Land of Darkness RPG

[CaptainofDespair]

The Elf watched from his secluded segment within the ragtag company, as Grash had pointed to the pillars which stood as a last testament to the Dark Lord’s Will. They were ancient, former guardians of Minas Ithil, and now they had become twisted by the arcane forces that Sauron commanded. They were monuments now, to his power over the orcs, who were but poorly crafted mimics of the Elves of Eldar Days. They had weak minds, the orcs, and were easily driven to the master’s orders, and whether or not their tortured husks craved to wage war under the command of the Eye or not, they were forced on, by the beating drums and driving whips of the Uruks. And now, the Elf himself had come before these columns of dread and despair, and he gazed into their surface, feeling the warning they once held, and the dire power they now contained. The darkness, and cruelty, of the Eye emanated from within them now, and the Elf readied his mind for a war of willpower, one that might prove fatal, in both physical realm, and the plane of thought in which his own grand schemes resided.

Watching the man Grash begin to move towards them, he could already sense the deepening reverberations from the tremors that stormed forth from the pillars, as a new, seemingly fresh soul made its way within their grasp. They began to hum steadily, but the tortuous noise was inaudible to all but the most acute of ears. Knowing the power of Sauron of old, the Immortal knew this would be a trial like any other he had faced. Even the stinging fangs and sharpened claws of Shelob would pale in comparison with the Dark Lord’s Will, for he was the ultimate power within this blackened, scorched land. Without hesitation, Morgoroth strode silently towards the ominous pillars, calm and relaxed, and ready for the onslaught he was to face, alone, within the deepest, most hidden recesses of his dark, calculating mind.

His light foot steps kicked up little of the ashen dust as he moved towards the pillars, and he breathed little, so as to delay the shock that would course through the very veins of his body, in that instant he would cross into the Dark Lord’s astral realm, where he would tempt those not under his control, and imprint his will on those he commanded. Time itself seemed to halt when he made his way into the fold, where the pillars stood, as mechanisms of maintaining the will over the subjects in Mordor. The very crags of the Elf’s mind, where the carefully prepared thoughts that would assail Sauron’s will, went silent. Not a single grain of thought spoke to the Elf, and he was truly alone for the first time. And then, a great echoing voice spoke into his mind. The Will of Sauron now spoke to him, tempting him. “You dare to flee the realm of your Lord and Master, child? It is futile, for none can,” came a hissing, wrath-filled voice. “Ah, you come at last Sauron. I had feared you would disappoint me,” replied the haughty, streamlined inner voice of the Elf. His mind went quiet, and for a moment it seemed as if the trial was over. But soon, a hideous cackling began to build up, one filled with an anger and hatred, that had collected over many an age. And the voice spoke again. “You have no power here paltry Elf. Your immortality and heritage cannot save you, and nor can those you might consider allies. There are none who can contest with the Will of Sauron,” boomed the mighty, and ageless voice. “Ha! I may not have power here, there you are right. But you are wrong in the assumption that your power will go uncontested. I seem to recall the Last Alliance, for it was they who overthrew you, even with the power of your Ring,” sneered the Immortal. No reply verbal reply came from the void that had now filled ever crag of the Elf’s tortured and dark mind. Instead, a great wrath could be felt, building up, for it sent tremors of immeasurable power and distress through the Elf. And now, the voice returned, but this time, the image of the Great Eye came as well, not the mere void of dark emptiness. Pain and despair prevailed now, the Elf felt his will diminish before the onslaught that came. And within the well of the Eye, came an image, a scene from the Last Alliance. Morgoroth peered into this, wondering what new devilry Sauron was concocting. As he examined closer, he spied the face of his own father, who was slain in that final battle with Sauron. “So, you must resort to the persistence of memory to destroy me eh? You are weaker than I thought Sauron,” the Elf bluntly stated. Now Sauron was filled with spite and anger, for he tolerated not the use of his name. “You miss my point Elf, as all your kind have. You see, your kind gave their lives to destroy me, but yet, here I am. I have survived, where many have not. There are none who can defeat me, for my power is inconquerable!” The voice of the Dark Lord cackled in a most menacing way. The Elf began to feel weaker than before, even more so than he had physically felt when imprisoned in Cirith Ungol and Cirith Gorgor. But he retreated not, for his doom would be sealed should he perform that final act. “You may smite my heart with the lost emotion I once felt, but you will not break my mind!” the Elf retaliated. On those words, the Dark Lord’s voice grew, invading not only the mind of the Elf, but his very soul, seeking to break his will, and corrupt his heart. But Morgoroth resisted, and he summoned forth all the remnants of his shattered mind, and he came in a great wave, crashing down upon Sauron’s manifested void. “You Sauron, are weak! From what I have seen of your so called glory, you wield terror and fear alone, and those are easily overcome. You may have power within Mordor, but I am the lord of my own heart and mind, and you no longer hold sway here. Begone, or suffer my divine retribution! From these hallowed, and wrath filled statements, the Dark Lord reeled back in great pain, as is he had been struck physically. In great haste, the void Sauron had woven around him, collapsed into a frail, delicate facade, and he fled from the Elf’s mind, defeated.

With his mind clear of the Dark Lord, the Elf returned to the realm of the physical. His mind now saw clearly, without the fog that had once clouded his perception. He finally left the limits of the stones, refreshed, with the Fire of Life now burning hot within him. He pivoted on his right heel, and spun round, to glance at his comrades, who were just preparing to enter the tortuous realm which he had now passed. “Good luck, my comrades in arms, for you will need it,” he murmured to himself. “Your trial will soon begin...” his voiced trailed off, into the bleak heavens of Mordor.