and looked the other horse over. Time was running out. The man took careful aim, exhaled, and sent a shaft whistling towards his targets, and it hit one in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Now Abarzadan was running, notching another arrow. He released it in full stride, watching with satisfaction as it came to rest in the head of the second enemy. Now too close for ranged combat, he dropped the bow and pulled the quiver off of his back, swinging it by the strap. The final soldier backed away, sword at ready. The pair circled one another, with Abarzadan keeping the quiver spinning at full speed. "So it has come to this, my friend," shouted Abarzadan over the rushing wind. "Numenoreans killing each other over a senseless disagreement." The other merely grimaced. "You are a heretic, like all the others. You should have died at the temple with the rest." Kali punctuated his statement, drilling the unsuspecting man to the ground with a swift kick from his front hooves. Abarzadan chuckled. "A pity you couldn't be back at Armenelos. I am certain that the sight of your great temple crumbling to the ground would be an unforgettable one." Leaving the stunned soldier to decide his own fate, the man tossed the quiver away and climbed onto Kali's waiting back. As they got further from the center of the island, the storm gradually melted away, but the man knew it would not be long before the entire landmass would share the same fate. Suddenly, the pair burst from the forest. They were on a grassy hill looking down on the coast. The man whooped with joy, for the ships of the Faithful were still ancored in the bay. _______________ENDPOST Last edited by piosenniel; 12-08-2005 at 11:23 AM.