The Third Age: A Lord of the Rings RP (IC/Open)

by **Archegnum** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 8:03 am

Rivendell

Cirdan was surprised to hear that Gandalf was in fact already in Rivendell, but much more hopeful than he had been before.

"Mithrandir" he cried, joining Elrond in greeting the wandering wizard. "How goes it with you? It has been long since we have met. We were just discussing how to request your presence here." His gaze darted down to Gandalf's hand. "And how," he said, in a quieter voice, "is Narya? My hand feels empty without its Ring. But it was well given, for I know much of what you have achieved with its power. Elrond is not alone in being far-sighted."

by **Maineiacs** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 8:58 am

Isengard--

Wormtongue was relieved when he saw Gandalf depart. After the Wizard was out of sight, Wormtongue exited the building where he had been hiding. He went down the half-mile of the main causeway on foot, then climbed the long stairway to the door of Orthanc.

"I am Gríma, son of Gálmód. I seek audience with Lord Saruman the Wise." he said.

Edoras--

Éowyn read the letter sent to her by her cousin, Théodred. She sighed. She knew how much her cousin was pained by the conflicting demands the King's illness had placed on him. She wished that Éomer was there. Théodred had been right: she could trust no one at Meduseld. Elfhelm, in charge of the garrison at Edoras, and Háma, Captain of the King's Guard had always seemed loyal, but with Théoden incapacitated, could she really be sure? At least Wormtongue was also not there at present. His eyes following her everywhere she went made her skin crawl. Yes, he might not move openly against her, as Théodred had assured her, but what if he did? Éowyn knew she could dispatch of him easily enough on her own; she was as good with a blade as any man in the Mark, but without Éomer or Théodred there to vouch for her, would anyone listen to her defense of such an action? She went to her room and penned the following to her cousin:

Code: Select all: Théodred, Sadly, the King weakens more with each passing day. Wormtongue means to set himself up in power in Meduseld, I am sure of it. Can you not come, or send Éomer? His charge in the Eastfold looks to our allies in Gondor. Surely, he could place things in Gamling's hands for a time? Please keep yourself safe, dear brother (for so I have always thought of you). I await your response. Éowyn

recruitment:

300 Riders, 2 trebuchets

by **Bearon** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 9:33 am

As Saruman searched the West for the presence of the ring all he found was that it did not reside in the far Southwest of Middle Earth. Knowing he would accomplish little else in his search for the ring with the time he had left he entered the courtyard of Isengard to inspect the now trained and armored troops. On his way to the barracks Saruman was pleased to see that work had progressed enough for the dam above Isengard to be completely finished with the orcs now having begun to construct great water wheels and engines that would harness the mighty power of the Isen. The fortifications around Isengard had been strenghthened as well. What had previously been ten foot thick and twenty foot high walls was now twice its previous height and width. As Saruman arrived at the Urak barraks he was surprised and pleased to see so many Uraks. The orcs work was progressing well. Grasping one particularly large and cunning looking Urak Saruman spoke to it in the orcish language saying "You are the strongest of your brethren and you look to be quite intelligent for an Urak-Hai." Saruman said "You will lead your brethren in an attack on the wizard Gandalf and take from him and those he has with him all the rings they have. The most important of these is a small golden ring. You will attack when a crow fly's onto your shoulder and whispers to you where he is. Your name from this day onward shall be Lurtz. Continue to grow train and grow stronger and all your desires shall be met. Now tell me who do you serve?" The response was instantaneous" Saruman!" The Urak growled in a guttural snarl. Saruman smiled before asking "And what is your mission?" The Urak gave an evil grin and said "To incapacitate the wizard Gandalf and those travelling with him and take all their rings." As an afterthought he adds "The small golden ring is the most important." Saruman smiled as the Urak was even smarter than he had first thought. Saruman then turned to the store house and said in a soft yet commanding voice "Grima come here." The voice itself was like like honey yet also demanded that the listener submit as it reverberated throughout Isengard.

Results: Damming of the Isen River completed. Fortifications under continued construction and improvement. Tunnels under continued expansion. 10 breeding pits have been completed. Recruited 250 Urak-Hai 250 Orcs 1,000 goblins and 100 Wargriders.

by **The Starlight** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 10:11 am

Lady Galadriel stood in one of the high talans in the beautiful mallorn trees of Lothlorien.Beside her was Lord Celeborn and as they reflected over their beautiful but small kingdom, Lady Galadriel said:
"The world is changing, husband. I have seen it in my Mirror and I feel it in the water. The power that dwells here in Nenya, I forsee, will not be enough to rise victorious over the shadow. War is coming, and Lothlorien must be prepared. Trough my mirror, I see that the One Ring has been found, but it is hidden from me where it is to be found. Word has come of a White Council which I must attend. In order to secure Lorien, we must have more soldiers. "

Celeborn suggested, we should train more swordsmen and spearmen, in the Noldorian way. Perhaps Elrond can send someone and provide the secrets to Noldorian plate armor. We should also fortify Lorien and prepare contigency plans, for there is a evil rising in power that rivals that of the Dark One, Melkor. We could also create secret bases within Fangorn Forest and secure an alliance with the Ents. A special guard will be created from elves drinking from the Ent-moot. But one thing, elves are great riders but have never before had cavalry. We could send a secret emissary to the King of Rohan to purchase some horses."
Galadriel and Celeborn talked for several more hours before calling Haldir to prepare for the Lady's departure to Imladris. Before leaving, Galadriel strengthened the borders around Lothlorien with her ring Nenya, especially for the border with South Mirkwood. The Lord of Lorien called the Captain of the Guard about recruitment. The Captain reported that 75 more Elven Guards were recruited as excellent archers with average swordsmanship.

The Lady's entourage of 25 Galadhrim warriors departed for Rivendell secretly in the night, hidden from the moonlight and the rest of Middle-Earth in their elven cloaks.

Recruitment

Letter to Rohan

by **Liecthenbourg** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 11:05 am

North of Rhunagaroth, Rhun
Soaring across the skies majestically like a great bird did the Fellbeast Fly, Khamul scanning the ground below with his ever watchfull vision. He extended a hand forward, the metallic gauntlet that was his right hand pointing an elongated finger down upon the ground.

"There!" was his harsh command, his voice filled with malice and authority.

The Fellbeast did as instructed, beginning to swoop downwards upon the rocky terrain before holding it's wings out broadly, stopping itself gently as its talons landed upon the ground. Khamul dismounted the creature, walking towards the encampment of his soldiers. Across grand tents of orange cloth and stables aplenty he marched, earning extensive salutes from every soldier he crossed.
"Hail the Khan!" they shouted, "Hail Sauron!".

Before long he had entered the tent of Yevvek D'jar, a great Rhunic General whom had been placed in command of this segment of the army. They conversed for some time, Khamul detailing to him the plans on which the General would have to carry out.

"You wish for me to expand our holdings North?" asked Yevvek, his eyes blinking slightly behind his immense golden helm.

"Yes" was the quick reply "A problem?"

"None, my sovereign. I shall send messengers detailing you of our successes"

Before the General could even blink, the immense cloth that served as a door had fluttered silently, detailing that the Khan had left. Now, in his solitude, General Yevvek began the plans for his men, and soon they began to march North into the unclaimed land between Rhun, Dale and the Dwarves.

The Mouth's Quest for Gongs and other Evil Instruments, like Tambourines
Rhun was a beautiful place, truly. Even the Mouth of Sauron thought this as his horse moved across the plains gracefully, only interrupted as the Mouth waved to the odd Easterling Patrol or Easterling Farmers cultivating their precious crops of melons, grapes, vegetables and other such delicacies. How he missed the wide plate of cuisine of Barad-Dur, but to his enjoyment he had been given a good amount of food by the Rhunic Patrols he met, for, why would they deny services to Sauron's Diplomat? He was thankful, but for now, he merely tightened his grip on his horse's reigns and continued his journey in the darkness of the Rhunic Night, the majestic Mountains of Rhun in sight.

The Lieutenant's horse trotted peacefully within the mountain passes of the Mountains of Rhun, like a missionary in a strange land the Mouth sought his convertees amongst the area around him. These Gongs, a brethren race of the Orcs had long been forgotten, there numbers devastated ever since the War of the Last Alliance. The Mouth thought as his grip tightened around the Rhunic Leather of his horse's reins, he yanked at them and caused the beast to enter an abrupt stop. After a quick check of his person, the Lieutenant dismounted his steed and commanded it to stay in this exact location until he returned. He grabbed his staff and set off into the mountain passes on accessible by foot, using his staff as a support as he walked the stony and jagged paths.
Eventually, after much travel through an unfamiliar land, he emerged upon a Gong Encampment, something he dubbed "Gong Town". Rapidly, he got to work and instantly proclaimed to the Gongs.
"Greetings noble and solitary Gongs! I am the Mouth of Sauron, his diplomat upon Arda and I ask you, fellow Creatures of Melkor, to join his ranks as we return Middle Earth to the true Free Peoples! What say you?"

by **Maineiacs** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 11:34 am

Bearon wrote:As Saruman searched the West for the presence of the ring all he figured out was that it did not reside in the far Southwest of Middle Earth. Knowing he would accomplish little else in his search for the ring with the time he had left he entered the courtyard of Isengard to inspect the now trained and armored troops. On his way to the barracks Saruman was pleased to see that work had progressed enough for the dam above Isengard to be completely finished with the orcs now having begun to construct great water wheels and engines that would harness the mighty power of the Isen. The fortifications around Isengard had been strenghthened as well. What had previously been ten foot thick and twenty feet high was now twice its previous height and width. As Saruman arrived at the Urak barraks he was surprised and pleased to see so many Uraks . The orcs work was progressing well. Grasping one particularly large and cunning looking Urak Saruman spoke to it in the orcish language saying "You are the strongest of your brethren and you look to be quite intelligent for an Urak-Hai." Saruman said "You will lead your brethren in an attack on the wizard Gandalf and take from him and those he has with him all the rings they have. The most important of these is a small golden ring. You will attack when a crow fly's onto your shoulder and whispers to you where he is. Your name from this day onward shall be Lurtz. Continue to grow train and grow stronger and all your desires shall be met. Now tell me who do you serve" The response was instantaneous" Saruman!" The Urak growled. Saruman smiled before asking "And what is your mission?" The Urak gave an evil grin and said "To destroy the wizard Gandalf and those travelling with him and take all their rings." As an afterthought he adds "The small golden ring is the most important." Saruman smiled as the Urak was even smarter than he had first thought. Saruman then turned to the store house and said in a soft yet commanding voice "Grima come here." The voice itself was like like honey yet also demanded that the listener submit as it reverberated throughout Isengard.

Results: Dam of the Isen river completed. Fortifications under continued construction and improvement. Tunnels under continued expansion. Recruited 250 Urak-Hai 250 Orcs and 100 Wargriders.

Wormtongue could feel the words echo in his head. The same voice that had been whispering to him in his head, and even in his sleep for three years. He approached Saruman and, with a low bow, said "I live but to serve, my Lord."

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 11:56 am

The Black Gate of the Morannon, Mordor

As the chittering forms of the spider-messengers came closer, they encountered a patrol of Uruks near the great doors of the Black Land. Told by the Uruks that one of the Nine waited within, they made their way to one of the Towers of the Teeth, and there a black hooded figure stood conferring with his commanders and captains. As the Ringwraith noticed the large beasts of the former Greenwood approaching, he dismissed the Orcs and men with a wave of his hand, and they departed, bowing out of the chamber in turn. Eventually all were gone, and the Nazgul turned, stretching out a hand clad in black steel to take the scroll from the spider bearing it. He cracked the seal, and with sightless eyes perused it. Once it was furled once more, the contents digesting within what passed for his soul, a low hiss came from its mouth. The room where the messengers and the Nazgul stood felt hot of a sudden; the gaze of Sauron was upon them, fell and terrible, and the very weight of his presence was as a cloying cloak of lead. Eventually it passed, and the Nazgul stood straight once more, speaking in the twisted language that was the Black Speech.

"My lord is glad to hear of others who share the freedom that is indolent in Lord Melkor's gaze. He does, however, have one revision; his armies require vast stores of ore and iron to arm and armor, and as such he would see the Mountains of Mirkwood too entered in to his dominion, once the wretched Silvan Elves have been reduced to bones and dust upon the wind. In compensation for such rich ground, he would send breeding stock of his mighty Olog-Hai to Gonurl, most wise lord of the Spiders, so that the forces of darkness that mass beneath the eaves of the forest may have the strength to breach even the greatest of fortifications."

The Nazgul paused, then nodded as if to itself.

"The Great Eye also sees that you lack for friends in the north; he bids you look to the men of Rhun, who are reliable and whose hands are strong with hate for our foes. They could be valuable allies in your conquests to come."

Banks of the Anduin, East Osgiliath

As the few archers in the rocking boats began to fire back at the Orcs, a few of the Morgul Snaga were hit, and fell off of the rubble and towers they had been firing from. They were very few in number though, the unlucky souls; firing against a foe in cover and through the dark of the night, they might as well have simply been aiming their bows at random, for even the faint light of the moon was not near enough for the eyes of men to pick out their foes, save those few Orcs who stood near braziers, bravely firing arrows lit aflame to illuminate the enemy for their fellows. With nearly two thousand archers along the banks of the Great River, their dark-accustomed Orcish eyes easily picking out the drifting ships, it was a target practice of which even the littlest Orc could only dream. As the enemy raised their cumbersome shields, some arrows were deflected, others weighing down the shields as they became embedded in the embossed wood. But more too found their targets, for shields could only cover so much of an angle, and on the rocking landing craft making any type of shield wall was a losing battle. In the glare of the flying fire arrows the Orcs continued their rain of death, and concentrated their fire on the ships near the shore, where the foe could either die as they disembarked with an arrow to the head, or try to defend from above while fighting before. Their elevation in the ruined towers of Osgiliath was a great asset indeed.

Upon the broken quays and piers of Osgiliath the Orcs had massed in their hundreds, some trolls with them, and through the dim light they could see the landing craft of the foe approaching. Wicked light glinted on fangs and weapons as the moon picked them out in stark relief, and many of the Morgul twisted folk bayed in anticipation, ready to slay the hated men of Gondor and turn the Great River red with their blood. Their numbers were many thousands, far greater than that of the small landing parties, and they readied to rush upon the foe, standing behind rubble and ruined walls, eager for combat.

Upon the bridge above the catapults had cut a few holes in the enemy ranks, and with the crumbling of the bridge the enemy was slowed down and packed into a tight corridor, their disciplined formation wavering as they rushed to get to grips with their enemies. This the Orcs of Mordor exploited ruthlessly, the hail of arrows continuing from all angles along the shoreline towards the dreadfully exposed Gondorians. Shafts took men in the side as they raised their shields against the descending volleys from behind the wall, and men slumped bonelessly or screaming as arrows buried themselves in necks and arms as they thought to protect their sides from attack. Ahead the wall that barred the passage of the bridge rose tall and foreboding in the night, as high as three men standing upon each other's shoulders. A few of their enemy now the men of the West could see, slavering Orc archers perched upon its top, firing cruel shafts towards their lines. From behind the wall they were greeted by the sound of chanting in the Black Speech, and occasionally bellows of trolls that froze the blood of even the stoutest.

And still the catapults fired, the heavy rocks flaming with red and yellow through the air, aimed for the densely packed masses of men upon the bridge. They had found their range now, and their fury was great to behold. Above all the Nazgul stooped, plowing into a boat in the water and snatching up two men with its talons. The craft overturned, sending the heavily armored men to swim to the bottom of the river, drowning and clawing for air. A shadow against the blackness it was, barely visible in the night sky, moving faster than the wind.

Cair Andros

The works had been reinforced, and an Orc pit delved deep under the Isle of Foam. Now the forces of Mordor held in earnest another passage into the lands of Gondor, one the black shape that winged overhead would exploit to the fullest. With a small garrison left to hold the back door to Gondor open for more evil to pass in, the host marched out from the isle. Orcs in their legions, trolls of great strength, even some siege equipment, though there was little call for it. Rick and cot they burned, looting and pillaging as they went. The humble farm folk of Anorien fled or fell before them, for no soldiers stood to oppose the passing of the host of the Great Eye. Sauron would have his war, and the Men of the West would perish utterly.

Eastern Emyn Muil

The great stone heads of the Argonath had been tumbled; the Orcs seemed to take almost fiendish delight in tearing down the artifacts of their bitterest of foes. No longer would the ancient kings bar the passage of the Anduin to the enemies of the folk of Numenor. The White City would burn, for the Great Eye was stronger even than the strength that still remained in men, fading, failing. Upon the seat of Amon Lhaw was a great fortress being raised, stretching in its fastnesses along the banks of Nen Hithel all the way to the immense stone ramparts of the Argonath. Crude was its working now, little more than barricades and towers of wood hewn from the surrounding forests by legions of Orcs, but in time it would grow to a fastness indeed, a cancer upon the face of Middle-Earth. To the south and east, back towards the Dead Marshes, through the many craggy hills of the Emyn Muil, ran the Black Road. It had been completed in the far away fens of the fallen, reinforced by pilings of stone and paved with dark basalt, and now many laborers and beasts worked to extend it towards the new holdings of the Dark Lord. Also out into the lake extended for a few feet a great bridge, wide enough for twenty to march abreast, which the many engineers and craftsmen of the Barad-Dur were raising slowly but surely.

Eastern Dagorlad

Dusty, dry. Those were the words that came to mind when one contemplated the eastern section of the Dagorlad, where the fens and groves of the Dead Marshes gave way to the rolling hillocks and deep brown grass of Rhun. North of the Ered Lithui, and south and west still of the peaks of the Mountains of the East, the captain of men could see few areas to raise a hold for the Dark Lord here. The distant cloud-enshrouded peaks of Rhun would be better, but that would leave all the land from here to Rangorim open to the passes of any who walked this land, and that could not be borne. Eventually he settled on a small hillock, a foothill of the Ash Mountains, and the Orcs under his command set to work. Few and sparse were the trees in this region, but their tools were sharp yet, and the bones of the mountains would do in fair stead for the normal wooden encampment that would be raised. Deep into the earth under the foothill too did some of his Uruks delve, and with dark enchantments his sorcerer laid the first seeds of many more Orcs to come.

by **Xelryion Curvgfann** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 12:18 pm

East Osgiliath

The soldiers on the bridge had no choice but to try and retreat as the soldiers rushed to the other side, jumping over broken parts of the bridge, leaving behind their heavy shields that would weigh them down on the jumps, but some fell, not reaching the other sides. Meanwhile, in the waters, the boats that had not landed yet had sailed around back to West Osgiliath, knowing this was going to be a failed battle. But to the boats that had already landed, they would have to stay behind and survive. The men in the landed boats made a last stand. "For Gondor! Take back our lands!" A soldier shouted as the men who landed charged into the fray, being shot by arrows, many fell, but many still fought, trying to slay as many orcs as they could before they died. For the men on the bridge, it was a living hell. They were constantly being pursued by arrows and the catapult rocks, killing soldiers as they fled.

Minas Tirith, The White City

Denethor had gotten reports what was happening in Northern Gondor and Osgiliath. He was weighed down by this terrible information. Minas Tirith was next to be attacked. He had to get allies, but with Rohan dealing with the Dunlendings, he knew he couldn't ask for aid, even since King Theoden was not in good conditions. He began a draft, making all-bodied men trained, armored, and prepared for war. This would be Gondor's test of will, and test of strength. If Gondor could not win now, it could not win ever.

by **The Starlight** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 1:02 pm

The entourage of Lady Galadriel had traveled long and hard in the night to reach the High Pass. However, as the scouts crept sneakily forward, they noticed many orc tracks in the area. Investigating further, the elves' sharp eyes spotted a small sign scrawled lightly on the mountain side, one that only an elf would be able to spot. Hurrying back quickly, they reported their findings.
"Lady Galadriel, there is evidence that the orcs are in the High Pass and infested at least some of the area!
It's a trap!!" One scout said.
"Then I will not be able to get to Rivendell that way. We dare not try Caradhras or Moria due to Durin's Bane." Galadriel mused. At the name of Moria, the world seem to fall under a little more shadow.
"We could try the gap of Rohan, My lady!" said one of the guards.
"But it would take too long and Dunland would not be welcoming. Very well, we must head back to Lorien and I must take council on this things. This is grave news. I foresee danger to Lorien, I must consult the Mirror" said Galadriel.
Dejected, the entourage quickly retraced their steps, and after erasing their own light tracks, headed back to Lorien.

Meanwhile, Celeborn was overseeing the training of the Galadhrim warriors. They would be needed in the dark times ahead.The warriors fired arrow after arrow into their targets for several hours. After that, they improved their tracking and practiced their swordsmanship, not the strongest point of the Galadhrim. However, they were improving with time. Next he met with the architects that had designed the high talans of Lorien to create fortification and two medium fortress facing Dol Guldur and Moria. The constructions had already begun and the fortifications included traps and ambush points, rock slides and more. The homes in the trees of Lothlorien were also fortified, each of them being supplied with ladders to pull up in case of invasions and small tree forts that would be unseen by any enemies. These would be finished within the month. The construction of the averagely sized forts to keep an eye on Dol Guldur and Moria had already begun, but those would take much longer, despite the elves' best efforts. They would have a barracks with a medium garrison of archers and spearmen to be the vanguard against any invasions. The ten elves dispatched to the Entmoot had returned unsuccessfully and had failed to acquire an alliance with the firmly neutral Ents through Treebeard. Treebeard had also chuckled when the elves requested to drink the Ent-draught. However, he allowed them to do so, but no changes occurred in the elves' physique or abilities. 2 secret bases had been established in Fangorn Forest and construction of 2 more was starting.

When Galadriel returned to Lothlorien a few days later, she reported her failure to reach the White Council. Then she consulted her mirror and saw the attacks on Gondor and the destruction of the stone heads of the Argonath and the construction of a great fortress on the banks of Nen Hithel. The Free Peoples of Middle-Earth had to be informed, but the way into the West was blocked. One lone messenger was bid to take the fastest horse out of the tiny and almost empty stables to travel to Rivendell through Rohan.

With the addition of these grave happenings, construction was doubled and rations, including lembas bread were stocked up. More elves volunteered to join the Galadhrim every day, but Middle-Earth would have to be united to face this threat.

Summary

by **Bearon** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 1:58 pm

Saruman gestured for Wormtongue to rise before saying "I have a mission for you Grima, one of utmost importance. The wizard Gandalf is being tracked by my spies and when he gains possession of certain items I desire he will be tracked down by my Uraks and the items I desire will be taken off his body. To prevent suspicion from being aroused in our enemies I will have the Uraks travel to the Northern wildernesses and give the items to you. You will ride back to Isengard and give the items in turn to me. Do this and you shall be greatly rewarded. You will be alerted of the time and location of the meeting by one of my crows. Do you understand Wormtongue?"

by **Limborg** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 3:57 pm

Gate of Khazad-Dûm
Dwalin had finally arrived at Khazad-Dûm, however things where not how they seemed, he had an odd feeling when he walked up to the gate.
He walked into the once great fortress, on guard he walked around. It seemed abandoned, but he was going in anyways. His brother Balin woudl be there somewhere...

Rhûn
The lands of Rhûn had mostly been empty, Thorin was only days away from the Red Mountains and with that the first of the four strongholds. It seemed to be like ages. There was nothing in these lands, just plains, plains and more plains...

by **Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 4:06 pm

“Greetings, my old friends. Cirdan, it has been far too long”

Gandalf truly felt happy, which could be read from his face by almost any creature. His eyes were narrowed, his voice was deep and trustworthy, and his hands were warm in their greeting. At Cirdan’s mention, he looked down, and smiled. He continued in his perfect Sindarin, a language he had mastered over the last two thousand years on Middle Earth.

“And I thank you for it, mellon. If it hadn’t been for your ring, the enemy might have had control over a firedrake as far as we know.”

He sat down at Elrond’s table, and removed his hat. His mood darkened, quite disturbingly. His eyes grew from pleasant slits, indicating happiness and glee, to the round blue orbs they were when troubled. He looked from Cirdan to Elrond, taking them up entirely, and scanning them for clues on the current situation. Often, asking a question was not necessary if one knew body language. Gandalf had, like always, a few questions for his friend which he could not answer himself. The first and foremost was about the current political climate in Middle Earth. Gandalf had been keeping a low profile as of late, to deter the enemy from launching a savage strike at his life. Now, he needed to get back into the game with all his might.

“My lord Elrond, forgive my curiosity. What news from the West and East? I have heard terrible rumours of the Easterlings, as well as from the Misty Mountains and from Edoras. The enemy seems to be preparing his forces, if these rumours are to be believed.”

After asking that, another question popped to mind, following the words he had heard Elrond speak on his arrival.

“Master Peredhil, what did you mean by pursuers? I have told no-one where I was headed, and I came straight from Isengard. I discussed matters of East with Saruman, matters for the White Council. It seems it has been called upon already? What news has made you make that call?”

by **Bearon** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 5:24 pm

Hundin Fleetfoot son of Harcus who had been named for his exceeding quickness for a dwarf laughed heartily at his friends from the Iron Hills request and agreed to the meeting as soon as he'd assembled his entourage. In his heart though he worried for his people due the increasing goblin attacks and wondered if these dwarves might aid him and his people in the extermination of the goblin menace. Shaking away the thoughts from his head he walked towards the meeting room determined to be gracious to his dwarvern brethren despite the dwarves of the Blue Mountains own problems.

Results: Recruited 400 Dwarves.

by **Shaggai** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 5:25 pm

Mordor

The messengers considered Sauron's offer. Would Gonurl accept, were he here? The mountains were a valuable resource, but on the other hand Olog-Hai were more valuable to the spiders. They knew that Gonurl was increasing the size of his army in preparation for invasions. They chittered among themselves, finally reaching a decision. "We accept", the leader rasped. "We will return to our leader with the Olog-Hai. In return, you may have the iron of the mountains."

Othronn Ungol

In the network of caverns under Mirkwood, there are caves used for many purposes. There is the great cavern of Othronn Ungol, in which the spiders gather. There are storerooms, nurseries in which new spiders are born, personal caves in which the spiders live, and so on. One wing is reserved for the army: barracks, armories, training rooms, and all the things needed to keep a standing army functioning. In one of them, Gonurl surveyed his army. They were getting numerous now, almost enough to assault the elven forces.

by **Relikai** » Tue Jun 24, 2014 7:04 pm

The wargs chased the Rangers across the woodland, but such pursuit has been anticipated. In the dark forests, a line of three Rangers atop trees fired at the first wargs, as two other on the flanks fired as well. The priority was to put their arrows into the wargs, the goblins and orcs could be dealt with later. Forming a semi-circle, the Rangers fired several volleys before dropping scent-maskers. These maskers which substitute the Dunedain scent with something else, are not 100% effective against the keen nose of a Warg, but hopefully is sufficiently enough for the Company to relocate.

Anaheim arrived at Edoras, Rohan, requesting an Audience with the current leader of the Golden Hall. The Ranger came with the purpose of informing Rohan about the new shadow cast from the North - Isengard, and the wild advances of Dunland.

Captain Cavalrahdm has returned to the Dunedain Camp. Gathering a new Company of Rangers, the Green Company left the camp and headed East with extra horses, towards Dol Guldur.

Recruitment : 9 Dunedain Fighters, 7 Dunedain Rangers @ Dunedain Camp

Total :
Individual - Anaheim(Rohan), Halbarad(Shire)
Green Company - 10 Rangers, 10 Fighters, 35 Horses, Cavalrahdm
Grey Company - 9 Rangers, 3 Fighters
Camp - 30 Rangers, 50 Fighters, Arathil

by **Maineiacs** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 8:50 am

"And until then, I should continue my efforts on your behalf in Meduseld?" said Wormtongue. "I will, my Lord. My Lord, if I may ask, what is this item you seek from Gandalf? Is it some weapon you think will aid you?" Wormtongue was uncertain whether he should be honored or worried by Saruman's trust. He could draw some consolation from the fact that Saaruman had not expected Wotmtongue himself to confront Gandalf; if the Uruks failed, it would be on their heads -- so much the better for Wormtongue's own esteem in the Master's eye. It was so much easier to sit back and let others do the dirty work. That suited Wormtongue's style much better.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 11:23 am

Banks of the Anduin, East Osgiliath

As the enemy turned, looking death in the face and blanching from the fate of Men, the Orcs of Mordor gave a harsh yell. The bridge of the Stars was littered with the broken bodies of fallen soldiers, some still stumbling and falling as they were hit by the cruel Orc arrows even as they fled their foe. Eventually, though, the forces of Gondor had disappeared once more into the ruins and buildings of Western Osgiliath, and the archers held their shafts. Put to the test, they had passed it, and the Westrons were beaten back. On the river below some of the clumsy boats returned towards the western shore, still under fire from those strong archers the forces of the Great Eye had amidst their ranks. Full of the dead and the dying they were, for the sheer volume of arrows the Orcs had sent against the foe had wrecked a fearful toll despite the poor training of the individual Morgul Orc.

Below the towers and the ramparts where the archers stood the last few soldiers that had made it to the eastern bank of the Great River lay dying, or wounded. Scattered by the current in their drifting rough craft, they had come ashore rarely more than twenty in one place, only to face hundreds of Orcs ready for blood. In some places no bodies remained, having been hurled into the river by a swing of a great troll's spiked club. Many Orcs too lay dead, for the men of Numenorean blood were not easily slain, but the battle was clearly theirs. One Orc in particular walked through the site of a skirmish, and took a large spear from one of his subordinates that walked with him. At his feet lay a soldier of Gondor, choking on his own blood, lungs pierced by two arrows. With a heavy downwards stroke the Orc planted it in the chest of the man, and with a gurgling gasp the white-haired soldier lay still, his eyes now seeing nothing ever more.

Gothmog smiled.

"The age of men is over. The time of the Orc has come."

About him other twisted creatures laughed and snarled.

Angfalch, Passes of the Dead Marshes

The stone walls of the newly-rising outpost were beginning to be foreboding, or at least it seemed to be that way to the great host marching west and south. At their head wheeled the leathery shape of one of the beasts of the Ringwraiths, and the companies of Orcs and Uruks were immense in their numbers, blotting out the Black Road beneath them. The endless drumming of hobnailed boots on basalt was a nightmare rhythm that if the foes of Mordor could have heard it... well, they would have spent the rest of their days sailing west as quickly as possible. It was an army bred for a single purpose; to destroy the world of men. Trolls, as strong as the bones of the mountains, catapults ready to tear down the edifices of the ancients, Orcs with cruel faces and sharp swords. All to destroy the world of men. It was a fitting reminder to see the marshes of the dead about them as they marched, to recall the immense battle that had laid low the forces of Darkness before. Revenge, that would the Dark Lord have, revenge paid back a hundred-fold.

Amon Lanc, Dol Guldur

Through the woods the wargs and marching Orcs pursued their foes, the low underbrush of the place buying only a little bit of time for the pursued, when suddenly three of the lead beasts snarled and yelped, one pitching forward and the other two growling in pain. More arrows came from the trees, striking some more beasts from above, but then the wargs were upon the enemy they had been chasing. Rarthal saw them now; no wood-elves were these, but men, garbed and cloaked in gray. Strange, but his mind pushed past it in a moment. They were fighting him, and that meant they would die. Though their kin in the forest-tops were devilishly good shots, the great wolves were fast beasts, faster even in this dense terrain than the steeds of men. Only a rabbit could have outrun the snarling jaws of the wolves. Another creature fell snapping, and the leader of the pack saw some packages fall from their perches. As he leapt over the bundle near him, the claws of the wolf swinging towards an unfortunate soul who was still on the ground, a pungent odor of spices filled his nostrils. Ah, accursed scent, but the wolves were too many. Dozens now coursed through the forest, some snapping at men they had caught, or breaking necks with paws the size of heads with a single swipe of their claws. And behind came the sound of marching Orcs, still slightly distant, but less than a mile behind. They were in their numbers, leaving no gaps in their ranks, to flush out their quarry.

Back in the depths of the dark fortress that watched over this land, the lord of the citadel stood watching some Snaga laborers cranking a large stone block into place in the rising outer wall. It was old, partially derelict in places, but it was being raised anew for so his master bid him do. Scouts had brought in word of the foul elves of Lorien, that accursed Golden Wood, had taken to try their hand at stonework near the eastern borders of their realm. Well, two could play at that game. He ordered some Orcs forth in their numbers, to build a fortress facing theirs over the Great River, in the vicinity of the Gladden Fields.

The Black Gate, Morannon, Mordor

After several hours, the Olog-Hai marched out of the gate, to travel north with the spider kin. Six of the stolid beasts there were, fell and powerful, and they feared neither light nor pain. With the moving of his master's armies to war, the Nazgul was needed elsewhere. With the alliance with the Spiders sealed, he called his winged terror to him with a shriek that froze bone, and took to the skies. A harbinger he was, a sign of the doom of men.

by **Liecthenbourg** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 11:55 am

North-West of the Forests of Rhun, Logath
As the mighty legions of Rhun marched clad in armour gold and cloth brown, fearsome war horns sounded as the rhythmic sound of metallic boots stepping upon the dirt road continued. For miles and miles down the road Rhunic Soldiers marched, their faces solemn and their weapons baying for blood. At the front, rear and sides trotted the various cavalry regiments brought along with the army, their horses large, armoured and majestic creatures who too hungered for battle and blood.
General Yevvek D'jar was at the front of the force as well, his golden armour gleaming the sun off of him and creating a mighty cascade of light upon his person as he trotted through the land. Behind him marched the first column of infantry, at their front officers and a mighty flag bearer with the symbol of Rhun held high, but above it and open a black banner fluttered the Red Eye of Sauron, for the men of Rhun valued their ally and friend to a position of reverence, Sauron was their hope to right the wrongs done to them by the men of the west. Soon they reached the banks of the Ulunmur at the point in which it met with the River Redwater and soon the men got to work.

"Here!" Yevvek D'jair said with glee as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Here will be the site of our fortification!" As day turned to night and ere the sun set in the distance, the men of Rhun laboured intensely to build a mighty bastion of Rhun, one that would be her shield and spear upon the lands beyond the Ulunmur

The Mountains of Rhun
As their counterparts to the North, the second army of Rhun marched, not through forests or dirt roads, but through the passes and valleys of the Mountains of Rhun. The Army was led by General Tobru Carzt, a man of no remorse and immense bravery, once said to have charged ahead of his men whilst wielding the banner of Rhun across the River Running, during a small skirmish with several bands of brigands. Now, he led the Rhunic Force of over 20,000 into the Mountains for an incursion into the heartlands of it, to construct a mighty fortress to be able to consolidate their grasp upon the mountains and their resources. With tools in their hands and determination in their hearts, the men of Rhun began to labour, using the nearby stone to build their mighty citadel.

The Mountains of Rhun

The base creatures that the Mouth had come upon scattered here and there, some taking up bows, some short spears, all speaking with harsh words and some in a state of panic. How he had managed to slip past the sentries, the noble Gongs knew not! Oh great distress and terror! Assuredly a foreigner of different climes could not pass the most honorable and powerful and watchful guards of Gongton, as their encampment was named in their words. (In truth, their sentries were lazy, asleep, screwing, drunk, or all four at once. A puzzlement, really.) But even as cruel black-fletched shafts were pointed towards the man with the iron mask, on bows of uncommonly good worksmanship, an old and phenomenally muscular (for that was how one grew to be old amongst the Gongs) soldier approached the Mouth, his spear not pointed aggressively. He remembered a time, many years ago, when the name of Melkor had been held in respect, the greatest Lord of Middle-Earth and all Arda. They still worshipped the Avatar of the Night, the Last Shadow, here in Gongton. And this man spoke of such things, he too of Sauron, one time servant and the Forge-Lord of the pantheon of the Gongs.

With slow sonorous speech, which the Mouth could follow barely, being a dialect of the Black-Speech of antiquity, the aged Gong spoke, fingering his spear.

"Many years has it been since the name of Melkor the most wise and powerful has been spoken by those not of our kin, outlander, called the Mouth of the Lord of Craft by his own lips. Why do you speak it anew? Does night come, is light to be put away again? Long have we hungered for battle, and war, and man-flesh."

Nods went around the archers, and some bows were lowered. Blood, fire, combat, that they craved. Not the puny living they scraped off of raiding the men of Dorwinion and Dale to the north. Glory was not had in that, nor power.

The Gong raised his chin. "Prove to me your worth, if the Mouth of Sauron you be. We will hear your words in council, if you retrieve the Blades Black that were stolen from the Highest Gong years ago by the filthy stinking north-men. Mighty weapons they are, forged by the smiths of Ungband itself to slay elves, drink their pathetic lives, split their flowery skulls with the best steel. Return with the three, and we shall hear of this war on the Free Peoples. (Thank you G-Tech

)

The Mouth's smile widened immensely and he nodded at the request of the Elder Gong.

"I shall return with these Blades Black, rest that assured. As Sauron's Voice upon Arda, my words carry the weight to sway the fate of this land."

With that said, the Mouth departed from the peculiar area known as Gongtown. Walking back through the stony and jagged passes with the full heat of the Rhunic Sun upon him he eventually returned back to the main valley pass, where his steed had been awaiting for him. No sooner than by mid-day had the Mouth set off once more, travelling North to Dorwinion to retrieve the Blades Black. Gold and promises would be used, for the hearts of men were like that of Dwarves, filled with greed and with a lust for security.

by **Elerian** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 12:51 pm

~Isengard, Katla~

Katla landed on a large outcrop that overlooked Isengard. She had heard of the wizard that dwelt here, however the orc stench that emanated from below was something unexpected. This meant the wizard was dead or had been corrupted by evil. Those could be the only two reasons for this. Katla did not want a fight so she took flight. She could sense powerful magic at work, though she knew not what. And with that she flew back towards her cave.

When she eventually reached the cave Katla saw several mangled goblin bodies strewn about. Fear gripped Katla for a moment as she thought of her clutch. Quickly she brushed past the entrance to the cave and went deeper into the cave where she could hear a commotion. After several moments she found the intruders. Two large mountain trolls stood side by side facing off against her clutch and the rest of her goblin underlings. Katla gave a roar to draw their attention. As the two trolls turned to face her an idea popped into Katla’s mind. She blew enough fire to strike fear in them and singe some hairs and used her powers of persuasion as she spoke. “Your choice is simple, join me or die. If you prove yourself useful you will be given a treasure beyond what you could get yourselves.” She waited to see what they would do and after a few seconds the first troll dropped his club. The second troll quickly followed suit and from that point on the trolls were hers to command.

She set the trolls to cleaning up the mess they had wrought upon her home. And Katla sent the goblins to making a breeding pit so that they might replace those that were lost and hopefully breed a small army for Katla. But the dragon had something on her mind. She had heard of a great dragon hoard in the north. The dragon had since been killed but the treasure was still there in the hands of some greedy little Dwarves and it was time to take it from them. Katla waited a day to let the Goblins get some work done and to let the trolls recover from any wounds suffered. When they were healed and ready Katla set out with the Trolls and ten goblins. Her destination; the Blue Mountains.

by **The Starlight** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 1:25 pm

Caras Galadhon

As the sun rose the elves of Lothlorien continued in their work to combat the growing evil whose onslaught would soon arrive. Below the mallorn trees of Caras Galadhon, Celeborn continued to oversee the training of the Galadhrim warriors. Since Galadriel was not able to get to Rivendell, she had looked into the past with her mirror and had observed the Noldorian elves at the Battle of the Last Alliance with Haldir, Orophin and several other Lothlorien generals. The tactics of the Noldorian elves were copied by the Galadhrim and replicated, to be used in battle. Also, the secrets to the Noldorian plate armor had been found through Galadriel's knowledge from the First Age and further observation of the Battle. Immediately, production had started of the plate armor using some of the iron stored from the clearing of the Mirrormere and a few more plains. Haldir and the Wardens had also reported that the orcs of Dol Guldur had also started to build a fort in response to the elves' attempt at their own fort near the hill of Cerin Amroth. However, the building of the fortress facing Moria had not been seen by the Enemy so far. The building of both fortress was going smoothly and the elves building had been able to work through the night with some help from Galadriel and the moon. It was approximated that the fortresses would be finished in several months. Also in Caras Galadhon, the pantries were completely filled with enough food to last the elves a year in case of a siege. More food was packed into each of the talans as well.

Training Field near Caras Galadhon
The Galadhrim warriors had started to practice the long forgotten tactics of the Noldorian elves. 50 warriors stood in a straight line with their newly forged katana-like swords and shields. Stepping forward, they practiced several slashes against the dummies and then retreated ten paces. Behind them, 100 Galadhrim archers stepped forward and sent 5 arrows each sailing towards the mock orcs.
Seamlessly the archers stepped back into the ranks of 75 Galadhrim warriors, these ones with spears and kite shaped shields that allocated for spear thrusts. Stepping forward, they raised their shields and thrusted towards the "orcs," repeatedly poking at each orc and retreating behind their shields before thrusting again. After doing this several times, they divided in two and stepped to the left and right, creating a channel through which 50 Galadhrim swordsmen charged with their swords drawn and practiced several more techniques revealed from the Noldor. Meanwhile, the spearmen had taken out their short swords and flanked the 'orcs' , also attacking. When the exercise was complete, none of the dummies had 'survived' the Elven onslaught. Nodding to himself, Celeborn motioned for the generals to train their groups seperatedly in swordsmanship, spearing and slashing. Later they would reconvene to practice other maneuvers and continue to perfect this exercise.

Near Cerin Amroth, Building site of the Eastern Fort
The building of the Eastern Fort was going well. The building supervisor signaled for a water break before taking a walk around the would be battlements. The wall was being raised slowly but surely as the workers built in the Elven fashion. The walls would be strong and tall, with a high tower at each corner of the wall to spot enemies. Inside, the barracks were being built, with enough food and big enough to host a garrison of 350 elves. There was also a small training field for the garrison. Also inside the fort a strategy room and an emergency bunker was being built. If the walls were taken, the garrison would retreat into the keep that contained the barracks, strategy room and the bunker. There was also a emergency secret tunnel being built back to the forest for a retreat. However, dwarves, not elves were better suited underground and any elf would be reluctant to use it unless it was a matter of life or death. He estimated that the walls and the battlements would be finished in about 3 to 4 months. However, the time might be shortened with the elves working through the night, as elves rarely needed sleep and had superior vision. After 5 minutes of the water break, the supervisor signaled for the work to continue as elves nimbly climbed the scaffolding to build the walls. The fortress might soon be tested by the forces of evil, and it would have to be a bulwark and a strong wall for the elves of Lorien.

Near the building site of the Western Fortress
The building site was going slower than that of the Eastern Fort. The fort had to be able to withstand a long siege and be fire- resistant to Durin's Bane. However, no such fortress had been ever built, so the elves were simply building the inner walls and the keep, which would have the same components as the keep of the Eastern fort. Perhaps Gandalf, being an expert in all things of fire, might be able to help when the passes were cleared of the orcs. The fort was being built by the banks of the Mirrormere, or Kheled-zâram as the dwarves named it. The fortress would inevitably be the sight of the attack of the elves on Moria or the attack of the Balrog. It was vitally important that the fortress would hold.

In the trees in Lothlorien
Haldir and his wardens continued patrolling the borders of Lothlorien. After sweeping the borders of the great forest, Haldir and his wardens practiced ambushing any invading orcs with their arrows. After 7 volleys of arrows, they would swing down using elven rope and commence fighting with any other orcs, if it was a small band of them. The ambushes would slow down the orcs if they attacked Lorien. They then practiced foraging, stealth and what to do if a warden was seperated from his allies in the course of an attack. 30 more wardens had joined the ranks of Haldir's vanguard. All of them were already expert marksmen, as many elves were. 15 of the wardens with Orophin would be sent to the new outposts in Fangorn Forest to join with the 10 Galadhrim already there. Rúmil would take the rest of the remaining newly recruited Wardens under his command.

In Fangorn Forest
The 4 small outposts completed with the help of the Ents. Tired, the elves settled down and rested before practicing contigency plans and tactics if the forest was invaded. The Lorien elves had successfully added the northern part of Fangorn Forest to their borders and were careful not to cross the Limlight which signified the beginning of Rohan. Lying in between them and Lorien, was Parth Celebrant, where the famous battle of the Field of Celebrant had taken place. The next target was Parth Celebrant to link Fangorn Forest and Lothlorien.

The Plains of Rohan
The Elven emissary sent to Rohan continued to ride through the plains of Rohan to Edoras, to purchase some horses for the Elves. It was a lonely but urgent journey, so the messenger rode hard through the night. He had reached the outskirts of the Wold after crossing the Limlight and was riding through the West Emnet. Hopefully he would return with enough horses to form a cavalry unit of Lorien.

Recruitment

by **Limborg** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 2:55 pm

Red Mountains, Stonefoots fortress
Thorin III Stonehelm finally arrived at his destination. His first clan wich he was going to visit. He himself had figured out in wich order he was going to visit the four dwarvenclans, this was very important since they all needed a different approach.
The Stonefoots where known for their great weapons and armour, even amongst the dwarves. They where also the richest clan in the lands of Rhûn and they had the best relations with Erebor.
Thorin walked up the stairs and straight to a guard, "I'm Thorin III Stonehelm, son of Dáin II Ironfoot; I'm here to consult with your lord" He said.

by **Bearon** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 7:58 pm

Maineiacs wrote:"And until then, I should continue my efforts on your behalf in Meduseld?" said Wormtongue. "I will, my Lord. My Lord, if I may ask, what is this item you seek from Gandalf? Is it some weapon you think will aid you?" Wormtongue was uncertain whether he should be honored or worried by Saruman's trust. He could draw some consolation from the fact that Saaruman had not expected Wotmtongue himself to confront Gandalf; if the Uruks failed, it would be on their heads -- so much the better for Wormtongue's own esteem in the Master's eye. It was so much easier to sit back and let others do the dirty work. That suited Wormtongue's style much better.

Saruman smiled saying "If I gain possesion of this weapon and master it completely no longer will we have to hide in the shadows. You shall receive your long awaited prize as will I. Sadly it is not yet in our possession so I must make haste to Imaldris. The item in question is a small golden ring among others though it is the most important of them. Continue your work in Meduseld till the signal is given." Saruman said as he mounted a horse and took off with great speed towards The Last Homely House.

by **Bearon** » Wed Jun 25, 2014 8:09 pm

Limborg wrote:Blue Mountains
Gimli and Glóin followed Hundin to a room, "we bring disturbing news my friend" Glóin said while he sat down and grabbed some food. "The shadows of Mordor are rising again, growing larger and larger, moving closer to our homes. He did not only survive, he grew stronger..." he then said.
"Dáin has made preperations for any situation, and while we have no intrests in allying with these kinds of powers, we do have to be carefull with them. Dáin sees this as an oppertunity. We wish to take this chance to reclaim the Grey Mountains and Gundabad, our anciant homes, our holy places. If we want to make sure that our dying population survives, we need to expand back to our glorydays!"
Glóin got caught up in his speech so much that he nearly choked into a chickenbone. Gimli on the other hand just stood there, drinking beer in a corner.

Red Mountains, Stonefoots fortress
Thorin III Stonehelm finally arrived at his destination. His first clan wich he was going to visit. He himself had figured out in wich order he was going to visit the four dwarvenclans, this was very important since they all needed a different approach.
The Stonefoots where known for their great weapons and armour, even amongst the dwarves. They where also the richest clan in the lands of Rhûn and they had the best relations with Erebor.
Thorin walked up the stairs and straight to a guard, "I'm Thorin III Stonehelm, son of Dáin II Ironfoot; I'm here to consult with your lord" He said.

Hundin stroked his beard in thought. "I agree that something must be done to prevent the orcs and goblins from defiling our ancient homelands but if we fully commit to an assault against them and lose the dwarves will be crippled even further then they are now. Great planning must go into this and I am afraid even then the dwarves the Blue Mountain can only send a small portion of their forces due to the increasing goblin attacks from the Blue Mountains. If you were to clear out the mountains surrounding us of hostile forces the dwarves of the Blue Mountains could give you their full support of 10,000 troops with only 5,000 remaining to defend oue lands from any attacking force. As it is we may only spare 5,000 troops to the great dwarvern army being assembled."

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Thu Jun 26, 2014 10:24 am

South Vale of Mirkwood

The Great River, here smaller and fed by many mountain springs, burbled past the Orc encampment. Sentries watched the frothing flows in this shallow land, their eyes keen even beneath the harsh sun for any signs of the movement of the folk of the Golden Wood. Far away to the west, barely visible beyond the fens about the Anduin, a small pile of stone blocks could be made out. A few foundations had been laid, as the outriders had reported, and the laborers were making haste to mirror the vile Elves and build beyond them. Many were the hands compared to those of the folk of Galadriel, the elf-witch, and though they built not of stone for its inaccessibility and the need to drag it all the way from Dol Guldur, wood was plentiful indeed this close to the eaves of Mirkwood. Already a rough wooden pallisade of limbed tree trunks had been strung up along the easiest passages to the fortress, and wagons were bringing more along the rough dirt track that led back towards Amon Lanc. Soon a formidable fortress would rise, to bar the passages of the Great River to the tricks and enchantments of the most despised of enemies.

Tol Brandir, Nen Hithel

Granak nodded as the last laborers finished securing the flagstones of this end of the Bridge Sorrowful with mortar and crushed cement. Here, within the sound of the tremendous ponderousness that was the Falls of Rauros, the Dark Lord was making his mark on Middle-Earth once more. With the sweat of the brow and the crack of the whip had his forces raised a mighty edifice, to allow his armies to march unopposed across the Great River, unlooked for, unmarked. The bridge still needed completion, for the span to the western bank was only in the nascent stages of construction, but here upon the isle in the center the forces of Mordor had their citadel. Only via very easily guarded approaches could the island be assailed, and with large amounts of stone coming in from the new quarries in the eastern marches of the Emyn Muil, a work indeed could be raised here. Several thousand workers were at their jobs upon Tol Brandir, as a Nazgul watched it all, and Granak chuckled to himself while he went off to draw a new ration of grog.

Cair Andros

In might and splendor like unto the armies of old they marched, taking nearly three days to cross the causeway from Ithilien; the host of Mordor was great in its numbers, strong in its weapons, and Gondor would burn at their coming. Sauron's strategem long devised was in place, the pieces moving, the board nearly dominated by his pawns. In their uncounted thousands they passed through the slowly rising stronghold of Mordor, on to Eastern Anorien, where they would mass for the assault on the White City. Ere long the White Tree would be cast down, the line of Numenor broken anew, and the blood of the west utterly spent as it soaked the fields of the Pelennor. The victory of the darkness, it was almost at hand.

Central Anorien

These lands were fertile, full of grain and livestock. The Orc commanders were in high spirits, for their soldiers were well fed, and had had much sport; cowing the few peasant villages into submission to the will of the Dark Tower had been child's play, and with no foes riding out in any direction to fight with them, ah, it was the good life. Kharazan, on the other hand, was dissatisfied. Or, as unhappy as a Ringwraith could be. He craved combat, to slay the foes of his lord, and though this easy conquest satisfied those warriors that marched far beneath his leathery wings, bloodlust always flowed through his veins. Metaphorically, at least. In ages past he had been a lord of the Khand-men, a great slayer of Westrons in his mortal existence, and merely seizing supplies and terrifying townspeople did not satisfy him. As he winged over the countryside he eventually spotted a small rise, and bade the commanders march for that spot; it was near enough to the Druadan Forest for easy work in securing timber, but far enough that it would be difficult to take a redoubt erected upon its heights unawares. So Gondor would neglect this region; the Great Eye would not do so, and into the depths of the hills the delving of a new pit for the Orc-kin to spawn in was begun.

South Ithilien

Through the dry and sparsely wooded land the Orcs marched in their numbers, forces drawn off from the city of Osgiliath to make fast the Barad-Dur's grip on this land. It was hotter than many of the wretched folk were used to, near even unto the Hardondor and the lands of the Southrons, but it would serve the purposes of the Eye well enough. Wood there was here, and fertile soil to grow the food that sustained the armies of Mordor in the field. No men lived here, not since the coming of the Black Uruks and the destruction of Ithilien in the decades past. But many Orcs would live here in the decades to come, and the little tower they worked to erect near the banks of the Anduin would ensure that. Many evil things crept in the night here, called to Mordor by the power of the Eye, for he brought all foul things forth in their time. Some sentries reported a pale grey creature skulking about and catching fish along the banks of the Great River, but eventually it disappeared, headed north, and the patrols gave it no more thought.

by **Archegnum** » Thu Jun 26, 2014 12:29 pm

Rivendell

Great Confederacy Of Commonwealth States wrote:“Greetings, my old friends. Cirdan, it has been far too long”

Gandalf truly felt happy, which could be read from his face by almost any creature. His eyes were narrowed, his voice was deep and trustworthy, and his hands were warm in their greeting. At Cirdan’s mention, he looked down, and smiled. He continued in his perfect Sindarin, a language he had mastered over the last two thousand years on Middle Earth.

“And I thank you for it, mellon. If it hadn’t been for your ring, the enemy might have had control over a firedrake as far as we know.”

He sat down at Elrond’s table, and removed his hat. His mood darkened, quite disturbingly. His eyes grew from pleasant slits, indicating happiness and glee, to the round blue orbs they were when troubled. He looked from Cirdan to Elrond, taking them up entirely, and scanning them for clues on the current situation. Often, asking a question was not necessary if one knew body language. Gandalf had, like always, a few questions for his friend which he could not answer himself. The first and foremost was about the current political climate in Middle Earth. Gandalf had been keeping a low profile as of late, to deter the enemy from launching a savage strike at his life. Now, he needed to get back into the game with all his might.

“My lord Elrond, forgive my curiosity. What news from the West and East? I have heard terrible rumours of the Easterlings, as well as from the Misty Mountains and from Edoras. The enemy seems to be preparing his forces, if these rumours are to be believed.”

After asking that, another question popped to mind, following the words he had heard Elrond speak on his arrival.

“Master Peredhil, what did you mean by pursuers? I have told no-one where I was headed, and I came straight from Isengard. I discussed matters of East with Saruman, matters for the White Council. It seems it has been called upon already? What news has made you make that call?”

Cirdan was silent a moment before answering the wizard's question himself. He found himself wishing that Celeborn and Galadriel were present, for they had much knowledge of the doings of the world through the Mirror.
"We both felt a shift in the balance of power in Middle-earth. It seems the Dark Lord, Sauron, is stirring again in Mordor. Surely you must have felt it too, as a Ring-bearer?"

The Third Age: A Lord of the Rings RP (IC/Open)

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