Tol-in-Gaurhoth XXXVI Game Thread - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Feanor of the Peredhil · 07-25-2007, 06:00 PM

The handsome man, tall, dashing, debonair, reaches across the slim gap between their mounts and takes his lady's hand in the cool evening air. She smiles happily up to him, absently wondering when they'll reach the small town to which they travel. He is a scholar, an old master of lost lore, and word has come to them of a forest village that carries a taint of uncertainty, some curse or superstition. Desiring to learn, he packed his belongings and bribed his beloved with soft kisses and sweet promises of a happily ever after. They had ridden with the break of dawn each day for many long days. Now they travel onward, just a few more miles from their destination.

He thinks of their last stop, a roadside establishment many miles behind them. He thinks of the grizzled old man and the grey haired woman by the fire.

"So sweet in these times of trouble to see young love..." the old woman cooed through her toothless gums. The young woman had smiled, feeling her husband's hand in hers, his fingers intertwined, keeping dangers of every sort far from her. She thanked the old woman quietly and sat to gossip quietly while her husband spoke with the old man.

From across the room she'd heard the old man's cry. "You cannot be meaning to take so fair and sweet a lass as yon to such a dark and feral land! It is no place for an innocent child such as her!"

"She is no child, grandfather." The man had replied. "Her mind is her own, and it is her choice to accompany me."

"Newfangled, that's what I call that." he had grumbled, mentioning his day and a time when women's minds were their husband's.

"We will continue onward." The man had said, smiling to his wife across the hall. Her brief concern had washed away with her husband's obvious happiness and certainty. She had turned her attention back to the old woman.

They had left some time later, well stocked and ready for the final hours of riding.

She leans across the space to kiss her husband and he tells her of her beauty and his undying love.

"What tale of these lands have we come to learn, my love?" she asks.

"Sorrow, mostly." he admits. "Beasts disguised as men, or men with beastly natures. I cannot be sure. But the rustic beliefs of the locals will surely be of interest."

"That they will, dearest."

The woods seem to close around them as the sun sets. From the trees they hear sounds. The man strings his bow and casually places an arrow on the taut string, letting his lady's hand fall.

"Show yourself!" he cries toward the trees. They hear laughter.

From between two elders comes a shape, human, though unidentifiable in the shadows.

"We seek a village. Can you help us?" he asks, placing himself between this dark stranger and his wife.

"You will not like our help."

From behind him, the man hears the scream of his beloved wife. While one werewolf distracted him, two had taken her. At the sound of her attack, he had turned; it was all the werewolf needed.

In bloody seconds it was over. Boromir88 and Fea lay side by side, clutching for each other's hands against the coming of dark cold pain. They knew this to be their end.

"I will meet you in our ever after, beloved..." he whispers to her, straining to brush away her tears. His blood pools faintly around him, dammed by the forest floor. Her flesh, though rent by claws and teeth, was still the most beautiful he had ever seen.

"Always, my dearest... I am always yours..." she coughs, before closing her eyes.

Watching from above them with wicked grins, the werewolves transform once more to humans, absently watching the life pour from the shells below them.

"Pity..." says one with no trace of pity audible, "It does look like we've ended young love so soon..."

"With love comes pain." says another sanctimoniously.

"We've saved them from their own nauseating story." laughs the third. "And to think... now ours truly begins."

---

The game runs as follows:

3 Wolves
1 Seer
# Ordos

23 hour Days and Nights, beginning at 10AM EST and ending at 9AM EST. Wolves and Seer should get their pick in by 9AM EST to give enough time to write a decent narration which will then be posted, unless interruptions arise, by 10AM EST. Any village votes posted after 9AM EST will be ignored.

No retractable votes. No edits for any reason, including to say you cross-posted or to fix spelling errors. If you need to say something else about your post, double post.

Basic rules about communication apply. If you're a wolf, you can only PM your fellow wolves at Night. Ordos can't chat amongst themselves excepting during Day times on the game thread. Anybody can PM the mods at all times.

Multiple lynchings are allowed.

All players are to remain invisible at all times during the duration of their game life. Once you're dead, you can turn back your visibility, but no ghost discussions with the living. Dead [wo]men tell no tales.

Players:

The Saucepan Man
Meneltarmacil
Lalwendë
the phantom
Brinniel
Holbytlass
Gil-Galad
Durelin
Shastanis Althreduin
Kath
Mithalwen
Legate of Amon Lanc
CaptainofDespair

07-25-2007, 06:00 PM	#1
Feanor of the Peredhil La Belle Dame sans Merci Join Date: Feb 2003 Location: perpetual uncertainty Posts: 5,517	Tol-in-Gaurhoth XXXVI Game Thread The handsome man, tall, dashing, debonair, reaches across the slim gap between their mounts and takes his lady's hand in the cool evening air. She smiles happily up to him, absently wondering when they'll reach the small town to which they travel. He is a scholar, an old master of lost lore, and word has come to them of a forest village that carries a taint of uncertainty, some curse or superstition. Desiring to learn, he packed his belongings and bribed his beloved with soft kisses and sweet promises of a happily ever after. They had ridden with the break of dawn each day for many long days. Now they travel onward, just a few more miles from their destination. He thinks of their last stop, a roadside establishment many miles behind them. He thinks of the grizzled old man and the grey haired woman by the fire. "So sweet in these times of trouble to see young love..." the old woman cooed through her toothless gums. The young woman had smiled, feeling her husband's hand in hers, his fingers intertwined, keeping dangers of every sort far from her. She thanked the old woman quietly and sat to gossip quietly while her husband spoke with the old man. From across the room she'd heard the old man's cry. "You cannot be meaning to take so fair and sweet a lass as yon to such a dark and feral land! It is no place for an innocent child such as her!" "She is no child, grandfather." The man had replied. "Her mind is her own, and it is her choice to accompany me." "Newfangled, that's what I call that." he had grumbled, mentioning his day and a time when women's minds were their husband's. "We will continue onward." The man had said, smiling to his wife across the hall. Her brief concern had washed away with her husband's obvious happiness and certainty. She had turned her attention back to the old woman. They had left some time later, well stocked and ready for the final hours of riding. She leans across the space to kiss her husband and he tells her of her beauty and his undying love. "What tale of these lands have we come to learn, my love?" she asks. "Sorrow, mostly." he admits. "Beasts disguised as men, or men with beastly natures. I cannot be sure. But the rustic beliefs of the locals will surely be of interest." "That they will, dearest." The woods seem to close around them as the sun sets. From the trees they hear sounds. The man strings his bow and casually places an arrow on the taut string, letting his lady's hand fall. "Show yourself!" he cries toward the trees. They hear laughter. From between two elders comes a shape, human, though unidentifiable in the shadows. "We seek a village. Can you help us?" he asks, placing himself between this dark stranger and his wife. "You will not like our help." From behind him, the man hears the scream of his beloved wife. While one werewolf distracted him, two had taken her. At the sound of her attack, he had turned; it was all the werewolf needed. In bloody seconds it was over. Boromir88 and Fea lay side by side, clutching for each other's hands against the coming of dark cold pain. They knew this to be their end. "I will meet you in our ever after, beloved..." he whispers to her, straining to brush away her tears. His blood pools faintly around him, dammed by the forest floor. Her flesh, though rent by claws and teeth, was still the most beautiful he had ever seen. "Always, my dearest... I am always yours..." she coughs, before closing her eyes. Watching from above them with wicked grins, the werewolves transform once more to humans, absently watching the life pour from the shells below them. "Pity..." says one with no trace of pity audible, "It does look like we've ended young love so soon..." "With love comes pain." says another sanctimoniously. "We've saved them from their own nauseating story." laughs the third. "And to think... now ours truly begins." --- The game runs as follows: 3 Wolves 1 Seer # Ordos 23 hour Days and Nights, beginning at 10AM EST and ending at 9AM EST. Wolves and Seer should get their pick in by 9AM EST to give enough time to write a decent narration which will then be posted, unless interruptions arise, by 10AM EST. Any village votes posted after 9AM EST will be ignored. No retractable votes. No edits for any reason, including to say you cross-posted or to fix spelling errors. If you need to say something else about your post, double post. Basic rules about communication apply. If you're a wolf, you can only PM your fellow wolves at Night. Ordos can't chat amongst themselves excepting during Day times on the game thread. Anybody can PM the mods at all times. Multiple lynchings are allowed. All players are to remain invisible at all times during the duration of their game life. Once you're dead, you can turn back your visibility, but no ghost discussions with the living. Dead [wo]men tell no tales. Players: The Saucepan Man Meneltarmacil Lalwendë the phantom Brinniel Holbytlass Gil-Galad Durelin Shastanis Althreduin Kath Mithalwen Legate of Amon Lanc CaptainofDespair