RP54: The War of the Ungodly

[Ciryaher]

The full title of this rp is The War of the Ungodly and the New Rise of the Dark

I
Morgoth Bauglir, foe of the world, was cast into the void, and there he brooded, plotting his revenge for the Great End, but it dawned upon him to cause havoc in Arda as a final act of his malice. He found one of his powerful servants wandering in the void and came to her.

"Thing of Death, my Creation of Woe! Now is the time for you to descend upon the Earth and destroy all that you may. Unite the forces of darkness, and rise against the new kingdom of Men that threatens to forever put the history of the World in their hands!"

The fell spirit bowed low, and departed the presence of Morgoth Bauglir. It devised a form for itself and became the image of an elven female, dark and terrible to behold. For an instant, the barrier of the Void wavered at Morgoth's intent, and the being slipped through.

Moraukiel she was named, for she was a demon of the blackest heart. More than one form she would take, ere the end. Down through the layers of Ea she came, like a black fireball, burning and severing the airs of the world through her descent.

[Aerin]

The skies boiled and all was dark. Clouds writhed as if they were wild animals who had smelled blood, and were fighting their restraints to break free. Curious shapes flitted about; never in full view, but their presence was undisputable. Flashes of lightning lit the sky with strange colours, illuminating the ground for a mere moment before once again plunging the land into darkness. Shadows that had once been docile and quiet, now leapt about in a frenzied dance.

At once, all was silent; the earth itself seemed to still, as if in anticipation. Black clouds pulled back to reveal a marvellous figure, unmoving as stone.
Her hair was dark as the clouds that had set her down; her skin as pale as alabaster; long black lashes gently swept down her cheeks; and a dress as black as the night sky clung to her slender, tall form.
Nothing moved; all was deathly quiet. Even the air did not dare disturb one lock of her long hair. All was still.

She opened her eyes.

Her eyes were as hard and pitiless as the Void. Although the rest of her lived, her eyes did not; they reflected the cruelties of her Master and of the Void. No spark would ever light those spheres of black, no feeling would ever be shown, no compassion lessen the hatred.
Stretching her arms above her head, Moraukiel began to recite age-old chants. The skies once again roiled; the air grew hot and menacing, and the shadows shrieked wildly with delight.

Power of Melkor
I summon thee,
Fell spirits, I implore
To once again reign free

With this I charge you
Follow my command
Serve me well and true
That you might be at your Master's hand

The winds howled, the earth shook, animals hid, and people quailed.
All was once again quiet. Slowly, one by one, the spirits appeared to her, in the dark and mysterious ways by which their Master had once worked.

Once the spirits were assembled in before her, she laughed. A laugh so beautiful it was terrible; any who heard her laughter were struck mad. Her flawless features were alight with a monstrous pleasure.
With the spirits behind her, she set off to accomplish Morgoth's will on Ea.

[Ciryaher]

Tar-Vardamir sat on his throne and pondered the signs that all had seen the previous day. Blackness, thunder, chaos...what could this mean? He didn't know who to ask. The priests and sages would not speak, and the regular doomspeakers had their own ideas...but Vardamir knew that this could surely not be the End.

Not knowing what mortal to seek council in, he decided to seek the aid of the Powers. So, the afternoon after the calamity first began, he made his way up to the sacred hallow on the peak of Meneltarma and asked Eru for counsel on this matter.

[Talierin]

At the very top of the mountain, circled by 5 rowan trees, there was a small spring and pool, bubbling up to begin its trek down the mountain to the sea, the headwaters of the Siril. Now the maia of this pool heard the King approach, and rose up out of her pool to speak to him. "Hail, my King! I am Coirenen, Maia of this pool."

Hearing her voice like the bubbling of the spring, the King looked down from the sky, and saw the maia in the water. Slender as a reed, her skin was pale, and her hair the faint blue of the sky reflected in the pool. She wore rainment of a fabric that appeared like cascading water, nearly indistinguishable from the water itself. "Greetings, Fair Maia of Eru! I have come for counsel. Yesterday there was seen terrible things towards the northwest over the great continent, and none of my sages or priests will speak of it nor, I believe, know what it was. So I have come here, O Servant of Eru, for you are of the land and the waters and must certainly feel what hath it was."

The maia's face grew grave. "Yes, I know what this is. A shadow has come and is growing like a poisonous blight across the land. Morgoth, the ancient Enemy, hath sent one of his one through the Void into Arda, to do his will upon it. Even now it is strangling my fair river-sisters. That much I know."

[Aerin]

Moraukiel had walked for some days without seeing any sign of life; all life fled before her, quivering in terror. No birds flew in the sky, no small animals scampered, not even insects buzzed about. All was motionless as death.

She heard him long before he came into view. He was bent nearly double, trying to dig out a small object from the hard, sun-baked ground. Grunting and sweating, he worked to pry it from the earth. Silently approaching, she stood nearly touching him when he finally noticed her presence.
With a gasp, he fell back, unable to utter a sound; instead, he merely gaped open-mouthed at her.

Her voice was soft and deceiving, “What land is this?”

The man wet his lips with his tongue several times before he could force an answer out, “F-f-far Harad, my lady.”

Moraukiel questioned the man until she had all the answers she desired; by the time she was finished, his dark skin glistened with sweat not only from the harsh sun, but from the intensity of her eyes as well. His hands clenched spastically in the dirt, willing to keep himself from showing weakness.

A slight smile played across her features as she worked what information she wanted out of the poor wretch. She delighted in the turmoil that went on in his mind; such wonderful fear and pain! She reveled in the feeling of fear; it was what she thrived on.

Once she was satisfied with what she had obtained, she bade the Haradrim to rise. He slowly got to his feet, all the while keeping a wary eye on her.
With a smile, she reached out as if to lay a hand on his shoulder, but grabbed his throat instead. A look of pure horror passed across his face as her iron-like fingers closed in on his windpipe and strangled him.
Once he his heart had stopped beating, she released him and let his corpse fall to the ground, discarded.

Completely ignoring the dead body, Moraukiel continued her journey, the forces of darkness shadowing her footsteps.

The dark blight spread across Eä.

[Morwen]

The sun parted the leaves and dazzled the black crown of a raven. It cawed uncertainly, seeking in vain its vanished master. The willows surrounding it swayed slightly in a breeze. It smelled of rain, the breeze. It smelled of a storm.
Quite certain that its master would rejoice and come forth for the joy of the tempest, it left its undsteady perch and glided to an outcrop of stone. Below, in a cleft of the stone, smoke curled about in a lazy haze. The cabin rested comfortably within the little cleft. Ivy plaited itself about the facade. The trees around it shaded it. Newly fallen leaves of russet danced in devils about the forest. The shadows lengthened. A single shard fell and splattered to the earth. The forest was silent. All life had stopped.
Then they came, dewy with the light of the stars. They cascaded, nay, poured from the heights and shattered the silence with their thunder.
Then they came, renewed with the strength of life. They crawled and flew, they ran and galloped; and they slithered and bounced. But one did not do as they. This one paced, cloacked, into the shooting shards camly, without the vehemency of need. A marble hand extended, the lips sang; a whistle. The raven alighted and landed peacefully on the dark shoulder. Two feet crossed ground untroddened. A figure was reflected in a pool never seen. She journeyed from the folds of a forest wrapped in the blanket of grey mountains.

[Ciryaher]

There was panic throughout Andûnië, and the King paced anxiously in his chambers. "This can not be happening," he muttered to himself.

The day before, a black cloud of evil crossed the sky; it's prow blazing with some demonic flame. It blotted out the afternoon sun and blanketed the earth in a dun haze. The people of Nûmenorë believed that they were indeed in the final moment of the World, and that a great and cataclysmic end was nigh.

Vardamir's soothing words and promises that no hope should falter were unheeded, and anarchy began to grip the land. Deciding that he must take back control, he dispatched the infantries to bring order, while he himself went to each city, town, and village to bring the words of Coirënen to the people.

He spoke first to a great crowd in Rómenna:

My people, the voices of doom that speak in the towns should not be heeded, for upon the yestre, I did speak with an emissary of Ilúvatar! She did reveal unto me that this is the coming of a Foe; a servant of the Dark Lord who now abides in the Void without. It is not the Great End--the Dagor Dagorlad--as many of you had feared. Be not afraid for the doom of the world, but nevertheless, my people, we must fight this evil. We are strong, and we have the blessing of the Ainur. We must go back to the Great Lands and beat back this new foe!

And the crowds cheered and took heart wherever he spoke these words. So it was that the Edain of Nûmenorë prepared to go once more to Middle-Earth to wage war with the Enemy.