Book III - Shadows of Angmar

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Book III - Shadows of Angmar

Postby Felaion » Tue Dec 23, 2008 1:29 pm

Captain Taurchil of the Yeoman's Northern Outriders was standing silently atop an ancient, crumbling structure. Once built by the Men that ruled this region, now it served only as a roost for birds and a nest for forest animals, the age-old walls long since degraded to dust and wreckage. Staring out to the South-East, through the trees of this wood, deep within the heart of the Shire, the Gondorian could just make out the smoke of cooking-fires rising peacefully from a small Halfling settlement. His form unmmoving, unchaged by the gentle wind that whiped around his azure cloak, flapping it gently in the breeze. With an expression that could have been carved from rock itself, so grim and determined, framing crystal eyes that would shine in the fading light of the evening.

"My Lord?" spoke a male voice from a flight of degrading steps that led up to the forlorn structure. When the Captain gave him no responce, the man spoke again, "I have completed my survey of the area. No humanoid has passed this area in many months."
Without moving his eyes from their position, fixed upon the horison, Taurchil spoke. "Thank you, Recruit Deonnyn, at ease. Set up camp where you think appropriate. Halflings hide from our kind, so we won't trouble them by passing through their towns. Dismissed."
Turning to make his way back down the crumbled stairs, Deonnyn pauses, "Captain, Sir? If I may, what troubles you?"
Turning his head slightly to the right, Taurchil breaks his line of sight towards the Halfling settlement. "Memories, Deonnyn. It's difficult to know what I should do now. My own Captain is dead, and my guide has left these parts of the world. I'm trying to decide what's best."
As he turns back towards the woods, readying to set up camp, Deonnyn says, "For what it's worth, Sir, I try to remember times when those we believed in did speak. That somtimes helps me."
"Thank you, Deonnyn." Taurchil utters, turning his eyes back towards the Halfling settlement. With his eyes back upon the distant township, the Captain began to think back to times when his Captain or Guide had spoken to him.

Thick clouds of black smoke rise steadily from the Halfling settlement. Tall pillars of flame lick at the sky, casting the entire land in a red hue. Off to the distance, larger patches of red flame and black smoke rise from burning farms and towns all across the Shire. Screams and cries for help echo across the woods. Halfings in chains are beaten and whiped onto the roads, slugging their way to the east. One halfling, garbed in the green but bloodied attire of a Bounder, lies motionless upon a pile of Bounder corpses in the centre of the settlement. Flicking his eyes open, Taurchil is greeted by a breath of cold air, trickling across his face. Deonnyn sleeps soundly on the ground nearby. "Knowledge and insight..." Collapsing his head against the cloak being used as a spartan pillow, Taurchil's mind trickled back into the Song. A wide, open valley opens up below him. One hilltop looks down over it, where two great armies clash together. Standing high upon the hilltop, a tall elf raises his staff, calling out words in the Fair Tounge. Their properties rend open the dark clouds of the necromancer, raining light down upon the Free Peoples below. The sky turns black again, darkned with the forms of countless crude arrows that fall down upon the elf, slamming hard into his physical body, dragging him down to the ground. "Somtimes Ignorance is bliss..." Waking once again with a ragged inhalation of breath, Taurchil pushes himself to his feet, making his way up the steps that lead back to the crumbled building. Stepping through the archway, his eyes are filled with sights. A sword gleams in the moonlight, set securely within the flagstones in the centre of the ring. To his left, a dark-skinned woman, covered in rippling muscles wrestles with a brown-haired man. To his right, a red-haired woman is doing push-ups, under the watchfull gaze of a marble-featured elf. "What you have seen... it is what will come to pass, should you, and other companies... fail."

"Captain, Sir? You havn't spoken all morning. Is somthing the matter?" spoke Deonnyn as he stepped over another fallen log in the forest as the pair made their way north-east.
"I just had a chance to remind myself what's at stake in this War, Deonnyn." said the Captain as he made his way up the overgrown track. One of his hands absently clenched around a small wooden box within his pocket. Black mountains surrounded a man, crouched low, his dirty smeared face in anquish and coated with tears as he holds a woman's head in his arms. Her body, soaked in blood and clearly dead. Taurchil had stopped, one hand against his forehead as he frowned darkly, uttering words beneath his breath as Deonnyn looked on in puzzlement. "I would die before I let this company fail..." Two men stood within the fields of an abandoned farm, standing within a whole host of soldiers. Some in heavy plated armour, wielding spears and shields with a white tree and stars set upon them. Others held axes and roundshields, blonde hair waving in the morning breeze. The two men clapped each other on the shoulder, turning towards the dark shadow that faced them. With a loud battlecry, Phindor and Curubor led the charge into the shadow.

"While those who need protecting still live, there will always be hope."
Master Vagandro Rist - Jedi Sage & Diplomat
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