Lord of the Rings: Naught but Ashes [IC/Open]

[Raktio]

Southern Border of Loriel

As the destructive flames forged of sorcery or technolgy burned trees, the Ents took up what retribution they could. Although not able to hit the trebuchets further back, the much closer and smaller catapults were quite viable options for smashing with hand propelled boulders, many which had originated from the very catapults they flew at. Further in the trees did their best to isolate the flames which easily devoured them moving away from their burning companions.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Nothing to see here, move along.

[Lunas Legion]

Lothlórien

"The Ents will do as the Ents will do, King Brand." Galadriel sighed slightly. "They take orders from no one but themselves, but I have no doubt that they are acting against the machines the Great Enemy has unleashed against us, and that the Men of Gondor said were also deployed against the Walls of Minas Tirith."

She stood, stretching her arms out as if tired. "See to your men. I shall do my best to dispell this hellfire the Great Enemy uses against us, but it carries a great risk, a risk which I must take to ensure the survival of Lothlórien."

It was a great risk, using the power of one of the Elven Rings against the fire of the Great Enemy; although they had been carved by Celebrimbor rather than the Great Enemy himself, they still retained a link to the One Ring itself as the arts used in their creation was the same.

She began to chant, faintly at first, while Neyna's glow brightened, but steadily increasing in sound until the chant had become a howl towards the skies and Neyna grew as bright as the sun, too much to look at, before the light vanished and Galadriel's shoulders slumped in tiredness.

"I know not if it worked, but if it does not..." She left the question open. If it failed, it was obvious what would happen.

[Liecthenbourg]

The Plaza of Khans, Mistrand, Rhun
As the Dwarf struck at the bell in the centre of the plaza many civilians had clutched their ears at the ear piercing waves of sound that followed. As Khazad returned to his seat, a great shadow loomed over him. So large was this imposing patch of darkness that it blocked out the sun for a few moments. The Dwarf turned, in an attempt to see what it was that had been blocking out the sun - not a common thing in the clear skies of Rhun in addition to the overwatch the sun generally constantly had. Now, against his face were robes of black - that of Khamul. The Black Easterling had arrived at his capital from a detour to Erebor - for he had orders to relay (Which he had done so as soon as he arrived) and now the army stationed in the Mountains of Rhun had began their return to Mistrand.

"Is it not polite to await someone, especially after given assurance he will be summoned, Dwarf of the Orocarni?" Khamul inquired, his voice nothing but an authoritative whisper of malice. His golden helm, shoulder armour and gauntlets gleamed in the sun intensely, causing mass reflections onto the ground and walls nearby. This was him, the Age-Old Khan of the Easterlings.

Tower of Orthanc
Mouth of Sauron
The Mouth of Sauron dismounted his fellbeast most hastily and entered his chambers within Orthanc as fast as he could go. He had to hurry, for the force he was to be commanding was already on the move towards the Gap of Rohan. As he twisted the key into the lock and opened the door, he felt a sudden feeling of tranquillity he had not felt in a long period of time. He sat at his seat and admired the room - ever since he had become Keeper of Orthanc it had slowly changed towards a sort of home away from home, bearing quite a grave similarity to that of his study within the Barad-Dur. Banners covered Orthanc from head to toe, that of the Great Eye. The internal workings and furnishings had been changed to the specifications of the Voice of the Abhorred Dead and now deep purple was a predominant colour alongside black. Perhaps the most amusing feature was that of a great portrait within the palanatir's chamber within the tower. It detailed the Mouth in intricate detail, standing by his seat in Orthanc - his staff which resembled the tower in one hand and the palantir in the other. It amused him heavily, he supposed he had allowed his command and titles in the War get to his ego but he frankly didn't care, it was well worth it. Breaking from his train of thought, he quickly grabbed his equipment - including his sword and personal field provisions before departing back to his fellbeast for he had forces to command.

Rhunic Encampment, Banks of the River Celduin, Rhun
The cool and tranquil flow of the river was a sight to behold. Men of Rhun washed and horses grazed upon the open plains on either side as they awaited orders from Mistrand. None would have expected, especially the generals and officers in their large dinning tent to be receiving orders any time soon so when a horse galloped across the great road that connected Mistrand to Dale much confusion erupted amongst the Easterling Ranks. The courier reared his steed, the immense hooves of the creature then gracefully touching down upon the soft earth as the messenger dismounted. Bowing illustriously as he entered the tent, earning stairs from the dinning commanders, he approached General Yyveck Khar. The general removed his helm, revealing the typical swarthy complexion of the Easterlings. This was accompanied by his black hair and piercing green eyes.

"Yes?" he asked through mouthfuls of fish and mead.

"My Lord, word from Khamul. He commands that within three days you must be on your way to Erebor, for he has a great assault planned and needs you and your men."

Yyveck nodded and the messenger departed, the forces would be moved indeed, but just after this fine dining.

Under the Mountain, Erebor, Rhun
Mood Setting
Kemik was the last to touch upon the floor, his pickaxe rustling slightly as his boots pressed against the stone. Tigeke waved her latern into the air infront of them, illuminating several wall torches that she proceeded to light at once. Jerrek began operating the system of pulleys that they had operated and soon down came the container, in it barrels of black powder acquired from the Dark Lord. Margoz, being his ever negative self proceeded to inform everyone on how they'd all explode if that were to go off.

"Charming" Tigeke stated, beginning to lead the way with her lantern. Her three compatriots followed close behind, two holding their lanterns as well and the Jerrek carrying the barrel. Their picks swung back and forth, their flames flickered with, causing shadows to retreat and advance as they too trekked along the hollowed halls of stone and sadness. Eventually, they came across what appeared to be a small cave in. Jerrek set down the barrel of gunpowder and Tigeke cursed in annoyance.

"Now we're all goi-" before Margoz could say anymore, he was interrupted by an elbow to the chest. He grunted in pain and back away from Tigeke, whom merely chuckled in response. As this went on, none noticed Kemik as he did something most peculiar. Grabbing his velvet belt he managed to carefully attach his lantern to his helmet, the great helm worn by most Rhunic soldiers, and picked up his pickaxe. He hefted the tool over his head and near his back before swinging it down at the rocks blocking the path, the clinking sounds finally catching the attention of his fellow Easterlings.

"Are you feeling alright, you stupid imbecile?" asked Margoz. "You're going to burn your fucking head off!"

"Enough with the profanity" Jerrek chimed, folding his arms in annoyance.

Tigeke too spoke, mock in her voice as she laughed. "It's going to be the best trend! Everyone will do it!"

Kemik merely looked at them and swung his pick once more, a smirk spread across his face as it hit the stone again and again. The others looked concerned but he then spoke, his very voice booming that resulting in shaking the caverns around them.

"I AM A DWARF AND I'M DIGGING A HOLE!"

[Asyir]

King Bard II of Dale
Caras Galadhon
TA 3025

"Yes Lady Galadriel. I shall take my leave. I have noticed you look rather tired as of late. Perhaps you should rest?" King Bard spoke in soft and caring tone. He had come to respect the Lady of Lothlorien as not only an ally but as a friend. He also knew she was the only hope for him and Dale. The King bowed low, and left her alone in her halls. His heavy plate boots clanking and scuffling as he went. When he arrived back at his camp where his men where gathered, he still saw the great green bolts of light explode in the sky.

"Damn your witchcraft and devilry Sauron!" King Bard screamed towards the siege lines. He did not know whether or not the enemy heard him, but he hoped they did. "Come and face us like men Orc scum!"

King Bard stood alongside his men throughout the bombardment, and upon seeing the Ents fire their own volleys, the men of Dale cheered loud enough that Bard believed Sauron could hear from Mordor.

Willam Iron-Wall
Miles northwest of Erebor
TA 3025

The host of riders marched until dark, when the sun was fully set across Middle-Earth. Willam noticed they made good ground, at least forty or fifty miles, a good distance for this rocky and hilly terrain. Eventually, Willam notice a small rock formation upon a hilltop, and decided they would make camp there. Riding ahead of his men, he said,"We shall eat and rest upon that hilltop for the night."

Leading his riders up the hill, Willam studied the rock formation more in depth, but came to the obvious conclusion they are just a small rock formation. A rider behind Willam started directing others to start a fire, but the grizzled captain overheard this.

"No fire tonight. We still are within sight of the mountain. Even if it is just barely within sight. I want ten men a watch."

The riders nodded in agreement, and soon rolled out their bedrolls and supplies. A few dozed off, and the first ten men slowly circled around the camp, looking for any signs of danger. Willam leaned up against a rock, and looked towards Gróin. With a smirk he made the remark,"your pony is quite fast. It could keep up with trained warhorses. Any other surprises I should be aware of?"

[The Seleucids (Ancient)]

Khózûr-Dûm

Capital of Rhûn
"Ah, Darkness, finally" Khazad said to himself, though he then noticed that this kind of darkness had a smell attached to it. As soon as this figure came into Khazad's sight he figured where that smell came from; It seemed that his robes hadn't been washed out for ages. Khazad stood up, "It is not polite either to keep your guests waiting." Khazad said with a smirk on his face.
"I'm Khazad II Bonehammer, Son of Azulidôr III, Slayer of Krôk the Troll as you may know. And with who do i have the pleassure today?" he continued.
Khazad was still a bit confused by the figure, the robes spoke of a homeless person though the gold that seemed to be made by the Dwarves told stories of wealth, perhaps a wealthy homeless guy? who knew...

---

Falón

Dale/Erebor
Gróin was taking care of his pony when Willam came for a chat, "Ah, Dwarves are full of suprises Captain." he said as he fed an apple to his pony, "Step here has been my friend for almost 30 years now, with the job as an envoy of my father and king i often travel long distances over rough terrain, with that i'm also a family man and want to spend time with my wife and children as much as i can. For these reasons i have put much time and effort into Step to get him into the shape he is today." Gróin answered.
He then turned around and looked towards the mountain, "I can't emagine what you have gone through, must be terrible..." Gróin said as he thought about how war often ended for the ones that lost... "How long will it take before we reach our destination?" he then said, hoping to get his buisness done as quick as possible. He wanted to help them but at the same time he couldn't wait to long before he had to inform his father about his findings.

[Osnil]

Bree, The Prancing Pony
Drogo Proudmead

Drogo turned away from Zedekiah for a moment, then saw the innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, motioning to him. He said, "I have something for you from Afrren."

"So he left already," Drogo sighed, "I had hoped he would say goodbye."

"He left with Lloyd the Wayfarer, not long ago after taking a drink," Barliman replied, "and they seemed to be in a hurry."

"So it is too late to say goodbye," Drogo said, "what did he leave for me?"

"This," Butterbur said, handing him the note given him by Afrren. Drogo opened it and it read,

Dear Drogo,
We say goodbye at last. I feel better writing this note to you rather than saying goodbye in person. I promise you that I will return as soon as possible. Bree can and will hold off Mordor until I do so.

Afrren Toen

Drogo sighed again. His old friend had left, and he hadn't said goodbye. Putting the note inside his pocket, he saw another hobbit beginning to converse with Zedekiah. He walked over and said, "You must be the representative sent by King Marimac. I am Drogo Proudmead, humble governor of Breeland."

[Asyir]

Khózûr-Dûm

Capital of Rhûn
"Ah, Darkness, finally" Khazad said to himself, though he then noticed that this kind of darkness had a smell attached to it. As soon as this figure came into Khazad's sight he figured where that smell came from; It seemed that his robes hadn't been washed out for ages. Khazad stood up, "It is not polite either to keep your guests waiting." Khazad said with a smirk on his face.
"I'm Khazad II Bonehammer, Son of Azulidôr III, Slayer of Krôk the Troll as you may know. And with who do i have the pleassure today?" he continued.
Khazad was still a bit confused by the figure, the robes spoke of a homeless person though the gold that seemed to be made by the Dwarves told stories of wealth, perhaps a wealthy homeless guy? who knew...

---

Falón

Dale/Erebor
Gróin was taking care of his pony when Willam came for a chat, "Ah, Dwarves are full of suprises Captain." he said as he fed an apple to his pony, "Step here has been my friend for almost 30 years now, with the job as an envoy of my father and king i often travel long distances over rough terrain, with that i'm also a family man and want to spend time with my wife and children as much as i can. For these reasons i have put much time and effort into Step to get him into the shape he is today." Gróin answered.
He then turned around and looked towards the mountain, "I can't emagine what you have gone through, must be terrible..." Gróin said as he thought about how war often ended for the ones that lost... "How long will it take before we reach our destination?" he then said, hoping to get his buisness done as quick as possible. He wanted to help them but at the same time he couldn't wait to long before he had to inform his father about his findings.

Willam Iron-Wall
Northwest of Dale/Erebor
TA 3025

Willam gave a quick glance at Step. The pony was well trained, as far as Willam could tell. Willam listened to the dwarf Gróin, and nodded as he talked about Step. When Gròin began speaking of the war, Willam removed his helm and pointed out his black eyepatch over his left eye.

"Aye. The war has been tough. Lost my home and family, all of us riders have. That's why we're called the 'Hellriders'. We have nothing to lose, therefore we undertake the dangerous tasks of scouting and harassing the enemy. But mark my words Gròin, we will fight to whatever end. Whether we win or lose this war matters little to me, as it has already been decided by powers greater than you and me. My only ambition is to make my foes pay, and to kill many. I wish for my name to live on and cause fear within the forces of evil."

Looking towards the mountain, flashes of war and death came to his mind. "We fought hard and well within Dale. I swear there were over forty notches on my sword hilt a day. We fought under the Mountain, side by side with the dwarves of Erebor, their armor gleamed in the sunlight, and their axes were red with the blood of Rhûn. I still remember it, as if I were still within that battle. Such a host of men will never be assembled again. Now, Dale lies in ruin, and the men of the East hold the Mountain. But I swear I will one day carve my way through and retake the mountain, or die trying!"

Willam had a look of anger and bloodlust within his eyes. After a moment or so, he returned to his natural state of calmness. "It will take us at least another days march Northwest to come within sight of the Grey Mountains. From there we ride west, keeping to the north of Mirkwood. In three days, we will be near the edge of Mirkwood, and turn south. Add another day, and we'll arrive at the Gladden Fields. From there we reach the base of the Misty Mountains, and follow it south to the unoccupied Silverlode River, and cross into Lorien. It will take a fortnight at the latest, a week and a half at the quickest."

[Rizoshia]

Marshal Tanith's Company
Northeastern Border of OrcfuckMordor held Gondor

The banner of the White Tree still flapped in the wind. Gondorian men still held sword in one hand and shield in the other: as long as they marched on Gondor would never truly fall. Atop a grey horse sat Marshal Tanith, the man who imposed his leadership upon the men to almost unanimous agreement. The horse bobbed up and down whilst his column of Gondorian men marched behind him in formation while Tanith hummed to himself. He had no reason to act as though all hope was lost, all things considered he was actually doing fairly well. The whole not being impaled on a Orc's pike was also brightening up his spirits. It could always be worse. "Plenty of Orcs to kill and Gondorian women to 'liberate' lads, we will breed an Army yet." The men behind him chuckled as they marched forward with a thunderous rumble of armored feet and bodies. A moment of silence followed the unified laughter before the men struck up a tune, changing the timing to be in cadence with the march.

Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!

West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree

Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old.

O proud walls! White towers! O wingéd crown and throne of gold!

O Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree,

Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?

[Liecthenbourg]

The Plaza of Khans, Mistrand, Rhun
A scoff escaped what was left of Khamul's mouth. He began chuckling heavily, his immense and exotic armour and robes buckling as he did so before he regained his composure and stared down at the Dwarf. He had quite the audacity, this short one did - but he paid it no thought for now, perhaps it had something useful to say.

"I would agree, but alas, we are rather busy when it comes to running an Empire." Now Khamul "raised" an eyebrow, "Well, Khazad II Bonehammer, I welcome you to Mistrand - the Great Fortress City of the Rhunic Khanate. I, am Khan Khamul of the Easterlings. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Beneath his helm, mighty and proud, and his robes of old and cloth a smirk spread across the ghastly apparition that was Khamul's face.

The Great Eastern Road, Rhun
Adalrik wiped his brow. The sun above him was hot and ever present and despite his best wishes to return to the coolness of the nearby river for a swim, his grand vineyards needed tending to produce his livelihood, one of the famed beverages of Dorwinion. He plucked at the succulent and juicy grapes that created his wine, treating the day like any other. After he had collected many buckets worth of the grapes he began to place them upon his wagon, to take them to the presser he had on the other side of his property - two gigantic barrels, six feet across in diameter and four feet in height. Here, after washing his feet in the river, he would begin to press them into their excellent liquid that would produce the fine wines for the local markets and now, recently, the Easterlings.

As his cart slowly trotted around his property, he heard a mighty commotion coming from the rode. Heavily confused he continued to advance around the greenery of his lands and only then did realise, as the first banners appeared over the hills, that an Easterling Army marched. Quickly, he drew his wagon off of the road and onto the countryside to not blockade the infrastructure for the armies of the East. Here he waited as columns of gold, like a river in its stature, that stretched as far as the eye could see and probably further still. Horses, wagons, man, beast, it mattered not as he waited and waited. By the time the rearguard of the column had passed by his wagon, he was merely relieved they ignored him - aside from a few hellos and polite gestures from some of the Officers and common footsoldiers. He had no knowledge of what they planned to do, but he really wished for none in truth - the world he knew had already been cast behind shadows.

The Mouth's Advance, Enedwaith
Carts, wagons, troops, beasts of burden and so much more advanced through the Southern Enedwaith, in conjunction with a similar force dispatched by Sauron to attack Ost-in-Edhil. The Mouth watched these columns of black, with their banners of red held high in the air. From his position, atop of his fellbeast he could see for miles and miles around. The roads were empty nowadays, not much traffic flowed this far South, with the only commonly used roads being located in the North West. This mattered little, for behind the Wall of Light, in the realm of shadow, the roads were always busy - armies, goods, it mattered not.

The Voice of Abhorred Dead flicked the reigns on the fellbeast once more, and it began to descent closer to the force of Orcs, Eastern Men, Trolls, Wargs and Uruks. Little did they have in mind for offensives, but their goal was as war-winning as a battle in Rivendell.

Under the Mountains, Erebor
Tigeke performed an action that would be later described as a facepalm. Margoz and Jerrek merely shook their heads in disappointment, the flames from their lanterns imprinting this image upon the cavern's walls. The only sound, aside from the crackling of the flames, sighs of exasperation and footsteps were the methodical and tedious strikes of the iron pickaxe against the rock.

"How close are you?" Margoz inquired, visibly losing his patience as he paced from one side of the cavern to the other.

"Almost got a hole large enough" Kemik replied, earning faint "Hoorahs!" from the three other company members. After a few more swings, the Engineer blew into the hole and allowed tiny dust and rock particles escape onto the floor. Now, he reached onto his belt and grabbed a fine tube. He removed the lid and placed it into the hole he had created and motioned for Jerrek to come over. He did so and took queue, beginning to pour, carefully of course, some of the black powder into the tube until it was about fourth fifths of the way full. With that completed they all stood back and Kemik placed the cap back onto the tube, pushing through a small circular hole in the cap a long piece of string. Uncoiling it back to a safe distance, behind a fallen column with the rest of his compatriots he inhaled sharply.

"Tigeke, matches" He stated bluntly, his hands calm and his face stern. She merely nodded in response and lit a match against the sole of her boot before handing it towards Kemik. He placed it against the rope and allowed it to catch alight, before requesting another match. This process was repeated a few times until a healthy flame was visibly building up as it trailed down the rope and towards the tube in the fissure. Now, they could only hope this worked.

[The Seleucids (Ancient)]

Khózûr-Dûm

Mistrand, Rhûn
"Its good to meet you Khan Khamul of the Easterlings." Khazad said as he realized he had the right person in front of him. "Over the past decade it has become a problem when it comes to contacting my kin in the west. Family relations died out becouse the journey to the west is just one that takes to long without a proper restingplace. I have come here in the name of Uzûd II Stonesmith, Son of Azdûl, Lord of Ruzûlizar, Lord of Azûl-Dûm, Lord of Azaldurûk to discuss a proposal. This proposal has the support of my father, Azulidôr III, Son of Dazûlar IV Nightwatcher, Lord of Khózûr-Dûm, Slayer of Rhûnam the King, Slayer of Dodûh the Raider, Slayer of Zugha the Orc. For a long time the Dwarves and men of the East have enjoyed good relation with one another and both have profited great from the trade. Now i must say that with this proposal our relations will be tested but we hope that you see the advantage of this proposal, not only for now, but for the future to come." he continued, as he was done speaking he looked around a bit, figuring this wasn't the best place to read forward the proposal that had been agreed on by the Dwarves.

---

Falón

Encampment
"Fair enough." Gróin said to Willam concerning the travel. He then turned towards the mountian once more, he had knew many dwarfs that had the same feeling like Willam and it wasn't a good feeling. Most died in vain, getting themselves killed in a desperate attempt to achieve nothing, others grew old with their hatred inside of them, leaving only a trace of broken hearts behind them. No, this feeling he had was not good. Gróin knew also those that found a new purpose in life, a new purpose worth fighting and dying for, but above all, a purpose that gave them hope, pride and love.

Gróin turned to Willam, "You should not carry these feelings with you lad, it will break and destroy you and everybody around you. Your family died for a cause, now you should find your cause once more. I knew and still know many people like you, i know what such feelings can do to a person and those around him and i also know how wonderfull it is when they find themselves once more. Just look into your heart, there's always a cause worth living for." he told as he laid his hand on Willam's arm. Gróin then walked away towards his sleeping spot where he laid down, watching the stars for a while before he fell asleep.

[Krugmar]

Hîr-Burôdasînkal
Citadel of Narik-Zadan

---

Burôdasînkal stopped suddenly, fire began tormenting his vision as he was pulled into a strange new world. He could see nothing, his sight blocked by ash, and hear nothing, the silence almost intolerable. Eventually the ash cleared and screams filled the air. He could see a great port burning, it seemed to be Elven in design with a great beauty to it. It must have been Mithlond, commonly called the Grey Havens. He heard the Black Speech of Mordor being called out by a terrible voice and he somehow understood every word. The screaming grew louder and louder until it felt like it would burst his eardrums.

Then he returned to the mortal realm, kneeling and completely out of breath. His Old Guard and advisers were surrounding him, completely confused as to why he had stopped suddenly for several minutes. He could hear manic laughing in the background as The Traitor slowly walked up to his group. "My Master has spoken to you, you had best obey" screeched the vile Traitor.

Burôdasînkal stood up and turned to face the creature, his face contorted into a look of disgust which was hidden by his helm. "You are a vile little worm, I take orders from no man or pitiful creature such as Sauron. I shall go of my own accord" he replied. His pride buckled under the will of Sauron, he could not go against him but he could not appear to be weak.

The Traitor laughed at the insult, then said "You call me a worm, yet I am far superior to-" before he was pushed into the water by Azulzîr. He sank beneath the waves, his heavy robes flustering about as he attempted to reach the surface. Hours later he would eventually wash up on the shore, completely humiliated.

Azulzîr turned to his Lord and said "Pitiful little rat", spat into the sea and then continued, "I shall get the fleet ready. Where do we go?".

Burôdasînkal replied "Mithlond, we burn the last great haven of the Elves". Burôdasînkal knew that the battle for Mithlond would not be easy, though the rewards were well worth the risk. He carried on making his way towards his ship, his fleet would set sail within a few hours and be at Mithlond within a few days if the wind was with them.

[Asyir]

Willam Iron-Wall
Northwest of Erebor
TA 3025
Willam felt Gròin's hand touch his arm. Willam stood there like a stone, his eyes fixed upon the mountain. He heard Gròin's wise words, and soon after heard the dwarf's footsteps slowly dissipate into the sound of silence. Willam gazed upon the grey mountain, thinking of the war and loss. He could see faint lights across the arms of the mountain. There were many such lights flickering near the mountain. "So this is the full force of Rhûn. They are fully gathered. It will not be long now until they march either west or north. If they march upon Lorien, we will not hold."

The night went by with nothing out of the ordinary. The watch soon changed, and Willam found himself in his bedroll. He pondered the dwarf' words from earlier, but to no avail. Darkness soon crept over the older commander, and sleep overtook him.

[Liecthenbourg]

The Plaza of Khans, Mistrand, Rhun
Khamul looked interested, clearly knowing what this Dwarf referred to - for Rhunic Caravans to the Dwarven Holds had many-a resting spot in the expensive empire that Rhun held. He nodded, and saw the Dwarf's uncomfortable form at speaking in this open space.

"Come" Khamul stated, gesturing his hands to what seemed to be a grand palace in the distance. Before the Dwarf could take his eyes away from such the gargantuan structure that pierced the heavens, Khamul had already began walking towards it.

The Great Eastern Road, Outskirts of Erebor and Dale, Rhun
General Yyveck took a swig from his cow hide water flask, some excess water dripping down from the side of his lips and chin and onto the floor. He screwed the cap back on and brought forth his left arm to his face, wiping at his lips. He turned back from his forward position of the column, looking back to see many of the men of Rhun still holding strong from their vast trek. He had dispatched riders, some of the Horse Archers, towards Erebor slightly before the sun rose over the horizon to inform the garrison there to begin preparing an extensive breakfast, for the forces Khamul requested were almost upon them.

Before long, the general could see Dale much closer than he did the previous evening, when it was merely a few ruins and flames from the Rhunic Outposts. Now, it was much clearer. A city it was, but nearly every building showed signs of damage and it seemed his fellow Easterlings had spent their time repairing Erebor, not this. He shrugged it off, it was not his place to question the methods Khamul had. Flicking on the reigns of his horse, he returned to the foremost position in the column, earning stern salutes from the soldiers with their musical instruments and banners at the front of the formation. The journey had, to the relief of most, almsot come to an end.

The Ruins of Lond Daer, Enedwaith, No-Man's Land - The Mouth of Sauron and the Forces of the Adorn Vale
The Mouth's fellbeast descended gracefully onto a rock perch, it's wings folding like that of a great bird as the Lieutenant of Barad-Dur looked from their high up position. From here he could see the forces advance down the road and towards the ruins of Lond Daer. Quite an impressive sight, he believed. No time was to be wasted however and the Mouth spurred on the fellbeast once more and it took to the skies. Soon, his beast of flight had perched itself upon a tall, clearly run down stone building within the outskirts of the ruins. Here, both it and the Mouth watched as the first forces entered the former city. Uruks, Evil Men, Orcs of the Morannon and Snaga, Trolls from the Mountains, Olog-Hai, Wargs and Siege Engines too. Most importantly trekked along were mighty wagons laden with supply and tools. Before long, the Mouth had noticed some of his forces (The others had begun building defences) had already begun what he informed them to do on the trek here - the rebuilding of the city.

Exiting the Gap of Rohan, Enedwaith - Forces of the Rochand
Marzgub reared his Warg, swinging his crude sword forward. Bared teeth and sharp blades responded, as did several less enthusiastic cries from men upon their horses. This force, clearly much faster than the large infantry oriented armies of the Mouth, was seen more as a harassing force and any upon the other side of the Gap of Rohan would fear them. They began their "march", hooves, paws and boots pressed against the earth in a thunderous chorus that shook the ground herself. The final stages of the assault had begun.

Crossing into Enedwaith, Anfalas - Forces of Anfalas
Trekking with equipment to their backs and their weapons at hand did the forces of the Anfalas begin their cross over into the Enedwaith to form the final prong on the important attack. This force was much heavier in comparison to the heavy mobile army moving from Rochand - this one brought siege weapons, trolls and much more infantry. Her use would be useful, her catapults would drive fear into the hearts of man, elf and dwarf and the very nature of her assault was to be a testimony to the power of Sauron and the fragility of the remaining forces of good. There would be no dawn for the light.

Deep within the Lonely Mountain - The Erebor Expedition
Off the explosion went, rubble and rock flying from their positions across the small cavern with great distance. The Expedition however, had been well protected from their piece of cover. The dust soon began to settle down, but even as faint traces of this was left the members of the expedition had picked up their gear and proceeded to walk into the depths of the Lonely Mountain.

[The Seleucids (Ancient)]

Khózûr-Dûm

Mistrand, Rhûn
Khazad followed the Khan to this massive building, it was a construction even he, as a Dwarf, admired. It was tall, yet steady and was full of shiny decorations. A true masterpiece indeed, something that Khazad never thought men where capable of building.
As they arrived inside Khazad got out a paper on which the proposal was written, then, in front of Khamul, he started to read:

For a long time us, Dwarves, have kept contact with our kin in the Western lands, for long we had close ties with one another. For these days have grown quiet, for years we have not heard from our kin, for this we seek change, change that will bring good to this world.

Here stands the proposal for the King of the East, from the Lords of the East.
I, Uzûd II Stonesmith, Son of Azdûl, Lord of Ruzûlizar, Lord of Azûl-Dûm and Lord of Azaldurûk seek to re-establish our close ties with our kin from the West as it has become an important matter to our people.
I, Uzûd II Stonesmith, Son of Azdûl, Lord of Ruzûlizar, Lord of Azûl-Dûm and Lord of Azaldurûk seek to re-unite long lost families that where not able to see one another during this long period of time.
I, Uzûd II Stonesmith, Son of Azdûl, Lord of Ruzûlizar, Lord of Azûl-Dûm and Lord of Azaldurûk hereby make a proposal to the King of Rhûn, our great friend and partner.

• During these days we seek to establish a Dwarven hold worthy of a save haven for those travelling East or West, With these days we seek ownership of a suitable part of the lands of Rhûn, suitable to establish a hold worthy of the Dwarves. For these days we seek this place deep in the Mountains near the great sea of Rhûn. For when we found a suitable site for this hold we will offer Rhûn fifty Dwarven trade carts full of Gold and precious stones.
  
• For this land we seek to build a hold worthy of the Dwarves, For this hold needs outposts to keep eyes on all that moves in the shadow or the sun. For this land we seek to build four holds of eyes that offer safety to these lands.
  
• For this land needs more then safety by the eye, it needs safety by the axe, For we know our enemies are everywhere at anytime. For we seek to host soldiers in these lands to keep us safe from harm and to aid our brothers in need, For this we seek to host fifteen thousand of our kin in the times of hard work and peace, For these days of war and trouble we seek to host thirty Thousand of our kind.
  
• For these troubles and loss in resources that are held in this land we offer fifteen out of the hundred of ores and gems for free to Rhûn. For these troubles we will offer sixty out of the hundred of ores and gems for half of the usuall price that is demanded. For these troubles we will offer twenty-five out of the hundred of ores and gems for one fifth of the usuall price that is demanded.
  
• For this land being part of Rhûn for long we will allow the Rhûnic people to continue living in this lands as we will not force these people to move from their homes.
  
• For the Rhunic people living in this land we see the need in Rhûnic safety for these people as we cannot protect those that live outside the Mountains. For this we will allow five thousend soldiers of Rhûn in times of hardworking peace, For these days of war and trouble within Rhûn only we will allow ten thousand soldiers of Rhûn, For the times where we stand united against a common enemy we will allow fifty thousend soldiers of Rhûn in this land.
  
• For this land could bring struggle and an unequal powerhold this land will be held not only by the Stonefoots but also the Blacklocks, For only to bring and keep peace within this land present.
  
• For a show of good will and a show of our friendship the Stonefoots will construct one hold of men for free when the Rhûnic people found a suitable land for a hold to be build on according to their wishes, For this hold may be equal to that of Azûl-Dûm.
  
• For a show of good will and a show of our friendship the Blacklocks will allow themselves to be hired as mercenaries by Rhûn for free during a period of one season, For the amount of as many willing Dwarves that can be found.

Signed by,
Uzûd II Stonesmith, Son of Azdûl, Lord of Ruzûlizar, Lord of Azûl-Dûm and Lord of Azaldurûk
Azulidôr III, Son of Dazûlar IV Nightwatcher, Lord of Khózûr-Dûm, Slayer of Rhûnam the King, Slayer of Dodûh the Raider and Slayer of Zugha the Orc

---

Falón

Encampment
Gróin woke up early in the morning of the next day. It was a foggy day and the Mountian could not be seen anymore. It was time to head out again, he wanted to get to the people who knew more so he could inform his father about the happenings out here in the west. Gróin prepared Step for another day of travel and as soon as he was done with that he decided to wake up the others, "Out of your beds lads, the sun is up already." he said as he walked passed the men who still slept.

[Asyir]

Willam Iron-Wall
Northwest of Erebor
TA 3025

Willam was roused from his slumber from Gròin, whom had already packed himself for the long march ahead. Willam got up, and donned his armor. He slowly packed his things up, and went to where they tied the horses. His horse was white, and was a stallion of great size. Willam called him Majesty. He grabbed Majesty's reins, and led him to his belongings. By then, the company of 50 was set for the tasks ahead.

The fog was thick in the morning air. Willam could not see the mountain, or even Mirkwood. The morning air itself was rather heavy and thick, as if some sorcery had been placed over them. The thought brought a shiver upon Willam.

Quickly throwing his items on Majesty, Willam leaped up on his saddle, and took the reins. "Onwards," he ordered aloud, with his booming and majestic voice,"by nightfall, we will be upon the Grey mountains!"

The company soon set out, and marched for the day.

[The Intergalactic Russian Empire]

Northwestern Gondor
Steward Boromir
Boromir sat on horseback, he and his 4,000 followers were travelling north towards safer lands, it had been a few years since the war had ended and yet Boromir still wondered how it all went wrong, why it all went wrong. The war was a complete disaster, his father was caught and executed trying to flee Minas Tirith, and his brother was killed during a later battle by a barrage of arrows. As he rode his horse he stopped and looked ahead "People, we are at the border of what once was Gondor, past this point and we will have left our homeland, all those who want to stay and die with their lands can stay." everyone followed him past that point and kept going north, from Boromir's map, the only places of importance are Rivendell, Bree, and the Shire.

[Rizoshia]

South-West of Cair Andros
Marshal Tanith
(NOTE: The dot represents their location whilst the curved line represents the section of the road that they will be harassing and using to acquire raw recruits if possible.)

"Spears(50) to the front, Swordsmen(100) form the second rank and prepare to engage any harassers! Archers(150/Full numbers) prepare to do what you can if the trees are occupied or, god forbid, they decide to come alive for reasons unknown." Tanith watched as his armored Spear and Swordsmen advanced while his cavalry, of little use in the forest, stayed a good ways to the rear in case hostiles appeared in the open. Tanith was mere feet behind the 2nd rank of men and watched as they advanced slowly into the forest. Instead of fanning out he formed them into a cohesive force that, if allowed to reach the center, would begin clearing an area to set up a camp with some standard defenses.

Earlier a Junior Officer of his had foolishly offered to take several riders to accompany him and attempt contact with Gondorian Remnants associated with the Elvish. After a relatively drawn out version of 'No' that involved him describing all the foul things Tanith wished upon those that went elsewhere and a bit of an explanation as to how they would 'lose all credit' and 'be used as regular cannon fodder', which was highly unlikely, the Officer was assigned to lead the first line of men into the forest. Better luck next time kid.

Small detachments of archers, seven groups of 10 to be exact, were placed between the two ranks at the last minute to provide some extra punch if things went south. And they probably would.

(If it's occupied is up to the Mordor player considering they own all of it I am trying to leave space open for them to do what they will. God forbid it's infested with spiders.)

[Nuridia]

"Uh, Grandpa?" Niellune whispered. Elrond seemed to be busy at the moment so she just decided to leave. She had no idea where she was going to go but it seemed that it was better than just standing there.

[The Starlight]

Elrond lifted up his head. "Ah, Niellune. Come, I suppose it is time I told you what all this is about. It is indirectly connected to you. As you know, the One Ring was sent to Aman in hope of avoiding the problem and the stopping the advance of the enemy. But we were wrong, I was wrong. Evil has continued to grow, so I have called a Council to decide our method of the Ring's destruction, as the One Ring has been sent back, and is now here. You are welcome to attend, I now see the error in leaving you out of all this. Aragorn, Arwen, Eldarion, and all of your family are connected to it. Without its destruction, your father will not be able to reclaim his throne at last as the King of both Gondor and Arnor." Elrond said.

[Nuridia]

'Really, I can come to the council?" "And I hope that this will help us find naneth, adar, and my siblings." "Sauron has to be stopped, but don't worry." "Evil never triumphs, and if this ring has to be destroyed to reunite my family and put them in their rightful place then so be it." "I'll travel myself, seek help from Lady Galadriel if she's willing." She took Elrond's hand, an informal and odd gesture but Niellune felt that it needed to be done as they both needed the comforting. "We'll find them, I promise." "If it's the last thing I do." she said, standing up, bowing and leaving.

[Shaggai]

The Grey Mountains

The screams of men echoed throughout the mining camp. Spiders poured through what passed for the streets, pillaging and slaughtering. Some of the miners tried to flee into the woods, and were run down by hordes of the ravenous spiderlings. Others fled into the mine, only to find that spiderlings were significantly better at moving in close confines. One man tried to fight back, swinging a pickax at a leaping spiderling. The spider's head broke open with a sickening crunch. A few seconds later, three more spiderlings tore the man to shreds. Gonurl and some of the Great Spiders stood back, watching the carnage approvingly. The army of the spiders had ravaged the Grey Mountains, killing men and dwarves and taking control over logging camps and mines. Soon, they would take control over all of the range.

[Liecthenbourg]

Mistrand, Rhun
Khamul inhaled sharply, faint winds being the only indication of this. He could merely nod at the Dwarf's proposal and he shook the hand of the stout fellow with much enthusiasm before signing the document himself. It was quite the offer, and one that he knew he should accept to keep his Eastern Flanks safe. That, and well, the superior mining techniques of the Dwarves would be quite useful to obtain the highest quality metals.

The Great Eastern Road, Outside of Erebor, Rhun
The army under General Yyveck had arrived at the destination, great tables for banquets had been set outside Rhun and in small groups of roughly 10,000 were allowed to accommodate their hunger at once. The rest were to rest as the forces of the Mountain were slowly making their way out, with the exception of the garrison and by noon the largest force Rhun had assembled all together had formed under the sun, since the days of the Siege of Erebor. This was a true testament to the Dark Lord, about how his allies would too actively engage in the fighting.

Forces of Rochand - Enedwaith
Marzgub took a swig from his water flask, his animal nature kicking in as he spurred his Warg across the plains of the Enedwaith. Behind him many wargs did follow, their riders baying for bloodlust. To the flanks galloped with pompous and splendour were the Rohirrim Turncoats, branded with the Blood Oath of Sauron as they served as screeners and light cavalry. The rarer more heavily armoured individuals had been gathered up and had formed, as Marzgub stated, "The Horse-Boy Brigade." He would soon see how effective these Horse-Boys could be.

Forces of Anfalas - Enedwaith
Trolls lumbered idly, pushing forth grand siege equipment north. Like their compatriots in the Rochand Forces, the Forces of Anfalas would need to arrive at the rallying point on the banks of the Glanduin River, which was merely a days march from their location. Fresh tracks many had noticed upon the earth below them - Rochand Forces it must've been, especially in such concentration. The Uruk commander, a dreaded individual whom had become a Veteran of the Siege of Minas Tirith, the subjugation of Gondor's remaining vassals, the battle of Osgiliath and dozens of other engagements he could not recall, drew forth his blade. It was a finely crafted tool, a grand cleaver of red hue from excessive blood it had drawn. He smelt it, cower, fear and war was in the air.

[Osnil]

Afrren and Lloyd finally arrived at Rivendell after a five day journey. They were a little tired and scratched up from a couple of stray wargs they crossed paths with. Afrren normally smiled, but sighed. He knew what dangerous business they were about to handle, and it could not be taken lightly. Sighting Gandalf the Grey, he approached him and said, "How good to see you, Gandalf. How are you faring in these dark days? Drogo Proudmead sends his deepest regards for not attending, but sent me in his stead. Honestly, sometimes I don't understand Hobbits. One minute you know them, the next, they surprise you. A very adventurous Hobbit like Drogo would jump at a journey to Rivendell. But he insisted that as the leader, he must stay in Bree. I tried assuring him that I could handle Bree until he returned. But sometimes Hobbits are stubborn folk, as I'm sure you already know."

[Elerian]

Breelands, the Half-Hand

Cedovar studied the fair haired Rohirrim closely. The dark blemishes around his eyes told Cedovar he had had many a sleepless night recently. It was also quite obvious that the man hadn’t eaten many hearty meals in days past; yet even still the Half-Hand could see that what the man lacked in healthy fat, he made up for with a lean sinewy frame. Suddenly aware of his barrel belly, earned from many late night binges on honeyed mead and thick stew. Sucking in his gut and making his fat less noticeable the Half-Hand replied, “Aye, nineteen others are lurking about in town getting what supplies they can before we set out.”

Cedovar looked around the bar to see if any of his companions had joined him. Seeing only locals and other stern Rohirrim the Half-Hand looked back at his new charge. “I’m unsure if the Hobbit you met with before mentioned what you’d be giving in return for our help in our little journey, but I’ll repeat it just to be sure you remember the terms. You’re to send a dozen men to Michel Delving to train our kin there, and in return we follow you to The Door of Night and back.”

(Sorry I took such a long time to post)