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Post by ringwraith on Aug 29, 2007 5:04:23 GMT -5
((ooc: btw, i must tell you that because there is no point of view in the book of LOTR of the nazgul, so i'm making up Morgomir's thoughts and personality - it might sound funny but i think the nazgul deserve at least SOME character to them xD)) Morgomir was trudging down the dusty path in no particular direction. He had been on this mission for ages, he had lost track of time. He was after that little halfling Frodo. He hissed to himself in frustration upn his black steed. How could a hobbit be carrying the Ring? Morgomir thought it was quite obserd (sp?) to be chasing this little creature all over middle earth - it was a miracle that he hadnt been caught by the orcs at least. But then again, he thought, orcs were NOT the cleverest beings - they had probably thought Frodo was one of them. Well, he was short enough. He chuckled to himself but then looked up and saw that the path was climbing up a hill. The dark canopy of trees blotted out the moon above him, but its blue light streamed through the trees illuminating himself and his steed when they walked into a pool of it - however, they blended in with the darkness like shadows and his steed walked with distinct pride but completely silently. The surrounding trees and plants seemed to shrink away from his shadow but to Morgomir this was quite normal. They reached the top of the hill and he stopped his horse at the top, the moonlight shining brightly behind him creating a perfect shot. He looked down and saw a village below him not too far away. the lights seemed to burn like fire in the tiny windows. He smiled wickedly to himself, though no one saw it beneath his hood, and he kicked his steed who reared up then galloped down the hill, Morgomir's tattered cloak flying out behind him like smoke in the wind, heading towards the village...
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Post by Ademar on Aug 29, 2007 13:45:11 GMT -5
Nestaron happend to be in this little town outside of his forest as the Nazgull approached. He had infact heard the warning, the tales of the ring-wraiths trying to find the ring once more...and he knew them to be true. Nestaron was infact a great friend to two of the members of the fellowship that had left rivendell not to long ago...Aragorn and Legolas he knew well. Well enough to have spoken with them a few days before...he knew that had put him in danger being around Frodo and all. He was certain the wraith's would be able to smell the spiritual energy of the ring on him.
Nestaron sat quietly in the tavern of the small villiage with a mug of warm cider in his hands. Being a ranger had proved difficult for the elf for many many years, but he sometimes enjoyed his solitude. He sat there silently praying for his friends and the fellowship that followed the young hobbit around. He also prayed for his own safety...he was in danger now should the Nazgul feel the presence of the ring anywhere near him...
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Post by Aurora on Aug 29, 2007 17:34:26 GMT -5
Arien had been here before, her forest not far from where this village stood. She had guarded that place so well that people felt safe to walk through it even at night all alone. She was an excellent fighter, well taught of course by the elves themselves. She knew a powerful move that only her and one other knew how to do. It was called the Spark of the Valor. Should this move come upon you, there's no escape. It attacks the vital organs in one swift and easy looking motion. And what impressed all elven kind was that she had in fact mastered it on her first try. It was unheard of. Elves spent much of their lives trying to learn it, and they never would.
Arien walked out of the dark foest and onto the dirt road. It was the main road, so she made her way down it. She needed to find a smith, her weapons had dulled so they could use a small fix up. Her hazel green eyes looked around and she looked up and down many streets, until she passed the fountain in the center of the town and without further delay it was on her right. She walked in and the smith greeted her. She said nothing, merely nodded her head and went to the table and placed her weapons on them. the greedy man was about to take them, knowing what he had to do, but before he did anything she stopped him. She grabbed his wrist firmly. "These, my friend, are extreamly valuable. Lose them, mistreat them, damage them, and you will find them at your throat as you draw your last breath. Understood?" The smiths eyes had become wide with fear, seeing as she was being completely serious. He understood though, so he placed them in a silk wrapping and started to work on them straight away.
"That's more like it.." -she said as she walked out of the smith's shop. She most definetly didn't want his dirty hands all over her most prized posestions. She walked out pleased with herself, a small smirk playing on her lips as her hazel hues looked around to see what she could do to occupy her time before her weapons were done. Although, it was only going to take a moment or two. She spotted something she liked though and walked over to it. her footsteps were light on the ground as she walked into the store and found the most amazing cufflinks. They matched her interesting attire well, without hezitation she went and placed three silver coins on the table and walked out without a word. She was placing them around her wirsts as she treaded over to the smith's shop once more.
Walking in, the blacksmith finished the last dagger and placed it in the silk wrapping with the utmost care and folded her sword and daggers inside. She nodded to him casually as if she had said nothing threatening to him before. "thank you kind sir, you're business has been well." She left him a gold piece on the table and placed them in their rightful place on her. When she had taken them off she had felt so empty, so she was happy to have them back. Satisfied with their possition, she walked outside once more. She needed a horse.
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Post by ringwraith on Aug 30, 2007 9:46:58 GMT -5
Morgomir slowed to a trot as he approached the small gate into the village - he didn't want to appear too suspicious... at the moment. He stopped his horse at the gate, as black as a shadow, the horse pawed the ground slightly and lowered his head gracefully. It shifted sideways so its rider was beside the eye-hole of the gate. As though he had knocked, the hole opened and a man looked through at Morgomir. "Who are you? What is your business here?" he asked sharply and suspiciously. Morgomir didn't look at him, but he looked down at the ground, his face hidden by the black hooded cloak which fell down past his horses' hooves like dark smoke. He spoke in a hoarse, harsh voice "It matters not who I am. Let me in and I will spare your life." The man looked at him suspiciously but then thought that this was not a man to trifle with... He opened the gate and let him in, feeling like the coward he was, but as Morgomir cantered past, he hacked off the gateman's head, the blade whistling through the air, glinting evilly in the moonlight. The man's body slumped to the ground, and his head flew through the air and landed in a dark corner. Morgomir slowed again to a walk and trudged through the village. He saw a woman exit a smithies (Arien) but only saw her out of the corner of his eye - she was not important to him. He trudged futher into the village where there were more people, feeling the scared stares of them as they skirted around him. He ignored them, but something had caught his attention; he could feel a familiar presence nearby, a faint waft of the Ring came to his nostrils. His horse sensed it too - it pranced slightly as it let out a low whinny, and Morgomir looked around him in every direction, sniffing the air. He caught the direction in which the smell was coming from and dismounted slowly, his armour chinking menacingly against his sword which hung by his side, still with the gateman's blood dripping from it, but no one would see it, for no one dared come close enough to see the ominous sight. His horse stood very still, waiting loyally for its master to return, and Morgomir approached the Inn where the smell was coming from, where Nestaron was... He entered the tavern quietly and slipped in by the shadows, looking around. The men nearest him were edging away and giving him half curious half scared looks, but Morgomir ignored them. He looked around some more, but didn't remove his hood. He would never remove his hood. He stepped around the tavern, his steps clinking slightly, for he wore metal bootswhich also served as shin-armour. His long black cloak, tattered and black like a ghostly fog drifted behind him. Suddenly his head whipped around to stare at Nestaron on the other side of the Inn. He began to make his way through the pub, shoving those who didn't move out of his path, approaching him rapidly...
((ooc: pleeeease don't kill his horse! ^^ lol))
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Post by Ademar on Aug 30, 2007 16:48:01 GMT -5
Nestaron sat in the corner of the room, right next to a beautiful stain-glass window. Staring at the table as he held a mug of cider in his hand. Thinking and praying still for his safety and that of his friends. But his eyes widened as his nose picked up the smell of blood traveling through the village. He smelt it way before the wraith had ever smelled him. He set the mug of cider down on the table and reached under the table where he had leaned his bow and sliver of arrows. Nestaron knew very well that he could not kill a ring-wraith, and he would be lucky to escape one. His elven ears heard the sound of the metal clanking as the evil dismounted its steed. Keeping his movements slow and little, no one would even know he was doing anything more than sitting perfectly still. Still staring at the table he reached into his pack and pulled out a cloth, soaked in a flammable liquid. One of the very few ways he knew how to buy himself time in a situation like this. He prayed silently to himself please...let him be alone... he pulled out one of his arrows from the sliver as the dark cloaked being stepped into the INN. He tied the cloth to the end of his arrow tightly. Suddenly the wraith found him and began walking towards him swiftly. The smell of the gatekeeper’s blood overwhelming Nestaron's senses as he made his move. Scraping a flint-rock across the wall he lit the arrow on fire and jumped atop the table. Knocking the arrow to his bow as it now began to become engulfed in flames he aimed it strait to where the beings heart would be and released the arrow, setting the wraith ablaze as he quickly turned and fired another arrow through the window and jumped outside. Placing his hood over his head he ran to the Inn’s stables and jumped atop his waiting horse. Sparrow was swift, and as he left the stables he knew it would not be long before the evil was hot on his trail. Riding down the dirt road of the village as fast as he could, but he started towards the nearby forest...hoping its guardian would sense the evil following him and help to lose the wraith...
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Post by Aurora on Aug 30, 2007 23:33:04 GMT -5
Arien could sense it. She had seen the wraith go through the crowd of people and instantly she knew what it was. The blood dripping from the blade of this black rider made her feel even more alarmed knowing that what had been spoken about in legend was here before her now. Her emerald green eyes widened suddenly and she sprinted back to her forest. There was said to have been nine, the only way through is through my forest and I will not allow for that to happen! She was of course talking to herself as she ran faster than the shadows, for some reason the forest line seemed to get further and further away, but then next thing she knew she was dashing into the thicket and following the shortcut to the forest path that cut through the eastern part of the forest. She pulled out her bow and held it at the ready, sneakily behind a tree. Patience is a virtue. Arien said to herself. She took in a deep breath and waited for something to come in or out of her forest.
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Post by ringwraith on Aug 31, 2007 4:57:50 GMT -5
Morgomir saw Nestaron draw the arrow and shoot at him with blazing fire at its tip. It engulfed him in the flames and he let out a chilling, piercing shriek that set veryone in the Inn to scramble - they fled the scene while the Wraith was still shrieking and writhing. Morgomir was furious as he managed to stumble out of the Inn and into the street. He saw the damed elf streak away on his steed, but first he needed to extinguish the fire... There was a water trough fot horses by the inn and Morgomir immediately flung himself into it. Once it was extinguished, he walked swiftly over to his steed and mounted quickly, his sodden cloak dripping all over the ground leaving great puddles of water. He kicked his horse into a gallop, whipping up the water as the horse ran. He could smell the elf, and he could tell he was heading for the forest, but he was far ahead. However, a wraith's steed is no ordinary horse; Morgomir's horse could match the speed of Shadowfax himself. They streaked out of the village, past the gate and up the hill on which he had first seen the village. He ran further, but pulled back the reigns just outside the forest. He could sense there was a guardian hidden amongst the trees. He hissed menacingly and his horse shifted uneasily - it yearned to run, but Morgomir held him fast. He sniffed the air and honed in on where the guardian was. He drew his sword fom the sheath and it glinted evilly in the eerie moonlight falling upon him. Then he kicked his horse into an immediate gallop and he charged into the forset at full speed. He hacked at teh darkness where the guardian was, but he was not sure wheather he had hit him/her, but he was not very interested in them - his job was to catch that elf... He streaked through the trees at amazing speed, his armour and battle gear clinking together, the heavy thuds of his horse's hooves and the panting of the horse, Morgomir's cloak streaming behind like dark smoke in the wind. He was catching up - he could smell it. He was beginning to hear his quarie's horse ahead - his hearing was not that of an elf's, but not as bad as a human's. Morgomir smirked evilly beneath his hood as he began to see the elf's horse ahead, flitting through the trees.... Morgomir could tell now that the elf did not posses the Ring itself, but he could judge, from the stale smell of It, that he had been near the Ring at one point, possibly even friends with the Ring Bearer... It was a tiring job, he thought to himself - everyone terrified of you, no allies or friends, but Morgomir had forgotten friends, love and companionship a long time ago; all he knew now was the cold of lonliness and his duty was his immortal life now. However, sometimes, flickers of his old life came to him - he remembered when he was once a great King of Numenor, and he remembered fleetingly, for a second, the feeling of friendship and loyalty, but those feelings were strange to him now - they only got in the way of his job and he always shoved these unwanted feelings and thoughts from his mind. He needed at all times to be focussed on serving his Master and finding the Ring....
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Post by Ademar on Aug 31, 2007 10:00:28 GMT -5
Nestaron and his steed raced through the thicket of trees and stale roots. The underbrush not as thick as other parts of the forest, but he used his surrounding to dodge the wraith. His ears picked up the suddenly clear sound of the metal clanging together behind him. The evil steed was much faster than his own. He took his hands from the reigns for a moment, his steed well trained enough to keep running through the thicket. The elf grabbed his bow and grabbed two of his arrows. Tying a strand of thin yet incredibly strong wire to the end of each arrow, he made sure the knots would hold against anything. He quickly knocked the first to his bow and fired it deep into a tree he had juast passed, and then to his left he almost immediatly fired the other arrow. The tip of the elven weapon found its mark into the thick of another tree. Nestaron prayed silently that the wraith would hardly have time to react and be tossed from his horse. If e indeed did perhaps the legendary guardian of this forest would stall the wraith, and give Nestaon the time he needed to escape. Surely he would be in much more danger than he thought if the evil one simply sliced through his wire, that was if it had the time enbough to react to his cunning plan.
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Post by ringwraith on Aug 31, 2007 12:15:42 GMT -5
Morgomir hardly had time to react to this simple but cunning trick. He ducked to avoid the wire, but not quickly enough. It sliced through the top of his left arm, gouging a huge chunk out of it almost cutting it free of the torso. Dark blood spouted from the huge wound and he screamed in anger and agony. It soaked through his cloak and ran down from him, down his steed's legs, leaving bloody hoof prints behind, ludicrusly easy to track; it splattered behind him like spilt paint on the leafy ground. He cursed and his anger seemed to fuel his steed to run even faster. Soon he was beside Nestaron on his right side, so the elf could see what he had done to Morgomir's left arm. Morgomir turned to face Nestaron, his eyes seeming to burn in the darkness covering his face, and suddenly his right arm swung over and around with the sword in his hand, the sword cutting into Nestaron's horse's side, but not fatally enough to kill him.
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Post by Aurora on Sept 1, 2007 16:08:52 GMT -5
Arien heard the wraith appproaching ever closer to the position where she was, she herself though she had been hidden quite well in the darkness. Her hazel green eyes looked to it as it was now before her. She doged two sllices, but one....small scratch mades its mark on her arm. She didn't even feel it until she felt the thick liquid of her blood running down her arm. A morgul blade, she would not last very long. She didn't move though, he could not see her.
Arien waited for him to pass and she felt as if she grew drowsy, she walked onto the dirt road, her sword in her limp hand as her right hand grasped the wound on the left. She was in pain, but she was fighting it. Her small body was fighting back this darkness.She continued to stagger up the road, yet it started to get longer for her. She didn't know who she was...or where she was going at this moment.
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Post by Ademar on Sept 3, 2007 11:18:28 GMT -5
Nestaron had pulled out another arrow seeing as the wraith was not only still on its horse, but right beside him. The long feathered bow and aimed it right at the wraith's head, but suddenly it slashed at him getting his horse badly. The steep let out a cry of pain as it stumbled and fell tot he forest floor. The elf was thrown from the saddle and hit the ground hard as well, slightly knocking the wind out of him. He looked up tho as the wraiths steed still ran for a moment before he could slow it. Nestaron pulled back the arrow as he lay on the ground and let it soar trough the air. It four its mark into the wraith's steed's back leg. Knowing full well he couldn't kill the evil, once man, but he could slow it down. Nestaron stood to his feet and went over to his horse as it was alright, the wound not fatal. He mounted his friend and whispered to him in Elvish. "No veren! Avo acheno" He squeezed the horse's sides and they began running off, a little slower du to his wound, but swiftly none the less. Suddenly Nestaron's nose picked up a scent, the smell of fresh blood. He rode back from whence he came to find a girl holding her arm, she looked sick already and he knew what it was, he cursed that blasted Morgul Blade. Nestaron rode up and dismounted rather quickly close to her and with no weapons drawn he walked up to her. "My Lady, My name is Nestaron, and I may be able to help you"
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Post by Aurora on Sept 3, 2007 13:56:00 GMT -5
Arien was seeing things, everything in her sight was in different colors, dark colors. She saw in black, dark blue, and grey. Desperately she fought this, Arien would not allow herself to fall to such a thing. Her eyes changed from a forest green to a black outline and blue eyes. It was strong, but she was stronger. She seemed lost careless even at the moement. It was not like her at all. She could see the horse thought, not the elf who now stood before her. He too had been pierced with the blade of a wraith.
She saw the poor animal in such pain as she. Until she saw the outline of a shape before her. She couldn't tell what it was, but it was a human, or elf, or something to that nature. She looked to it curiously as if she could not register what it was. Her wound was getting nasty though, it had a purple color to outline the wound and dark blue veins to surround it and the blood that was coming from it was so red it was almost black in itself. How she had not crossed over yet, not even she knew. He voice was still it's own as she seemed to have spoke something. "I...I.." Her body could take no more of it though.
Before Arien could even finish what she was saying she had collapsed onto the ground. She saw nothing but darkness and swirls of black clouds in her mind. She could feel nothing, yet she could hear it. The voice sounded muffled and yet she could understand what he was saying rom his tone of voice. Never had she felt so weak in her life. It was awkward and somehow she felt as though she had failed. Her limp body was there in the middle of the road, the wraith still out there and this elf now there trying to help her without knowing who she is at all.
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Post by ringwraith on Sept 4, 2007 3:48:50 GMT -5
Morgomir looked around in satisfaction as the elf's horse fell. He cursed himself. He should have stabbed the damn creature. However, just as he was about to wheel around to face his fallen opponent, the arrow hit his steed's leg, who let out a high pitched neigh and reared high. Morgomir clutched at his mane then whispered words in the Black Tongue to sooth him, but he was in pain and he bolted. Morgomir cursed and repeated the words hurriedly over and over again until the horse was still, though still restless. He dismounted and, still holding the reigs, bent down and examined the leg. He cursed the elf as he pulled out the arrow. His steed whinnied in pain, but didn't move - the result of harsh training of the orcs of Mordor. Morgomir however, did care for his steed - he was not completely emotionless. He extracted a bottle of harsh smelling liquid and poured a bit on to the wound, which immediately healed, though that leg would still be weaker than the rest. He remounted and kicked him viciously into a gallop. He was angry now; that elf was more than what he was worth. He had wasted time calming his steed but now he was back on track. He sniffed the air and detected the elf's faint scent along with another which he recognised as an elf's, but with a strange mix of human, which was tainted by his sword. An evil smile spread across his face as he headed straight for them - another wraith to join the Nine.... They galloped straight for them and burst into the clearing where they lay. He registered that the human/elf was lying on the ground, half-way through the Turning, then he saw the elf standing over her. He pulled the reigns so his steed stood upon the leafy ground, restlessly shifting as he looked at him. Then he spoke in the common tongue in a harsh, cold voice "Hand over the girl" he extended a black, gauntletted hand toward him, palm up.
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Post by Ademar on Sept 4, 2007 18:46:52 GMT -5
Nestaron's eyes widened as the girl passed out before him. She was turning, and quickly. He knew he had to act swiftly if he was going to save her. The elf name Nestaron, indeed means healer. Some would say he was not given this name, rather he earned it well. Although not so excellent as Lord Elrond himself in the ways of healing, he was exceptional himself. Days after he had met with Frodo and his dear friends Aragorn and Legolas, he had prepared an Elixir that would indeed help him if he ended up running into one of these blasted ring-wraiths. Nestaron knew all to well that it was not a matter of if, but when.
Quickly dropping to his knees and reaching into his pack he pulled out a vial full of a smooth blue liquid. He pulled out the stopper and ripped the girls shirt half way down her arm until he had a clear view of the wound. He began to faintly and almost silently pray in his native Elvish tongue for her safety and well being. He took the vial and stuck it open end first, directly onto er wound. She would let out a ghastly cry of pain as the entire vial of the elixir emptied into her arm.
This elixir he had made would not cure her, only Lord Elrond was that skilled as to heal the wound of a Morgul Blade. No, this elixir would not accomplish such a feet, but it was indeed powerful. It slowed down the poison's trail way down to little or no movement at all. Buying him time he desperately needed to save this girl's life.
He placed the empty vial into his pouch and pulled out some bandaging tape and wrapped it around her arm, stopping the immense bleeding. Nestaron picked her up into his arms. She would not pass tot he dark realm now, not for a long while...it may seem somewhat cruel, prolonging her suffering, for he knew the turning would be painful, but he could save her completely now.
As he turned to mount his steed the Blasted irritating wraith came right back to him. Mounted on his horse once again. he rode up right behind Nestaron's own steed and he began to think quickly as the wraith demanded for the girl. Nestaron rolled his eyes mockingly and yelled loudly as he looked directly into the hood of the wraith, seeing nothing but darkness. "No dhínen!!" He then whistled a few notes and his horse reared and bucked wildly until its back legs rose through the air and kicked the wraith right in its face, sending the fowl demon soaring through the air and landing hard and violently on the forest floor.
Nestaron couldn't help but laugh slightly for just a moment as he calmed his horse and set the girl atop its saddle. He thought quickly for a second more and took out some wire and quickly tied it to the wraith's horse's front legs and then to a tree beside it. He could waste no more time than he had now. he ran and leaped atop his horse behind the girl and grabbed the reigns and kicked the horses sides as they rode off into the night as swiftly as they could. "Bado na Imladris!!" He yelled to his steed as they powered down the dirt roads and sneaking also through the forest, leaving the wraith far far behind.
((elvish: BE SILENT!! --- Go to Rivendell!!))
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Post by ringwraith on Sept 5, 2007 10:22:28 GMT -5
Morgomir hit the forset floor boiling with fury. He picked himself up slowly as the elf darted away. He watched them leave with a triumphant heir as he walked over to his steed and cut the wire loose with the Morgul Blade, which whithered and shrivelled into a black mass. He watched it writhe calmly then mounted his steed again. If he had been a normal human, he would be mortally wounded, but the unnatural evil possessing him kept him alive. He nudged the black horse into a walk along the path where the elf had just took flight. The horse and rider suddenly leapt into a canter along the winding dirt path until they reached the end of the forest and where the fields opened up in front of him, sweeping across the horizon, illuminated dully in moonlight. Far, far away, he could see the distant shapes of a horse fleeing into the night - a wraith's eyesight is fantastic in teh night, as they fear the sun and are practically nocturnal. Horse and rider stood still as a rock in the dark, outlined in silver, watching the horse in the distance. Morgomir broke the eerie silence of the night with the Black Speech of Mordor, of which was directed towards the girl falling into darkness. He spoke to her of the wonders and rewards the Dark lord could offer her, and what she should do... He told her to fight the elf beside her and knock him off his horse. He lifted his hand sharply and Arien sat up, under his control....
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