ATM II Planning/Discussion Thread

[piosenniel]

FIRST POST for the game

“You’ll never prove anything.” He spat in her face, his thin, pale lips parting to reveal yellowed teeth. His sour breath made her stomach turn, but outwardly she was serene, her bright grey eyes unusually cold and calculating. Wiping the saliva from her cheek, she patted him condescendingly on the head with her wet hand.

“You’ve forgotten where we are. I don't need to prove anything to anybody. This is Mordor. Habeas corpus doesn’t apply.” Alli Umfuil, escaped prisoner of Mordor and newly instated spymaster of the king looked down at her desk and the heaps of paper thereupon as the sounds of desperate screams echoed down the dark and foreboding hall through which the unlucky prisoner was now being dragged. She was not about to explain to the man that, as spymaster of the king and confidante of Illamatar, she had access to the sort of information that he’d never in his wildest dreams imagine. With one night’s unsettled sleep, she’d spotted the felon even as he lurked in the shadows of his favorite haunt. The king was unhappy with the rate of unsolved murders in the back allies behind his palace… bad for the tourist industry, as it were. Alli had found the killer and sent her own team of guards to capture him before he could strike again. She knew that criminals must be watched, preferably stopped, but she’d inspected the dungeons of Mount Doom Palace and Casino and found herself pitying those trapped therein.

She poured a basin of water, scrubbing the remnants of spit from her pale hand. She kept her stomach muscles tight, willing herself not to gag as she splashed cold water upon her face as well. Patting her pearly skin dry, she answered the light knock on the extremely large set of double doors into her office. The torchlight cut through the darkness to illuminate shackles on the walls… the former spymaster had had a flair for the dramatic before his yet unsolved death.

“Yeah!” she called by way of invitation. The doors opened and the king entered, his peg-leg clicking on the flagstones. He ducked through the doors, standing fully once inside, the cathedral ceiling accommodating his bulk.

“Roggie,” she greeted with a tired smile and a bow. “What can I do for you?”

“I see you’ve captured the killer.” She nodded, sitting down behind her desk and absent-mindedly sorting papers that her secretary had forwarded to her into ‘look at immediately,’ ‘consider taking a peek at later,’ and ‘conveniently lose in the fireplace.’

“He wasn’t much trouble… injured one of my men, but it wasn’t much… certainly not enough to send him to be checked out by incompetent nurses. I told him to stay off that leg for a few days. Sent him on vacation. I owed him a few days for the extra time he put in to help me set up my contacts. He knows a lot… I’m not sure how comfortable I am with his knowledge of my network. I mean, he only knows the contacts I chose to be my findables… If they’re caught, no biggie. They’ll be helpful in the mean time, you know?”

Roggie sat on the floor, his legs stretched before him, his body comfortably heating the otherwise cold room, his faint burning glow illuminating the chamber with soft red light. It was imprudent to have a wooden castle with a balrogic king, but Alli got cold easily with the inescapable stonework. She was always happy to have Roggie of Morgoth in her presence, both for physical warmth and the ability to share that which plagued her mind.

“I’m not over-working you, am I, Alli?” he growled concernedly. He looked menacing with his patched-eye and combustible body. Alli reached casually behind her and pushed her window open to let the early summer breeze come through; the room was getting a little smoky and her eyes were beginning to water. She glanced around the area outside her office before continuing, trusting in her privacy precautions to keep their conversation away from the ears of strangers.

“Of course not, Rogs. It’s just… well… I’ve not seen Aimè in weeks and I know that there are at least two werewolves still out there, and the wizards have been causing all kinds of trouble…”

“Actually, you’ve just named why I stopped.”

“Aww, not just to visit with your best pal?” she teased lightly.

“You know I like to visit with you but-“ he stopped, seeing her laugh. “Anyhow… I received a letter from the wizards today. The gist of it was that if I can’t get Mardil to stop being such an arrogant” Alli laughed at Roggie’s impolite phrasing of Mardil II of Gondor’s personality. “Basically, if I can’t work out some sort of something getting Mardil to agree to a few concessions, they’re going to rework the Dweomer into something, to quote them, “far more ominous than mere words can describe!!!!”. Yeah, Alli… they actually used four exclamation points. The darndest thing, really.”

“So what are you going to do?” Her papers were forgotten. She looked across her desk at her friend, their eyes nearly level with him seated on the floor.

“Nothing.” he said.

“So you’re going to let the wizards… do whatever it is they’re going to do?”

“I’m not groveling to that egotist. If it weren’t for him, I’d have both legs still. If it weren't for him, this country would be a lot easier to run and you know it. Just because he felt the need to seize control of Gondor doesn’t mean he has control of Mordor.”

“Oh, Rog, I… I meant to tell you… the King’s Law is weakening ever since Mardil seized power. Every border guard I’ve got’s been sending reports on it. Mardil actually… well… he really kind of does have control. The more power he gets, the less power the spells have to keep your borders closed and your people here.”

“I spotted that illegal emigration is at an all-time high…”

“Yeah, well… it’s Mardil’s fault. If he’d just work something out with the wizards, but he’ll never do it. You know how he is with people telling him what to do.”

Roggie sighed, laying back on the formerly cool stone floor. “Alli, how am I supposed to run this place with my people leaving and a pair of crackpot old Istari changing the rules any time we get them figured out? They’re pressuring me to treat with Mardil and quite frankly, I don’t want to.”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Roggie sat up, shocked. “But… even after—“

“Roggie, it’s been a year and he's married now anyhow. And I’m your top advisor. Surely I ought to be living up to my job by doing the things that you can't and telling you when to let me?

"You sure as heck can’t travel to Gondor and work out negotiations with Mardil. Even if you could just up and leave your responsibilities, the Dweomer still has you and nearly every one of your staff members trapped here. I’m better suited for the travel, I’ve got contacts in his palace as well… If you’ll lend me some ambassadors, I can get this worked out in no time flat. Just give me permission, Roggie, and I'll go to Gondor.

"I've been granted the right to freely come and go. I can ride out, convince Mardil to send some diplomats, and we'll all treat here. It will be easy enough for me to do and downright impossible for almost anybody else.”

The king stood, bowing low to his friend. His good eye looked teary, but Alli ignored it politely as good friends sometimes must.

After a short time of visiting, Roggie left, the enormous doors closing behind him with a tiny click disproportionate to their size. Alli looked at her desk again, tears now in her eyes. Why had she offered? She’d never particularly wanted to see Mardil again… now she would be forced to deal with him and knowing his mind for strategy, he'd invite his wife along for the discussions.

Yes, she loved her job… she loved to know things, and having the best job in the kingdom for somebody that likes to find things out kept her content. But negotiating a treaty with Mardil?

She pitied the ambassadors that got between them all.

Unwilling to get out of the comfortable chair it had taken her seven days of combing Roggie’s castle for, Alli called loudly for her secretary. The woman stepped from the shadows near the door, looking severe with her half-moon spectacles and neat chignon.

“Ms. Martinet,” Alli said. “You listened? Of course… I needn’t ask. I did a good day’s work when I recruited you for this job.

"The king will provide you with a list of names shortly. They are the ambassadors he'll have chosen. I’m riding out this afternoon to treat with King Mardil; no need for you to worry about anything on that end. I’ll get names and information on everybody that he picks to accompany me back and brief you on my return.

"We’ll need suites for them, of course, and private chambers for them all to work in… all of the amenities. And every second they’re in Mordor, I want to know who is doing what, when, and with whom. You know the drill. I'll want logistics taken care of while I'm gone. You'll have about a week before I'm back with Mardil's cronies and we can get this mess fixed.”

“Yes, Miss Umfuil.” Ms. Martinet finished scratching the details of her orders on a yellow legal pad and disappeared once more.

Reflecting, if she’d known it, King Theoden of Rohan (may he rest in peace) upon the brink of battle so long ago, Alli, with her head cradled in her long fingers, muttered softly to herself… “So it begins.”

[piosenniel]

JennyHallu's character:


Name: Lola Martinet, aka 'Ms. Martinet'

Age: 27

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Weapons: Wit and an acerbic tongue, also, and subject to approval, a set of weaponized ballpoint pens in blue and black ink.

Personality/Appearance/All that Jazz: Lola Martinet is perverse, contrary, sly, and gets intense satisfaction out of irritating people. This, combined with a delightfully unorthodox profession, has given her the perfect excuse to create two separate personas, so incredibly different that only a few people have ever managed to connect the two (even as fraternal twins, separated at birth and raised by wild animals and orcs, respectively). Only Alli is aware that her second-in-command is, in fact, perfectly sane.

By day, Ms. Martinet rules the roost at Alli's office. To anyone but her employer she is the secretary from hell. She has perfected bureaucracy into a fine art, developing multiple forms (each to be filed in triplicate) for simple tasks, and delights in filling each out with slightly different information in order to crow over the chaos further down the line. She works on her manicure on busy days, intentionally misdirects callers and visitors, chews bubble gum loudly during conversations, and, when asked to take minutes of sensitive meetings, stares fixedly at a spot in the center of the speaker's forehead, never glancing down at her notebook. For Alli, however, she is quick and efficient, with no delays or complaints. She looks mousy, dresses in dull browns and tans, and glares at people over the rims of half-moon glasses. Her hair is always a tight damp knot of indeterminate color, and her nails the only part of her body to be perpetually perfectly groomed. She plays progressive jazz in the office (you know, the sort with a three-drink minimum) and is always the only person to understand it, much less enjoy it.

By night, sexy, voluptuous Lola is every man's dream. Her blond hair is always perfectly crimped and coiffed, and she dresses in clothes and styles designed to accentuate her curvaceous body (her favorite is a red sequined minidress). She sings her beloved jazz in a nightclub in Mordor--that is, when she isn't completing daring and dangerous missions with Alli in the dead of night. Her starry, near violet eyes make men believe she is promising the moon. She isn't. (Even when she glances up at them coyly through her thick dark lashes.) She is a flirt, a maneater, and a heartbreaker, and delights in it.

History: Lola grew up a prim, proper, and inhibited young lady in Gondor, but was assigned to Mordor when her classical harp music suddenly gained some rather odd chords. She only half-heartedly worked to be able to leave, as she found she loved the chaos and confusion of life in Mordor...it played right into her perfectly manicured hands.

[piosenniel]

GONDOR

the phantom's character


NAME: Mardil II

AGE: 24

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS (no magical, super-hero, mithril weapons. Just good solid Middle-earth weapons and armor only that is appropriate to the race of the character and the time period.): Mardil loves weapons. Now that he is King and no longer resides in Mordor, he doesn't go everywhere heavily armed. He does, however, have a few throwing knives on him at all times (and a few poisons), and is girt with Anduril, which his wife stole from Minas Tirith before she ran away to join Mardil in Ithilien.

APPEARANCE: Mardil has a lean athletic build with a height slightly less than the average Gondorian. He has blue eyes, and long, dirty-blonde hair.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: (No half-Elven characters. No mixed-type characters. No super-heroes. No assasins. No one all powerful, martial arts proficient, or having any magical traits. Just regular characters with normal abilities for their races only.): Mardil II bears himself in a very kingly fashion. Some think of him as arrogant, while others think of him as dignified and regal. He tries not to be condescending, but despite his efforts he comes across as such at times because he believes that his judgment is usually the best and his thoughts the most accurate. In his defense, he is indeed very intelligent and more wise than you would expect from a man of his age.

Mardil used to be scared to do things because he was afraid to fail, but he has overcome this problem for the most part, thanks to his sense of duty. He takes the responsibility of being King seriously, and does what he can for the good of Gondor.

When forced into a fight, Mardil II will not hesitate to cheat to win. Mardil II not only has every reason to live, but also dislikes being injured in any way, and so likes to end fights quickly and unfairly so as to avoid death or discomfort. In his defense, Mardil doesn't walk around picking fights, and so when a fight happens it is nearly always the other who caused it. Since being out of Mordor, though, fights are very rare. His guards take care of any who wish to harm Mardil.

Also, Mardil is no longer a womanizer the way he was in Mordor. He's married now, but you'll find out more about that later.

Mardil has a very persuasive tongue and can be very charming, and people who spend much time in his company find it hard to disagree with or dislike him. He can also be very straight forward and candid, especially behind closed doors. He doesn't try to compromise with people. Instead, he speaks his mind and attempts to show precisely why people should agree with his position.

HISTORY: Mardil II was born to Denethor IV, the Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor. He has a younger brother and sister, and a wife, Morwen, daughter of the former King of Gondor who still sits in Minas Tirith, Aranar.

The kingdom of Gondor had been in decline for some time when Mardil II's grandfather, Ecthelion IV was born. Ecthelion was a great orator, and very ambitious. During his years as Steward and Prince he did all he could to gain political power in the Kingdom.

Though he never did it publicly, he spread rumors about the King, about how all of the problems throughout Gondor were his fault. After a while, there began to be a small faction called "The Steward's Men" who were more loyal to the Steward than to the King.

The King was not blind to any of these developments, but he could not do much about it, because the people of Gondor, even those who were not Steward's Men, loved Ecthelion greatly. He had a way with people, as do all great politicians.

His son, Denethor IV, was also greatly beloved. In his early years he served in the army and navy, and won many glorious victories. When he returned from the field to take his position as the Steward, he soon proved that he had inherited his father's ability to speak and win people over to his side. He was also a brilliant economist, and invested his wealth in strategic places- places that would earn him power. By the time his son, Mardil II, was born, the Steward wielded King-like authority over his own province, Ithilien, and had influence nearly equal to that of the King over the lands to the East and South.

Not surprisingly, the sitting King, Aranar, was rather disturbed when his rival, the Steward, named his son Mardil II, after Mardil, the first steward to rule Gondor. And so, the King began plotting how to rid himself of the whole Steward problem.

First, he began a campaign of rumors against the Steward, attempting to lay most of the blame for various misfortunes at his feet. This never worked too well, but it did win some of the masses to his side. He also started a secret army that disguised itself as raiders from the East and attacked shipments and stole cargo headed to and from Denethor and his friends in Ithilien, thus loosening some of the economic hold he had on several organizations. After the winds of power and opinion began to blow against the Steward, the King decided he had enough control over his Kingdom to get rid of the Steward's lone heir and not cause a civil war. At this time, Mardil was eighteen and in Minas Tirith studying at the royal university.

The night after the King had finished making plans to banish young Mardil II to Mordor, he went walking in the palace garden and caught his daughter, Morwen, and Mardil making out in one of the fountains. The enraged King called for the guards and accused Mardil of doing this simply to spite him, but in fact Mardil and the King's daughter had long been in love, but could not be so publicly because of the hatred King Aranar bore Mardil and his family.

After his daughter begged and pleaded, the King agreed not to have the guards kill Mardil on the spot, but nothing she could say could stop the King from exiling Mardil to Mordor, which was as good as a death sentence, because no one ever returned from Mordor unless the King wanted.

Two years after arriving in Mordor, Mardil received news that Morwen had been married to a Prince from Dol Amroth. The report was not true, but Mardil believed it (Mardil was prone to pessimism), and his behavior and character took a rather large turn for the worst. But after five years of exile, Anakron, who had long believed that Mardil II was destined to become King, took it into his own hands to rig the machine that produced candidates for the Escape From Mordor. During the escape, Mardil was forced to complete challenges and work with others, and many of his better traits began to emerge once again.

In the end, the two Blue Istari demanded that Mardil II subject himself to their authority and rule Gondor under them, but Mardil refused. Mardil saw their desire to rule a realm that was not theirs (and the threatening way that they went about it) as a sign that they were very much like their fellow Wizard Saruman.

The Blue Istari attempted to foil Mardil's return to Gondor, but Mardil was transported to the far away Shire by some unknown means. Upon his return to Gondor, he found that the hearts of the population of Gondor were largely turned to him. They had all heard about his words and deeds during the entire Escape From Mordor, and were won over by his charming personality, brave deeds, and especially his loyalty to his kingdom in the face of the Blue Istari.

When the people of Gondor then found out that Mardil II had been wrongfully sent to Mordor by King Aranar, their loyalty went completely over to Mardil, especially when he was joined in Ithilien by Morwen, who escaped from Minas Tirith bearing Anduril, which she stole from her father. Morwen and Mardil were wed a few short months later.

[piosenniel]

GONDOR

Formendacil's character

NAME: Hyarmenwë son of Hyarmendil

AGE: 71

RACE: Dúnedain of Gondor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Sword

APPEARANCE: Typically Dúnedainic in appearance: tall, silver-haired, with a regal, thin face, a slightly hooked nose, and rather bushy eyebrows. Cleanshaven, with a proud, straight, almost military, bearing. Generally serious in mien.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Hyarmenwë can be summed up in the word "haughty". He may think of himself as a good man, and can be fairly kind towards youth or fools, he, nonetheless, sees the world through the very tinted glasses of noble birth. A nationalist in his world view, he sees Gondor as the greatest nation in the world, an almost "Chosen People". He is absolutely loyal to the House of Telcontar, and can be very narrowminded towards all else.

HISTORY: As pureblooded a Dúnedan as one can be in the mid-Fourth Age, Hyarmenwë comes of a very noble family of Minas Tirith, claiming direct descent from Húrin, Warden of the Keys, whose title he holds himself, as well as kinship with the Line of the Stewards and the Kings of Gondor. As a young man, he served in campaigns in Far Harad, and became Keeper of the Keys after the death of his father Hyarmendil. Although advancing a great deal in age, he remains hale thus far. He has not used a blade in years, but could probably be expected to wield it respectably, were he to need to.

[piosenniel]

GONDOR

the guy who be short's character

NAME: Angawen Tupsë

AGE: 31

RACE: Men (Numenorean / Gondorian)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: A sharp brain and a honeyed tongue. A small vial of poison carried at all times in her cloak. And her bodyguards, of course.

APPEARANCE: To say she is striking would probably not convey her true nature, as striking seems to have an element of soft perfection in it. She is attractive, but with a hard quality about her, possibly due to her high cheek bones and pale skin. Her hair is blonde, her eyes brown, her mouth downturned in a not unpleasant way. She is tall and commanding, and dresses well, in colours that complement her.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: She is a shrewd and selfish person - above all else, she cares for her own self-promotion. This is both the great strength and weakness of her character. She does not jest, but is rather an austere figure of authority who takes her work and herself very seriously. Though in the frail body of a woman, she has the stomach of a man - two men, in fact, and the rest of their bodies as well, for her protection.

HISTORY: It is uncommon to find a woman of high rank in Gondor. Angawen can thus be typified; she is incredibly uncommon.

Wed at a young age to a man of importance in the law business, an advisor/judge of sorts, in the Kingdom, she lived with him for many of her years, cared for him, but bore him no children. Every great man has a woman to drive him forward, they say, and certainly this was the case with Angawen's husband. She was privy to all the secrets of his profession and his life, for he loved and trusted her. Furthermore, he knew her intellect to be formidable, and would consult her often for her thoughts.

He had died in mysterious circumstances (of which she played a significant part). And, as his wife, she knew all that he had known when he was an honourable citizen of Gondor, so she was accepted and inaugarated as an advisor for the king in his stead for the case they had been settling at the time - a disputed assignation, almost ironically. Her ability to discern fact from fiction had so impressed the King that she had been allowed to stay on, against protocol, as one of his advisors.

With the coming on Mardil, she had shown her ruthless ambition in her willingness to desert the former monarch and embrace the newcomer. He had allowed her to keep her rôle, and indeed, been impressed by her in his turn, to the point of sending her to Mordor to represent his will.

[piosenniel]

GONDOR

Anguirel's character

NAME: The Lord Dracomir Malfoidacil of Gondor, son of the Lord Luciamir Malfoidacil. Also known in the anakronistic tongue as one Master Tom Felton.

AGE: 18, or 15, or 16 (Real Life, Film, or Book)

RACE: Human and secretly Pureblood Wizard

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: The Lord Dracomir has been known to wield a strange and deadly device known as a Diabolo. He also possesses a wand and a Nimbus Two Thousand And One racing broom. As for what happens at night...well...

APPEARANCE: Pale but rather embarrassingly adorable features. Slicked back white-blond hair. Tall enough for his age. Looks as though he’s making an effort to appear rather more pallid and patrician than he actually is.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: The Lord Dracomir is a cunning schemer and duellist, an excellent flyer, has few equals in Potions (except that Potter boy), and has a grounding in the Dark Arts.

However, Tom Felton is crippled by the inner realisation that he is in fact a gorgeous, pleasant, hair-rufflable cherub with nice manners, not a bigoted murderer. He tries to hide this by over-compensating arrogance and political incorrectness. It rarely works.

HISTORY: Tom Felton used to be a normal, happy, prancing Kensington child. But then he was whisked away by the forces of Hollywood, where he took on the persona of Draco Malfoy and became beloved of millions of raving fangirls. He forgot his old life and became stuck in a rut, and could be found conspiring with Jason Isaacs to destroy Mudbloods.

But the situation got still worse when Harry Potter purists, frustrated by a covetous glance he directed at Emma Watson in a moment of non-focalisation, consigned him to Mordor. Here he encountered none other than Fenrir Greyback, assigned by a Lupin-lover. After a desperate confrontation he managed to escape and stumbled upon his parents, Lucius and Narcissa. An independent lad, though, with a keen interest in night-life, he was wandering in the street when a large and luminous llama appeared, shouted Petrificus Totallus! and stuffed him in a bin-bag.

He was discovered by Alli and Sai, two members of the Offending Party, and took part in their subsequent machinations, including the Dol-in-Gaurgauroth affair. Impressed by his clear ability, when Mardil of Ithilien became King of Gondor he summoned Tom, granting him and his family the title of Lords of Malfoidacil for as long as they served as counsellors. Tom did not wish to refuse, and took the name Dracomir; for after all, the King had been told the plot of Book Seven...

[piosenniel]

GONDOR


Boromir88's character

Name: Bearugard II

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Race: Gondorian

Weapons: A small piercing dagger

Appearance: 6'3", slim build, jet black hair of shoulder length, and hazel eyes. He always wears the best attire, flaunting his fur cloak, and his radiant robs of green and white.

Personality/Strengths/Weaknesses:
Bearugard is very gifted at persuasion and getting what he wants, no matter how it is done. He's always been the type who doesn't care what "means" you have to do, as long as it fulfills the "end" purpose. He will cast around a lot of threats (though many of them are meaningless) and when that doesn't work everyone has a price.

Despite the rich robes and stout look, he really is a daddy's boy and is used to getting what he wants. In all actuality the robes and wealth make him look more powerful than he actually is. For beneath it all he's really just a pathetic, spineless worm.

History:
Bearugard II is the son of Bearugard I and Losandra of Dol Amroth. He is an only child, and because of that, his parents spoiled him and rewarded him with anything that he asked. Losandra had died from an unfortunate accident when Bearugard was just turning 8. One day the family was having chicken for dinner. Losandra had bit into her chicken breast and a tiny bone broke off. It got lodged into her throat and she choked to death.

Bearugard's father (who was a counselor to the Lord of Dol Amroth) grieved deeply for his wife's loss, he would never wed again nor would he eat chicken. Because of his wife's death Bearugard felt like he must protect the only memory of his wife he had left, their son. Bearugard II became more and more spoiled, and because of his father's influence, was appointed as an honorary diplomat of Gondor.

[Formendacil]

As promised, the new character's biography:

NAME: Elrogorn son of Elrohir

AGE: Same as the entire Fourth Age, minus about ten years.

RACE: Dúnedain of Arnor/Noldorin Elf.

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Silver-hilted sword, longbow, quiver of arrows, dagger.

APPEARANCE: Unfairly handsome, Elrogorn is tall, with long, dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, strong and muscular- and tanned. Moves gracefully.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Elrogorn is a polite, charming, and dashing, with a streak of heroic recklessness at times- which can get him into trouble.

HISTORY: The son of Elrohir, son of Elrond (and thus nephew to Aragorn and Arwen), Elrogorn is also the son of a totally non-canonical blonde half-Elf/half-Arnorian Ranger Princess. As soon as Mordor began to receive assignees, Elrogorn was among the first assigned. Half-Elven Shield-surfers (a trait learned from his "uncle" Legolas) are, quite simply, NOT canonical. His mother was assigned too, but she died in a tragic attack by Wereducks (also being assigned) on their way into Mordor. His father, Elrohir, is believed to have long disappeared into the West, never to mention his wife or son again. Elrogorn, resigned to a life in Mordor, has made it his life's passion to hunt down and destroy all Wereducks he can.

There he is, people... my very non-Canonical new character. He will be in Mordor until the day he dies.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

I hope the conclusion to the cliffhanger was satisfactory.

Should I get my characters back to the mountain soon, or at least until the next day when the delegates have finished their 'day off'?

[Boromir88]

Save has been filled, Bearugard's got catching a bit of a gollum today...enjoy.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

PLACED ON PROPOSAL ~*~ PIO

FIRST POST FOR GAME


“You’ll never prove anything.” He spat in her face, his thin, pale lips parting to reveal yellowed teeth. His sour breath made her stomach turn, but outwardly she was serene, her bright grey eyes unusually cold and calculating. Wiping the saliva from her cheek, she patted him condescendingly on the head with her wet hand.

“You’ve forgotten where we are. I don't need to prove anything to anybody. This is Mordor. Habeas corpus doesn’t apply.” Alli Umfuil, escaped prisoner of Mordor and newly instated spymaster of the king looked down at her desk and the heaps of paper thereupon as the sounds of desperate screams echoed down the dark and foreboding hall through which the unlucky prisoner was now being dragged. She was not about to explain to the man that, as spymaster of the king and confidante of Illamatar, she had access to the sort of information that he’d never in his wildest dreams imagine. With one night’s unsettled sleep, she’d spotted the felon even as he lurked in the shadows of his favorite haunt. The king was unhappy with the rate of unsolved murders in the back allies behind his palace… bad for the tourist industry, as it were. Alli had found the killer and sent her own team of guards to capture him before he could strike again. She knew that criminals must be watched, preferably stopped, but she’d inspected the dungeons of Mount Doom Palace and Casino and found herself pitying those trapped therein.

She poured a basin of water, scrubbing the remnants of spit from her pale hand. She kept her stomach muscles tight, willing herself not to gag as she splashed cold water upon her face as well. Patting her pearly skin dry, she answered the light knock on the extremely large set of double doors into her office. The torchlight cut through the darkness to illuminate shackles on the walls… the former spymaster had had a flair for the dramatic before his yet unsolved death.

“Yeah!” she called by way of invitation. The doors opened and the king entered, his peg-leg clicking on the flagstones. He ducked through the doors, standing fully once inside, the cathedral ceiling accommodating his bulk.

“Roggie,” she greeted with a tired smile and a bow. “What can I do for you?”

“I see you’ve captured the killer.” She nodded, sitting down behind her desk and absent-mindedly sorting papers that her secretary had forwarded to her into ‘look at immediately,’ ‘consider taking a peek at later,’ and ‘conveniently lose in the fireplace.’

“He wasn’t much trouble… injured one of my men, but it wasn’t much… certainly not enough to send him to be checked out by incompetent nurses. I told him to stay off that leg for a few days. Sent him on vacation. I owed him a few days for the extra time he put in to help me set up my contacts. He knows a lot… I’m not sure how comfortable I am with his knowledge of my network. I mean, he only knows the contacts I chose to be my findables… If they’re caught, no biggie. They’ll be helpful in the mean time, you know?”

Roggie sat on the floor, his legs stretched before him, his body comfortably heating the otherwise cold room, his faint burning glow illuminating the chamber with soft red light. It was imprudent to have a wooden castle with a balrogic king, but Alli got cold easily with the inescapable stonework. She was always happy to have Roggie of Morgoth in her presence, both for physical warmth and the ability to share that which plagued her mind.

“I’m not over-working you, am I, Alli?” he growled concernedly. He looked menacing with his patched-eye and combustible body. Alli reached casually behind her and pushed her window open to let the early summer breeze come through; the room was getting a little smoky and her eyes were beginning to water. She glanced around the area outside her office before continuing, trusting in her privacy precautions to keep their conversation away from the ears of strangers.

“Of course not, Rogs. It’s just… well… I’ve not seen Aimè in weeks and I know that there are at least two werewolves still out there, and the wizards have been causing all kinds of trouble…”

“Actually, you’ve just named why I stopped.”

“Aww, not just to visit with your best pal?” she teased lightly.

“You know I like to visit with you but-“ he stopped, seeing her laugh. “Anyhow… I received a letter from the wizards today. The gist of it was that if I can’t get Mardil to stop being such an arrogant” Alli laughed at Roggie’s impolite phrasing of Mardil II of Gondor’s personality. “Basically, if I can’t work out some sort of something getting Mardil to agree to a few concessions, they’re going to rework the Dweomer into something, to quote them, “far more ominous than mere words can describe!!!!”. Yeah, Alli… they actually used four exclamation points. The darndest thing, really.”

“So what are you going to do?” Her papers were forgotten. She looked across her desk at her friend, their eyes nearly level with him seated on the floor.

“Nothing.” he said.

“So you’re going to let the wizards… do whatever it is they’re going to do?”

“I’m not groveling to that egotist. If it weren’t for him, I’d have both legs still. If it weren't for him, this country would be a lot easier to run and you know it. Just because he felt the need to seize control of Gondor doesn’t mean he has control of Mordor.”

“Oh, Rog, I… I meant to tell you… the King’s Law is weakening ever since Mardil seized power. Every border guard I’ve got’s been sending reports on it. Mardil actually… well… he really kind of does have control. The more power he gets, the less power the spells have to keep your borders closed and your people here.”

“I spotted that illegal emigration is at an all-time high…”

“Yeah, well… it’s Mardil’s fault. If he’d just work something out with the wizards, but he’ll never do it. You know how he is with people telling him what to do.”

Roggie sighed, laying back on the formerly cool stone floor. “Alli, how am I supposed to run this place with my people leaving and a pair of crackpot old Istari changing the rules any time we get them figured out? They’re pressuring me to treat with Mardil and quite frankly, I don’t want to.”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Roggie sat up, shocked. “But… even after—“

“Roggie, it’s been a year and he's married now anyhow. And I’m your top advisor. Surely I ought to be living up to my job by doing the things that you can't and telling you when to let me?

"You sure as heck can’t travel to Gondor and work out negotiations with Mardil. Even if you could just up and leave your responsibilities, the Dweomer still has you and nearly every one of your staff members trapped here. I’m better suited for the travel, I’ve got contacts in his palace as well… If you’ll lend me some ambassadors, I can get this worked out in no time flat. Just give me permission, Roggie, and I'll go to Gondor.

"I've been granted the right to freely come and go. I can ride out, convince Mardil to send some diplomats, and we'll all treat here. It will be easy enough for me to do and downright impossible for almost anybody else.”

The king stood, bowing low to his friend. His good eye looked teary, but Alli ignored it politely as good friends sometimes must.

After a short time of visiting, Roggie left, the enormous doors closing behind him with a tiny click disproportionate to their size. Alli looked at her desk again, tears now in her eyes. Why had she offered? She’d never particularly wanted to see Mardil again… now she would be forced to deal with him and knowing his mind for strategy, he'd invite his wife along for the discussions.

Yes, she loved her job… she loved to know things, and having the best job in the kingdom for somebody that likes to find things out kept her content. But negotiating a treaty with Mardil?

She pitied the ambassadors that got between them all.

Unwilling to get out of the comfortable chair it had taken her seven days of combing Roggie’s castle for, Alli called loudly for her secretary. The woman stepped from the shadows near the door, looking severe with her half-moon spectacles and neat chignon.

“Ms. Martinet,” Alli said. “You listened? Of course… I needn’t ask. I did a good day’s work when I recruited you for this job.

"The king will provide you with a list of names shortly. They are the ambassadors he'll have chosen. I’m riding out this afternoon to treat with King Mardil; no need for you to worry about anything on that end. I’ll get names and information on everybody that he picks to accompany me back and brief you on my return.

"We’ll need suites for them, of course, and private chambers for them all to work in… all of the amenities. And every second they’re in Mordor, I want to know who is doing what, when, and with whom. You know the drill. I'll want logistics taken care of while I'm gone. You'll have about a week before I'm back with Mardil's cronies and we can get this mess fixed.”

“Yes, Miss Umfuil.” Ms. Martinet finished scratching the details of her orders on a yellow legal pad and disappeared once more.

Reflecting, if she’d known it, King Theoden of Rohan (may he rest in peace) upon the brink of battle so long ago, Alli, with her head cradled in her long fingers, muttered softly to herself… “So it begins.”

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The edited first post. Hopefully that's clearer.

I have one or two comments for everybody before we start posting, but they can wait until the thread is open.

[piosenniel]

Reminders for an RPG in play:

• Please remove your signature from EVERY post to the RPG thread - including SAVES
  
  
• Don't use smileys in your RPG posts or icons - e.g., etc.
  
  
• Don't highlight any part of the RPG text.
  
  
• Don't use the 'Reason for Editing' function on your RPG posts. If it's critical that other players know that you've changed something, then put a post on the Discussion Thread about your edit.
  
  
• No OOC (out of character comments) on the RPG thread - use the Discussion Thread.
  
  
• SAVES should be filled within 24 hours/48 at the latest and may be removed from the game at the discretion of the moderator.
  
  
• Swearing, sexual conduct, or obscenity of any kind are absolutely prohibited. There are no exceptions.
  
  

  . . . I always ask myself if any of these words or euphemisms for cursing would be found in Tolkien's works. So I always say no to cursing and to any 'pseudo-cursing'. They need to keep it clean. -- per The Barrow-Wight

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~*~ THE GAME IS NOW OPEN FOR PLAY ~*~


~*~ Pio

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

The game is now ready for posting. First read this:

Gondorians MUST keep in mind that the Kings Law and Anakronism Dweomer are still in effect, though have been acting oddly. Gondorians are NOT allowed to act uncanonically. In ATM1, even speaking of anakronisms was enough to get you Assigned to Mordor. The rules stand.

If a Gondorian diplomat acts anything out of the ordinary for a traditional Gondorian diplomat, there will be Consequences.

Now everybody, go introduce yourselves.

And don't forget, this is supposed to be comedy.

Have fun! I'm glad to be working with such a great group of writers. Let's make this something the entire 'Downs will want to read.

[the guy who be short]

*Poke*

Language, Fea?

May I also ask about this ban on obscenity. We can still do romance, can't we?

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Ah yes, thanks for reminding me. Language issues: remember that Gondorians speak Westron. No non-Middle Earth language used by them or there will be Consequences.

There were more details to it, but in my preoccupation, I've forgotten. TGWBS, could you please clarify the language issue for the good people, since I suspect that my first paragraph doesn't make sense?

Obscenity: I'm not fully aware of the extent to which this ban implies, but the rule I want everyone to go by is "If you wouldn't want your ten-year-old sister reading it, don't post it."

Romance is very much allowed, but keep it tasteful and "in the spirit of Tolkien."

[Diamond18]

Originally Posted by Feanor of the Peredhil

Ah yes, thanks for reminding me. Language issues: remember that Gondorians speak Westron. No non-Middle Earth language used by them or there will be Consequences.

Well, if I unwittingly have one of the Gondorians slipping up in one of my posts, I hope you'll just ask me to edit and not assign them to Mordor.

Obscenity: I'm not fully aware of the extent to which this ban implies, but the rule I want everyone to go by is "If you wouldn't want your ten-year-old sister reading it, don't post it."

What if, hypothetically speaking, I'd happily corrupt the mind of my hypothetical ten-year-old-sister with all manner of hypothetical obsceneties? *innocent, sweet smile*

I won't post anything I wouldn't dare to post anywhere else in the forum.

Romance is very much allowed, but keep it tasteful and "in the spirit of Tolkien."

What, no chance of putting the Travest-O-Metre to work? (For those not familiar, the T-O-M was created by Squatter of Amon Rudh for use in measuring the the level of outrageousness in REB posts.) Well it's a good thing Skittles is too insane to fall in love. Unless Nilp agrees to cameo, of course.