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Post by Aerianeth on Mar 21, 2005 6:44:46 GMT -5
*arriving from a mist of black smoke, aeri looks around and sits down on a random chair*
so...this "secret council". tell me more.
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Post by maeglin on Mar 21, 2005 12:10:36 GMT -5
i guess i need a new registration form
Name; Naín Mallet-Head (My Mallet got smashed once so I killed all 44 of my enemies by headbutting them, Glaswegian Handshakes if your from U.K.)
Kingdom; Khazad Dum
Alliance;Neither good nor evil, I fight for my kin, and sometimes my friends
Position; Ruler of Khazad Dum
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Post by Tinaldor on Mar 21, 2005 12:20:28 GMT -5
ah the old glasgow handshake.
the memories....
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Post by Aerianeth on Mar 22, 2005 14:46:19 GMT -5
that gives me major headache memories.
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Post by Tinaldor on Mar 24, 2005 8:38:52 GMT -5
oh sorry about that aeri...  |
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Post by Aerianeth on Mar 24, 2005 9:59:14 GMT -5
um whatever...
*takes a picture of a window*
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Post by Tinaldor on Mar 24, 2005 10:33:47 GMT -5
you do that...
im off to the secret council.
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Post by Aerianeth on Mar 31, 2005 5:32:02 GMT -5
okay, c ya there.
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Post by Tinaldor on May 7, 2005 12:47:50 GMT -5
*he laughed* well lets hope no-one decides to disagree with you nain.  *he fingered the hilt of his new sword on his back* though im not one for talking really... |
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Post by Targuhl Dawneater on Feb 28, 2007 9:55:45 GMT -5
Targuhl came out of the water in a torrid and violent struggle with the weeds and other things that were clinging to him, trying to draw him back in, after days of what had seemed like a slow, drawn-out death. He had seen things there that would haunt him for the rest of his life, things that had happened, that had been done, in battle and in the privacy of men's and elves' and dwarves' seperate kingdoms, things that would permanently shake his idea of good and evil. Targuhl was no fool though, he knew that Tinaldor had somehow manipulated his dreams, he knew that he was being corrupted. But, for some reason, the weightier the oppresion felt, the more Targuhl felt like he had the strength to fight it off. For now he knew that his only deciding line between doing and not doing something was survival. He had to do what he had to to survive, but a rekindled sense of his own destiny had arisen in the Prince. He would not submit, he would not be overcome, he would never bow dow, ever. Targuhl knew that it would be useless to try to face Tinaldor head-on, so the only thing that he could do was try to prove himself, on his own two feet. Eventually Tinaldor would see that this Elf was uncorrruptible, untaintable, and he would eventually grant Targuhl his respect. Otherwise, well, death was the Thief's last remaining option. That was it. Now, he only had two choices before him, death or survival.
Targuhl found a piece of solid ground amidst the bog, and he slept on it. For the first time in years he was left totally unguarded for more than a few minutes...
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Post by Targuhl Dawneater on Mar 1, 2007 5:36:58 GMT -5
The Dawneater woke up suddenly, had he heard something? There was no time for questions, with his elven vision he could see something stirring in the distant tower of Barad Dur, he had awoken the wrath of Tinaldor. But he could not run, surely that would only prolongue the encounter. He got up, girded himself and loosened all of his knives in their respective sheaths. He found a good spot in the marsh for a fight, and watied. The Assassin knew that Tinaldor would not come himself, he would send somebody, another of his corrupted slaves, what Targuhl could have been by now. Targuhl felt ready, this would be it. Survival. Life. Or nothing. He drew his long sword.
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