The Towers of No Return: Might

"Going to Mordor!" Cried Pippin. "I hope it won’t come to that!"
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The Towers Of No Return: Tower of Might


Not far from Carach Angren are the fabled Towers of No Return, a training ground where warriors and the wise (and the not so wise) go to prove themselves...

As you make your way to the gate of the Tower of Might, you are greeted by the current keeper, an old female Uruk-hai named Karaghan, who takes your name for the lists.

She shows you in and you find the Towers are a misnomer: the Tower of Might is more of a dungeon, where you must travel deeper and deeper and face various creatures with differing weapons to find out just how far you can go... whereas the Tower of Knowledge is a tower indeed, where you must answer questions both speculative and factual to the satisfaction of the Loremasters* within before you can venture up to the next level. This thread is for the Tower of Might only, to take on the Tower of Knowledge, go HERE.

*Disclaimer: no actual loremasters involved with the playing of this game

To start, RP entering the gatehouse and speaking to Karaghan.

Posts will count towards Army renown where made for Tower of Might. You will not be allowed your own weapons and equipment, but must use what you find within each level to fight your opponents. You may godmode your opponents. Your posts will be scored based on use of your weapon, descriptions, and flair! If your score is particularly low or I’m feeling particularly evil I may make you repeat the level.


-Have fun - or don’t, I’m not the boss of you
-I’ll update in red so pls avoid that colour
-At the start of your post please state in bold what level you are at and what equipment you have chosen


Level One: @Aethelu
Level Two: @Frosty the Snowman @Thalionwen @Dimcairien Luiniel
Level Three: @Aduchil
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Gatehouse, Tower of Might
Armed with only his considerable wit, Aduchil strode with confidence towards the entrance. In all his long years, he had braved countless dangers and performed many a feat of physical might. On this day, he would take the final challenge. He would breach the Tower of Might, defeating all its obstacles - or die trying, in which case he would have to mope around in Mandos' halls for a millennium or two until reincarnation. Boring, but a fitting punishment for losing.

Underneath his feet, the tower stretched on downwards. He was unsure about the architectural nomenclature involved in this place, but then again, what did he care. Up, down, the only way that mattered was forward. He reached the gatehouse, making his bold entry. "You there, good sir! Pardon me!"

Karaghan turned around to stare at the Elf. "Name."

"Aduchil should suffice, my good man. I'm here for the Tower of Might!"

She stared at him. "Right."

"As you can see, I carry no armour, no helm, nor weapons of any kind. Not even a letter opener or a razor blade." He blinked. "You know, because I am an Elf? We do not get beards? Never mind, wrong crowd. That would have been hilarious in Lórien. Not in Mithlond, mind you, Cirdan is very sensitive about anyone mentioning beards. So anyway, how do I proceed?"

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Gatehouse, Tower of Might

Gorfank trampled up to the Tower of Might, even though a more likely title would be the Pit of Might as it went down into the ground instead of up into the air. It was the stuff of legends. He wouldn't consider himself the brightest of orcs, but he was a fair fighter and if it was a matter of fists, he had a good chance of clobbering the opponent.

He went up to the old Uruk-hai, Karaghan, at the entrance and said, "Someday I will kill you," in greeting. When asked for a name, he answered curtly, "Gorfank. I am here to challenge the Tower of Might."
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Búrzghâsh
The Gatehouse, Tower of Might
1 Renown


Búrzghâsh wanted to join the Black Host, had wanted to his whole life (despite that whole life being only around eight years) but he had been rejected the last he time went to the Carhost. They had said something along the lines of “lacking experience” and “lacking size.” His giant hulking brother, of course, they took without a second thought but poor Búrzghâsh had been left out in gasping dust. The last three months had were then spent on trying to find a way to gain this experience necessary to enter. It had all seemed hopeless until he overheard something in the pub he worked at as a snaga. There was a place called the Tower of Might. A place where he could fight against monsters of all sorts and be awarded for it all.
It didn’t look much like a tower. In fact, when he arrived the next morning, all eager and enthusiastic, it looked more like a dungeon. Was he at the right place? There was a uruk standing guard at the gatehouse, perhaps she would know.
“I’m looking for the Tower of Might,” he said, puffin his chest out as much as he could without looking like a peacock. “This the place?”
The uruk nodded, looking unimpressed at Búrzghâsh’s small stature. She wrote something down on a wax tablet and laughed, giving Búrzghâsh another once over.
“You sure you can to the write place, little one? That place is gonna eat you alive.”
Búrzghâsh, with a deep spine popping breath, nodded. “Aye, I come ta get some experience.”
She muttered something he couldn’t quite hear but gave him an approving nod. “Go on ahead.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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@Aduchil @Dimcairien Luiniel @Frosty the Snowman

Karaghan finds beard jokes hilarious, but doesn’t laugh because she’s a professional.

“To challenge the Tower of Might, lay down all your weapons and armour (although I do advise keeping at least some clothes on). Your challenge awaits you in a series of caves just below. Go down the stairs into the first chamber, warrior, and meet your challenge. You may use only whatever you find, and your wits.”


LEVEL ONE

You find a ROPE as your weapon.

An average sized goblin crawls out to face you as your opponent. He isn’t armed and doesn’t seem so tough - but you never know with goblins. Defeat him however you can to reach Level 2.


NEWCOMERS MAY JOIN AT ANY TIME: approach the Gatehouse, or leap straight into Level One if you prefer combining it with your introduction post.
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Level one, rope

"Much obliged," Aduchil told Karaghan, tipping his non-existent hat. He had already stripped himself of weapons (using a stripping routine perfected during karaoke nights at the Hollow, to much applause of the local clientele) and thus continued through the gatehouse to enter the first cave. "Bit damp," he noticed. Good thing he waxed these boots before coming here, or this would be murder on the leather. "Bit dark." Aduchil checked his pockets for his emergency kitten before he remembered that no weapons were allowed. No eyes of the cat to help him here. Instead, he sat down and whistled a merry tune, passing time until his eyes became adjusted to the dark. "Ninety-nine orcs on a wall," he began to sing. "Ninety-nine orcs on a wall! Take one down, defenestrate it from the tallest tower in Lindon, ninety-eight orcs on a wall!"

He became so engrossed in the song, it took him a while to recall why he was here. "Five orcs on a wall! Hullo, what's this," he said to himself, his eyes finally adjusted. "Bit of rope." He walked over and bent down to pick up long threads of hemp. "Perfect for a high elf," he thought to himself. He slung it over his shoulder and began to walk deeper into the cave.

A dreadful being jumped out in front of him! A start went through Aduchil until he realised it was a goblin. Half his height. "Aw, you're a cute little abomination, aren't you!" He extended a finger to tickle the goblin under its chin. It promptly bit down. "Vile abomination!" Aduchil recoiled, his finger now pumping with pain. Yet an idea came to him. Time to utilise his Elven dexterity.

He grabbed the rope and began weaving it around his own hands and arms. With intricate movements, he mesmerised the goblin, using the rope to weave shapes of birds and fish between his fingers. "Now you!" Aduchil told the goblin. "That's right, put out your arms!" The goblin did so, and Aduchil twisted the rope around, evoking the same forms as before to delight the little critter. A few more twists and turns, and Aduchil could pull the rope tightly together, leaving the goblin's arms tied up. "Hah! Serves you right." Aduchil snapped his teeth together, pretending to bite back, though he did not go through with it - Elven constitution might keep him from getting sick from goblin rot, but he would never wash the taste out. Stretching his neck, Aduchil whistled as he continued. "Ninety-nine orcs on a wall!"

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The Gatehouse, Tower of Might

"THE TOWER OF MIGHT," Thalionwen read aloud to herself, standing outside the tower, presumably of might, which rose up before her. "Sounds like fun!!!"

It seemed as interesting and potentially harmful a place as any other she'd come across in Mordor, so without hesitation, Thali made her way to the gatehouse, a spring in her step and a gleam in her eyes.

"Hello?" she called into the gloom, sure at first that the place was empty. "Is anyone here?"

But then an old and wizened Uruk-hai, Karaghan, stirred in the shadows, giving Thali a doubtful look.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't see you there," Thalionwen apologized hurriedly. You had to get your apologies in quickly amongst minions, otherwise you were liable to have your arms torn off.

Beaming, Thali took another step forward. "I would like to ascend the Tower of Might!!!! It's my day off at the Slaughter House and this sounds like fun. I come unarmed, just as you see me. I do have a question before I start, though--if I make it to the top, does that mean everyone will have to refer to me as Thalionwen the Mighty? I rather like that."
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 1
2 Renown


Goblins. Yes they were more pest than threat, but then Búrzghâsh was not very tall and they were plenty threatening to him. He had never faced one like this before. There was nowhere to hide, no bog pool or bramble patch he could hide in and ambush.
As Búrzghâsh stepped through the door, a piece of rough twine rope hung limply to his left. The goblin burst out of the shadows with a squeaky warcry, his arms pinwheeling as he rushed forward. Without having a second to think, Búrzghâsh grabbed the rope and yanked it off the hook. The goblin leapt into the air, its green, long-taloned fingers snapping and grasping. Búrzghâsh dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the goblin as it rolled passed him.
A surge of ferocity came upon Búrzghâsh then, a bloodlust that sharpened his senses. He howled his own wordless warcry and, wielding the pit of rope like a whip. He tried to slash the goblin before it managed to right itself but his wrists were not strong enough and the strike landed more on the things chest than the face, where he had aimed. He cursed.
The goblin regained his footing and, just when Búrzghâsh thought he was going to lunge again, grabbed the dangling end of the rope that Búrzghâsh had neglected to pull back. A tug-o’-war ensued, undersized orc versus goblin, It felt like the contest lasted minutes, but in reality it only lasted a few seconds. Búrzghâsh’s hands were getting slick with sweat and the twine of the rope was digging into his skin. He let go of the rope, letting the goblin fly backwards, and rushed him all in the same movement.
They fell in a heap. Búrzghâsh felt something bite down in his bicep. He screeched and punched blindly, his fist only half connected with toothy, malodorous mouth. He felt the teeth scrape his knuckles but none of the pain normally associated with such an injury. He punched again, connected better this time, landing on the nose of the goblin who yelped and released his hold. Búrzghâsh wasted no time twisting his legs around and tripping the goblin before he could stand back up. Búrzghâsh fumbled for the rope and, once his fingers tightened around the twine, wrapped it around his knuckles. He leapt onto the fallen body of the goblin, who hadn’t tried to get away, and began to pommel as hard as he could. The battle was over then. Búrzghâsh continued to pommel until his arms were tired and the goblin’s twitchy body was a mass of jutting bones, purple flesh, and blood. It twitched one more time as Búrzghâsh climbed off then lay still. Búrzghâsh chuckled as he caught his breath. He handled that quite nicely he thought.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Arien
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@Aduchil: excellent post. Ingenuity and humour. Shame you didn’t bring your emergency kitten, as Karaghan would’ve been delighted to confiscate and eat it. You are through to Level Two.

@Frosty the Snowman great descriptions and bloodthirstiness. You too are through to Level Two. Try to make spaces between your paragraphs if you can though!

Level 2 Dungeons

You find a RUSTY DAGGER as your weapon and you still have your ROPE. Unless you are Aduchil, in which case you only have the dagger. You may RP going back for the rope, but will have to deal with the goblin in some other way.

Your enemy this round is a half-grown but feisty Warg. Defeat her to reach level 3.


@Thalionwen, welcome to the Tower! You will be referred to as Thalionwen the Mighty by everyone you can force to do so, thus proving your might.

@Dimcairien Luiniel the challenge is still also the same for you.

The level one challenge is exactly the same: I’ll reproduce it for you here for your convenience. This one time.

To challenge the Tower of Might, lay down all your weapons and armour (although I do advise keeping at least some clothes on). Your challenge awaits you in a series of caves just below. Go down the stairs into the first chamber, warrior, and meet your challenge. You may use only whatever you find, and your wits.”


LEVEL ONE

You find a ROPE as your weapon.

An average sized goblin crawls out to face you as your opponent. He isn’t armed and doesn’t seem so tough - but you never know with goblins. Defeat him however you can to reach Level 2.
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The Tower, Level One, Rope

The ancient Uruk-hai gestured to Thalionwen to head in the direction of what looked like a string of caves. Well, good! Thali liked caves--you could ripen cheese in them, and she had a keen interest in cheeses.

Slipping into the chamber, she found it empty except for a length of rope, of questionable origin and cleanliness. Picking it up at once, Thali cast about herself.

"Um, beast???" she called out after a moment. "I'm here, and I think you're supposed to be coming out to fight me."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a goblin of unimpressive size and uncertain intelligence crawled out of a fissure in the wall. Thali blinked. He didn't look like much, and Mordor being what it was, might turn out to be a second cousin of her husband's. That would certainly lead to awkwardness with the extended family, and Eru knew there was enough awkwardness there already. Perhaps trickery would be the best defense in such a situation.

"Sorry, was sleeping," the goblin muttered, still looking only half-awake.

Yes. Trickery it was.

Letting her eyes go wide, Thali flung the rope at the goblin, shrieking "AAAAAAAHBEMA'SHORNASNAKE, ITHOUGHTITWASAROPEBUTIT'SADEADLYREPTILE!!!!!!!!"

The goblin, taken entirely by surprise, let out a similar shriek--not unlike the sound of a kettle coming to a full boil--and flailed helplessly at the venomous rope. As it did, Thali dashed past it, snatching the rope from the ground as she went. Sometimes, a moment or two of distraction was all a problem required. And if there was one thing Thalionwen of the Eastmark did well, it was cause distractions.
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Shigzud
Gatehouse - The Tower of Might


Shigzud was not the smartest of orcs. Nor was he the bravest. Nor was he the strongest. He had done a good job his entire life of being quite average. Years of life just carrying on with nothing happening had been quite fine. But there came a time in every orc's life when it was time to find his place in the world. It was time to prove himself. He'd heard stories of the great Towers of No Return, tests of knowledge and bravery. This was what he needed, a chance to show them all that he could be smart AND brave. Of course the Tower of Knowledge was closed, so Might it was.

Shigzud clanked his way to the gatehouse. He had managed to scrape together a battered helmet, a cuirass that had several holes in, and a blood soaked, rusty sword. He was as prepared as he would ever be, though it hadn't quite occurred to him yet that his armour and weapons would probably be as useful as a chocolate teapot. He noticed the Uruk-hai at the gatehouse and tried to show his confidence by swaggering his way up to her.

"I am Shigzud!" he began, putting hands on his hips. "I am here to face the trials of the Tower of Might!" He emphasised his statement by pointing up towards where he expected the tower to be. He looked around, seeing no tower, only what looked to be a large doorway and a single story building. "Where is it?"

The Uruk-hai looked him up and down, rolled her eyes, and pointed down.

"Oh...it goes down. Very well, I here to face the Tower of Might!" This time, he pointed down at his feet.
Last edited by Aethelu on Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Gorfank
The Tower, Level One, Rope


Gorfank headed down the stairs into the first chamber where he immediately came upon a coil of rope. Picking it up, he looked around, awaiting the challenge. A smaller than average goblin crawled out of the shadows. He was unarmed, at least with weapons, but Gorfank knew that fingernails and teeth certainly counted as weapons among the more lower-class goblins. Taking a step back into the shadows to hopefully avoid being spotted by the goblin, he began to uncoil and rope and tie it into a lasso. Spinning the loop above his head, he ran out of the shadows and flung the lasso at the goblin, quickly ensnaring it around the waist. Pulling it in tight, he dragged the goblin towards him and used his fists to clobber the goblin senseless. The goblin know knocked out cold, Gorfank untied the rope and headed down the stairs to the second level.

OOC:
@Sil (Sorry, didn't realise this thread was updated so quickly.)
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Arien
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@Thalionwen
Ahahaha. Ok, you’re cleared for Level 2.

@Dimcairien Luiniel - No worries! You can do the levels at your own pace, I’m just tagging so you know where you’re at - though I’ve started updating top post as well to make it easier. Interesting premise that goblins operate a class system. You too can proceed to level 2.

Level 2 Dungeons

You find a RUSTY DAGGER as your weapon and you still have your ROPE.

Your enemy this round is a half-grown but feisty Warg. Defeat her to reach level 3.


@Aethelu
To challenge the Tower of Might, lay down all your weapons and armour (although I do advise keeping at least some clothes on). Your challenge awaits you in a series of caves just below. Go down the stairs into the first chamber, warrior, and meet your challenge. You may use only whatever you find, and your wits.”


LEVEL ONE

You find a ROPE as your weapon.

An average sized goblin crawls out to face you as your opponent. He isn’t armed and doesn’t seem so tough - but you never know with goblins. Defeat him however you can to reach Level 2.


EVERYONE: Do you prefer me reposting the details of each level, or would you rather I direct you to a previous post where I’ve given the details of the level? Do feel free to post your RP for your level where the details are up even if I haven’t responded to you in thread yet.
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Level two, rusty dagger

Aduchil did his usual confident striding, going deeper into the dungeons when his boot struck against something. "Hullo, what's this?" He bent down to find a rusty dagger. Not the mightiest of weapons, but a sharp edge is sharp edge, as his father used to say when shaving his head during his punk mid-life crisis. Aduchil scraped the rust away as best he could and stuck the knife into his belt, skipping onwards.

A growl reached his ears. Ahead, a warg came into sight. Not fully grown, but plenty angry. "Pupper! Wait, no," Aduchil admonished himself. Do not make the same mistake as with the goblin. Just because something is small and cute, it is not your friend. Baring teeth, the warg looked ready to fight. Aduchil drew his rusty dagger, prepared for combat. He raised the blade, clenching his jaw... and lowered the dagger again. Having recently gone vegan due to protests against animal cruelty in the Dorwinion agricultural industry, it was against Aduchil's principles to hurt an animal if it could be avoided. Especially as any wound made with this rusty knife was bound to turn septic. Aduchil could not kill this poor creature nor condemn it to a slow death by infection. Something else had to be done.

Inspired by the tales of the famous knight among Men, Sir Mac G. Yver, Aduchil put his great cunning to use. He had only the few tools on his body at his disposal along with what else might be procured in a damp cave. With a nose that would make any Hobbit proud, Aduchil sniffed out a bunch of mushrooms, growing in the dark. He selected the best, almost entirely sure they were not poisonous, but only had the effects he needed. Raw mushrooms would not do the trick alone to tempt a warg, however. He located roots of trees, sawing through them with the dagger. Having procured wood, he built a small fire. Next, he struck the dagger against his belt buckle. Sparks flew as metal met metal, until he could catch one and start a fire.

Then, another branch was whittled thin, allowing him to impale every mushroom. He sat down, roasting them over the fire. The smoke blew into his face, so he relocated to the opposite side. The smoke blew into his face here as well. He relocated again.

Twenty relocations later and after a lot of smoke inhaled, Aduchil judged the mushrooms ready. He reached into the back of his boot for his emergency spice pack. Salt, thyme, rosemary, and oregano. Humming an unrelated song about going to a faire to have a shirt sewn, Aduchil seasoned the mushrooms and turned back to face the warg. "Now you face the might of Elven cuisine!" he declared and popped off one mushroom from his skewer. He threw it at the warg, which quickly caught it in its jaws. And another. And another.

Soon after, the warg was staring deep into outer space while wondering what it all, like, means, man. Aduchil looked at the last mushroom on his skewer. He was tempted to take a trip himself, but he was already tripping - well, on a physical trip, that was. Perhaps best to save this last one, especially as his emergency spices were all spent on it. He used the empty pack to wrap the mushroom and placed it inside his boot. With a final look at the warg, currently lying flat on its back while drooling out of its mouth, the Elf sauntered deeper into the cave complex.

Arien
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@Aduchil For some reason, I’m going to allow you to progress to level 3 for sheer ingenuity. Shame on Karaghan for not stripping you at the door properly. Campaign to reclassify Emergency Spice Racks as a weapon will be starting shortly.

Level 3 Dungeons

You find a NET which you may swap out for your dagger or rope. In your case, since you don’t have the rope, you may add it to your dagger. I wouldn’t use your dagger too many times though: as it is rusty, it might snap...

This time you’re facing the Wargling’s parents - and they’re pretty angry with you for beating up on their cub. In fact you might say they’re rabidly angry...
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 2


Búrzghâsh’s hands hurt as he exited the chamber but he felt good. He had never felt so alive! He cackled and noticed a rusty looking dagger as he threw his head back. This could be useful. It was rusty as all Angband but he could manage. He’d never had a knife of his own before. This was exciting!

The undersized orc was so busy beholding his new treasure that he nearly missed the half-sized warg that burst out of the shadows. He barely had time for a yelp of surprise before she began charging him. The chamber was not a large one, she would be on him in a matter of seconds. Beyond all reason, little Búrzghâsh decided to charge to warg, preparing to meet the massive lupine creature in a clash of boldness and glory… until she leapt at him. In that final second, he ducked, and slid feet first underneath her. Her jaws snapped angrily, but missed him entirely. She began to land but, again at the last possible moment, he slashed wildly with the rusty dagger. The slash found meat, slicing through the muscle and tendons of the young warg. She yelped piteously but managed to pivot on her front paws to launch another attack. The orc was ready for this one though, he held his ground as the warg struggled to gain momentum. She bit wildly, her black jaws snapping just inches from his head, a thick coat of saliva splattered onto his face.

Holding his breakfast in, Búrzghâsh wrapped the rope he had brought with him around the warg’s exposed neck, looping it over and around her head before she had a chance to unhinge her jaw for another bite. With the rope taunt, he fell like a stone, he could feel the twine biting into his fingers as he pulled all of his weight to the ground. The warg would not give up though, it thrashed and whimpers and bit but he held on. He screamed as he did so, howling in a manner to unintentionally match the warg he was strangling. She nearly threw him off several times, but Búrzghâsh held onto the rope for dear life. The struggles became weaker though, and the snapping jaws held less menace. The orc released the rope and before his opponent had enough time to recover, thrust the rusty dagger down with all his might into the mangy fur of the creature, stabbing just below jawline. Blood sprayed everywhere, he got a good mouthful before have the presence of mind to stop screaming. He stabbed again, and again and a final time. Making sure the creature was dead.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Level 3, rusty dagger, net

Aduchil almost tripped as he progressed. What was this, some form of speed bump for joggers? No, simply a net carelessly tossed to the ground, entangling his feet. The Elf extricated himself and picked up the net, checking it. In decent enough condition that it was worth bringing along. He continued onwards until he saw the parents of the tripping pupper back there. They sneered, not looking too happy with him. "So, your child is fine," Aduchil hurried to assure them. "The effects should wear off in... well... not any time soon, but certainly eventually! Can we not resolve this amicably?"

The wargs howled and ran after him. So much for diplomacy. It was time for another, ingenious plan. While running for his life, Aduchil gathered what he required. It was a shame he had not been able to bring his emergency pincers for this, but he would have to make do. Once more, he grabbed hold of a tree root, snapping a small bit off. Still sprinting around the cave with two fully grown wargs chasing him, he used his rusty dagger to carve the roots into a thorn. He proceeded to do this to a handful more, creating a small handful of caltrops. Praising his Elven stamina, though silently as he was all out of breath, Aduchil moved to the second phase of his plan.

Running around the stalagmites of the cavern, using them to keep the wargs at bay, he reached for his trusty net, recently pressed into service. With Elven dexterity, he threw it to land one hole over a stalagmite. Jogging in circles, he did the same with the other end of the net to another stalagmite, and finally threw his improvised caltrops on the ground. The trap was set.

With his last strength, Aduchil lured the wargs in a circle around the cave and back towards his net. He deftly jumped over it, and his boots easily withstood any of his strewn thorns on the ground. The wargs, on the other hand, tumbled into his speed bump, entangling themselves in the net. Even worse, as they stumbled forwards, their paws hit the thorns, and they gave a terrible howl of misery. Gone were all thoughts of killing the intruder; the poor beasts could only think of the pain in their sensitive paws, leaving them unable to move.

Cautiously, Aduchil approached and took hold of their paws. Having no useful tools at his disposal, he had to use his fingers to dig out the thorns, but eventually he succeeded. Next, he unwrapped the net from them, setting them free. Liberating the two beasts from their pain and predicament, thereby turning their base psychology against them, the wargs turned friendly. Suppressing his instinct to pet the beasts, not wanting to push his luck. Aduchil continued on.

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Shigzud
The Tower, Level One, Rope

Shigzud listened to the Uruk-hai and started to feel a bit sick. No weapons and armour? No one had told him that! Admittedly, this now made sense why there was some snickering when he'd gone looking for armour and weapons after announcing he would challenge the Tower of Might. With a deep sigh, he pulled off the armour and threw down his sword too. Now it was time to rely on his wits and strength to get him through. He could only hope that they were actually up to the task before him as he took a step through the door.

The first level was dark and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He reached out to one side and his hand touched something, in a very un-orc like moment he nearly screamed. He thought it was a snake. Thankfully it turned out to be a rope, coiled up on a little hook on the wall. It was a decent length he noted as he pulled it off, there had to be something he could used that for. He took a few more steps in, he noticed the shadow.

The shadow began to move. The shadow was a goblin. Shigzud stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't been much of a fighter before, after all he was a very average orc, but now was the time for action. He felt the rope in his hands, maybe he could tie him up to get past him or strangle him with it. Now was the time. Shigzud charged at the goblin with what he thought was an impressive war cry, but it was of a high pitched wail. As he was about to reach the goblin, Shigzud tripped. He slammed his body into the goblin, sending the pair tumbling down. There was a sickening crunch as they hit the floor, though he was glad to realise it wasn't him making the sound. Lying on top of the goblin, there was nothing but the sound of his own breath. The goblin wasn't moving. Pushing himself up, Shigzud looked down to see the goblin staring back at him. There was...something leaking from his head. Even if he wasn't dead it didn't look like he was getting back up anytime soon. Standing up Shigzud couldn't resist giving the goblin a swift kick. "Take that!"

Now it was time to head onto the next level, and he even got to keep the rope.
Last edited by Aethelu on Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Gatehouse, Tower of Might

Durien approached the gatehouse with the silent steady stride that never betrayed what she felt or what she thought. The slightest breeze stirred, catching the long ends of her ebony hair, despite the elven braids holding it away from her face. It mattered not in these dark lands that she was an elf, although her greatest strength was her ability to pass herself off as a denizen of any race in Middle Earth, although that one time she had masqueraded as a dwarf had been quite a feat and test of endurance. It hadn't been easy. She had come from far away to face this particular challenge, and she was confident in her ability to meet it. As she approached Karaghan, she raised her empty hands to show her she was weaponless. She had already left her weapons in the safekeeping of another, being loathe to trust any minion. "As you see, I come unarmed." She stated while still a few strides out.

Karaghan grunted, and didn't take her word for it, but proceeded to check that the elleth wasn't breaking any rules by trying to sneak one in. The Uruk-hai was quite thorough, Durien decided dryly, although she didn't comment but instead waited for the gatekeeper to speak. There was no reason to piss of a Uruk-hai who would be happy to have elf fodder for her dungeon. Finally satisfied, she stepped back. "Name and purpose?"

"I am called Durien, and I am here to test my fate in the Tower of Might." She stated clearly and succinctly. It was her last chance to back out, not that she was interested in backing out. She was too intrigued by the challenge which lay ahead of her. The gatekeeper scribbled her name down onto something, then grunted again.

"Go inside the gatehouse and wait your turn, she-elf." Karaghan sneered, waving a black hand toward the dark interior that signaled the start of her challenge. Durien proceeded steadily but cautiously, after all, who knew what lay in dark? She nearly whacked her knee on the bench before just inside as her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of daylight, the green in her eyes deepening if any had been around to see it. Patient, Durien seated herself on the hard bench and waited for her first instructions.

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Gorfank
The Tower, Level Two, Rope, Rusty Dagger

The goblin now unconscious, Gorfank continued down to the next level of the dungeon. There he stumbled upon a rusty dagger just sitting there on the ground. "Now who would have left you behind," he muttered, carefully running a finger along the rusty blade. "Still sharp, a valuable weapon for such an adventurer as myself." Tucking it into his belt, "Finders keepers," he snarled.

Suddenly, a young Wargling appeared out of the shadows. It snarled right back at Gorfank. "Well, aren't you a sweet pup!" he cried, having been taught to never insult a Warg. They made valuable companions and were not a creature to tangle with. However, the Wargling was obviously quite young and apparently unaccustomed to seeing orc comrades. " He began to speak to the young Wargling in orcish as the harsh language should be familiar to the orc. "I am not your enemy," he stated. "You Warg, me Orc. We work together to defeat the light." He eyed the Wargling warily, wondering if it had caught on. The young beast cocked it's head and lunged. Gorfank didn't move. Suddenly the Wargling began to eagerly lick Gorfank's face. "Hey!" he cried, "I'm not maggoty bread! I am an Orc!" But that didn't seem to stop the animal as it kept licking Gorfank everywhere. "Let's see if we can find your parents," he muttered at last. Warg's might be useful companions for an Orc, but younglings were trouble as they were not yet battle-hardy. He grabbed the Wargling by the scruff of the neck and said, "Come, your parents can be far off. They will teach you the ways of battle." He wiped the Warb slobber off of his cheek as he and the Wargling headed down to the third level.
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Thalionwen
Tower of Might, Level Two

Having successfully dodged the goblin, Thalionwen headed for the next cave, peering hesitantly inside.

"Hm," she said thoughtfully to herself. Inside, there was a very active, half-grown Warg. It looked hungry, and full of puppy energy. Within reach of the door was a single rusty dagger.

As the Warg pup bounded about the room, slavering and whining as it waited for a visitor, Thali reached in and snatched the dagger, leaving the rope in its place before slamming the door shut. Then she retraced her steps, heading back to the cave in which the goblin still waited, his hand still over his heart after the shock of having an alleged snake tossed in his face.

"What kind of a dirty trick was that?" the goblin growled.

"Well, I was supposed to kill you," Thali pointed out. "And I didn't. So a thank you would be nice."

The goblin gave her a sour look and said nothing.

"Do you know someone called Orco del Oro?" Thalionwen asked curiously, stepping closer.

"No," the goblin said, still sulking. "Haven't heard of him."

"Alright, good," Thali said, and stepping forward yet again, she stabbed the goblin in the armpit with her rusty dagger.

"What in the Dark Lord's Mountain did you do that for?" the goblin yelped. "You said I should thank you for not killing me. And now you're poking me in the underarm with an old knife?"

"Sorry," Thali apologized, as the goblin began fountaining copious amounts of blood. "I changed my mind. And it's just...this isn't the sharpest blade. I'd have preferred to just sever your spinal cord by stabbing you at the base of the skull, or to cut your throat. But the artery in your armpit's easiest to reach with a dull knife. And you had your arms crossed so getting through the ribs for the heart or lungs or another organ would have been tricky. Amazing the things you learn as a healer, isn't it?"

But by now, there was an impressive pool of black blood on the floor and the goblin had collapsed, fully dead.

Pocketing the knife and dragging the orc's body through the corridor, Thalionwen opened the door to the second corridor.

"Come on, puppy!" she called. "Fresh meat!"

The Wargling, hungry and bored to distraction, came bounding through the door and began savaging the unfortunate goblin's body at once.

"Well, you don't have arms to fold," Thali muttered to herself before throwing herself atop the distracted creature and forcefully shoving her rusted dagger through its ribs a number of times. Heart, lungs and liver, all to be sure.

Regretfully, Thalionwen looked down at her kirtle, now soaked with orc and warg blood. "And I just had this made. How am I going to explain this to Taethowen when I get back to Rohan? She's always asking SO MANY QUESTIONS."

But, not one to let a minor inconvenience get her down, Thali set to work. First, she cut the face off the dead goblin and folded it up, putting it in her already-bloody pocket. You never knew when you might need a disguise, and Thalionwen certainly had no squeamishness about body parts, thanks to her work in the Slaughter House.

With that done, she positioned the dead Wargling in full view of the entrance to the third cavern and draped the orc on top of it, face down, as if they'd died locked in mortal combat. Then, driving her rusted knife into a crack in the wall at the far side of the third cavern's entrance, she tied one end of the rope tightly to its hilt. Snaking the rope along the cavern floor before the third entrance, Thalionwen took up a position on the opposite side of the doorway from the knife, tugging briefly on her tripwire to ensure it was solid before placing a hand on the third cavern's door. This would probably be the end of that very useful dagger--enough weight on the rope, and it would snap, but all Thali needed was to get whatever came through that door off its feet. Then she'd be safe on the other side, albeit without the knife and rope.

Thali sighed. The knife and the rope would be a loss, but on the bright side, at least she'd procured a perfectly serviceable goblin face.
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Arien
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@Durien: to challenge the Tower of Might, lay down all your weapons and armour (although I do advise keeping at least some clothes on). Your challenge awaits you in a series of caves just below. Go down the stairs into the first chamber, warrior, and meet your challenge. You may use only whatever you find, and your wits.”

LEVEL ONE

You find a ROPE as your weapon.

An average sized goblin crawls out to face you as your opponent. He isn’t armed and doesn’t seem so tough - but you never know with goblins. Defeat him however you can to reach Level 2.


@Dimcairien Luiniel - alas, the level requires you defeat the wargling not befriend it. It starts to bite you and get rough with you: subdue it properly to move on.

@Aethelu - a fine kill! Through to level 2.

Level 2 Dungeons

You find a RUSTY DAGGER as your weapon and you still have your ROPE.

Your enemy this round is a half-grown but feisty Warg. Defeat her to reach level 3.


@Thalionwen - incredible work. Well done. You are through to level 3 also.

@Frosty the Snowman: also excellent bloodthirdtiness. Go to level 3.

Level 3 Dungeons

You find a NET which you may swap out for your dagger or rope.

This time you’re facing the Wargling’s parents - and they’re pretty angry with you for beating up on their cub. In fact you might say they’re rabidly angry...


@Aduchil: you’re pushing your luck with the Wargs - they haven’t forgotten the insult to their cub, but you are through to level 4. Alas! You have put your rusty dagger to too much use and it has snapped.

Level 4
You find a STAKE which you may swap out for one of your other pieces of equipment.

Your opponent this round is a Spider - spawn of Shelob or imported from Mirkwood, who can say? Evade her webs which are sneakily strung around the darkened cave, and her venomous bite, to progress to level 5.
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Thalionwen
Level 3 Dungeons, Net


Having already painstakingly prepared herself for the third cavern, Thalionwen futilely attempted to wipe blood off her hands and onto her skirts, but there was just too much of it all around. Sighing in annoyance, she took up the loose end of her rope and swung the door to the third cavern open.

At once a hideous growling and howling arose. Claws skittered on the stone floor and Thalionwen waited for the last possible moment before yanking on the trip line she's created with all her might. A pair of furious Wargs fell headlong into the second cavern, at which point Thali dashed past them and shut herself, safe and sound, in the now empty third cave.

The knife had indeed shattered, as she suspected, and the frayed rope had snapped, but they'd served their purpose. And look! Here on the floor in the middle of this new cavern was a sizable net.

"Well, that could come in handy!" Thalionwen said to herself. She folded up the net and tucked it under her arm, proceeding to the fourth carvern as the furious snapping and howling of the Wargs followed her, still emanating from the second carvern as they lamented the gory fate of their dead child.
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@Thalionwen: gross, well done

Level 4
You find a STAKE which you may swap out for one of your other pieces of equipment.

Your opponent this round is a Spider - spawn of Shelob or imported from Mirkwood, who can say? Evade her webs which are sneakily strung around the darkened cave, and her venomous bite, to progress to level 5.
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 3


Búrzghâsh did not have time to savor his victory over the little wargling. He was panting and out of breath, but he knew he had to go further in, How much deeper did this pit go? He had heard rumors about something dug into the earth a deep as the Dark Tower was high. Was this it? What did the bottom levels hold? He shivered. He entered the next chamber and nearly tripped over a net that had been strewn across the entrance. He picked it up, dropping the piece of rope without even realizing it. It was not a very impressive net, he doubted it would do very well if he were to fish with it but –

A low growl somewhere in the darkness stopped speculations going forward. Another growl, softer than the first joined in. Two. There were two somethings in here. Búrzghâsh tightened his reverse grip on the rusted dagger and squeezed the net. It felt squishy. The sounds grew closer. They sounded wild and crazed. Rabid Búrzghâsh realized in that moment. That could play to his advantage. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He moved closer to the doorway then began tiptoeing around the edges. He tapped the dagger against the wall. The tinny sound echoed all over the chamber. The wargs, now in about the center of the room based on the sounds of their growling, ceased moving. The little orc could hear them sniffing through their large, hyena like nosed. He closed his eyes and tossed the dagger a few feet from him, making sure to clang it against the wall one more time.

One of the wargs broke and charged the sound. They were a little off, he could tell, the echos confusing the maddened beast. He charged forward, dashing within a few feet of the massive wolf creature before throwing the net with a flick of his wrists (something he had learned watching the pubmistress all these years). It landed on the beast, sending it into a frenzy. It thrashed, yipped, and snapped at the net, trying to get out from under it. Sufficiently convinced of the distraction, Búrzghâsh nodded to himself and ran to the other warg, screaming his new wordless shriek of a warcry. A mighty leap, at least to the undersized orc, and he was on the back of the other beast. It bucked immediately, nearly throwing him off. He grabbed the mangy fur and held on. The warg leapt into the air and bucked again, trying throw off the mysterious intruder. As it landed, the orc seized his chance and grabbed the sides of the warg’s head, his fingers finding the soft jelly of the warg’s eyes. He squeezed. His dirty, jagged fingernails digging into soft bits of the warg. It yelped and howled, snapping wildly about. He held on though, finding some hideous strength in his limbs as he felt his fingers penetrate the eyeball. They popped like grapes and he howled victoriously. He lifted one had from the beast and was immediately knocked prone. The warg though, was howling and yelping in pain, unable to stand as ichor flowed out of the ruin of its eyes.

Búrzghâsh popped his finger into his mouth, tasting this victory and smiled. He felt around for the dagger, finding it after a heartbeat of fumbling in the dark. His grin was wicked and toothy. He gripped the rusty hilt until he felt a knuckle joint pop. He darted to the other warg, the one still trapped beneath the net, and brought the dagger home. The blow glanced off the warg’s snout, cutting a deep bloody gash that sprayed the orc in the face. He lapped the blood up and stabbed down again. The warg twisted away, and his struck went wide. His breath became ragged as he stabbed again, leaning down to stab upward. The blow landed into the unprotected breast of the creature. He tried to pull the dagger out but the warg ripped it away and began rolling agonizingly as blood leaked. He turned to the remaining warg who was still trashing about and yelping from the loss of its eyes. He kicked the warg hard in the chest and it shuddered, remaining still enough for him to yank the dagger out. Reversing the grip, Búrzghâsh rushed the last warg, aiming a strike into the ruined eye socket of the beast. The strike was well aimed, the dagger was nearly buried to the hilt, piercing the brain of the poor creature.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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@Frosty the Snowman

A savagely thrilling read. You are through to Level 4 also. See Thali’s update above for Level 4 details.
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Level One, Rope

Already bare of any weapons, and her emerald green eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the set of stairs, Durien silently rose from the bench. Not knowing what awaited her in the darkness, the elleth crept down them slowly, each footfall making nary a sound, with her back against the wall. Her lithe wraith-like form and dark gray and black raiment might have given one the illusion that she was little more than a shadow slipping through a nightmare. Upon reaching the first landing, the corridor in front of her opened a bit into what appeared to be a dungeon of some sort. Even with her elvish eyes adjusting to the dim light, it wasn't easy to see through the darkness. Not too far in front of her lay a rope on the ground. A rope was an extremely helpful sort of object, the kind one always wished for and needed when one happened to forget to bring a bit along. Cautious and wary of a trap, she scanned the area as best as she could even as she stealthily made her way towards it. Upon she reaching it, she knelt beside it, her slender fingers running the length of it, checking it for any reason why it might have been abandoned. She was delighted to find that it was of elven make, which is probably why it had been left behind. Some of Sauron's dark creatures, and a few other semi-foul ones abroad, claimed the rope burned when it touched their skin. Not literally, from what she had heard, but the sensation of burning would have been enough for such a fine rope to have been cast aside in such a dungeon as this.

Still kneeling, the rope in her left hand, a scraping sound caught Durien's attention. Her body rigid and frozen at attention, she strained her eyes and ears toward the sound. A small knot of tension uncoiled in the pit of her stomach when she realized it was only a an average sized goblin whose attention she had managed to catch. He was still as large as she was and it would still require her concentration and focus to defeat him, but there were many creatures far worse who could have come crawling out of the shadows. Quickly looping the rope with deft movements, she formed a basic snare, little more than a loop which could be yanked tight, and dropped it to the ground before the goblin got close enough to see clearly what she was doing. He sensed her presence more than saw her in the dim gloomy light. Tracking his progress with her keen hearing, she slowly stepped backwards, the trailing end of the rope in the hand she kept hidden behind her back.

It was vital Durien kept the goblin's attention on her, and unobservant of his surroundings, in order for her quickly hatched plan to work. Thinking quickly, she figured the best way to do that was to taunt the goblin. After all, they hated being belittled. She grinned in the darkness, just in case he could see her. "Oh, it's only a little goblin after all. And here I thought I had stumbled upon some important creature." The pace of the goblin's steps increased and a half muttered growl that might have been words emitted from the gnashing teeth. His figure was now fully outlined in the shadows, but he was on track to miss her snare. The elleth stepped noisily to the right, drawing the creature's attention. "You're hardly worth killing, now aren't..." Her voice trailed off as he rushed at her and speed became more important than what she had been saying. Whipping her arm out and around, she snapped her trap shut upon his lower leg. Tucking into a roll, she dodged his raking nails stretching for her as she rolled beneath his outstretched arms. She had managed to fool him with her bravado; so far so good.

The goblin wailed, whether because he had missed or because of the elven rope now creating a burning sensation on his leg, Durien was not certain, but she didn't pause to find out. Rising out of the roll and finding her feet, she whipped around and slammed the heel of her hand directly into the back of the goblin. She had been aiming for soft section of nerves between the shoulder and the spine, but goblins were already deformed and it was fairly difficult to find the spot as it varied from goblin to goblin. A successful hit left the opponent momentarily stunned, as the nerves could no longer pass the message between brain and body. Unfortunately, while she hit his back hard and he lurched forward, the goblin off balance already as he tried to free his leg of the rope, she had missed the nerves. Hoping she was faster than his claws, she simultaneously reached one hand around the goblin's shoulders, and the other around to clasp his chin and wrenched upwards and sideways hard. The loud crack told her she was successful even if the now limp body pulling her downwards hadn't been enough of a sign of her success. Letting the dead goblin fall to the floor, she uncoiled the elven rope from around the greenish ankle with a shake, then coiled it and looped it around her slender figure. After all, who knew when she might need it next.

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Ellisiva Ylva, Level 0/Entrance

Close to Carach Angren, Eliisiva had heard tell of the fabled Towers of No Return. There was, apparently, a training ground where warriors and the wise went to prove themselves. Ellisiva didn't consider herself particular wise or warrior-y but she had decided to explore just the same. At least if this ended in a bloody mess, someone might write a song about her, or a haiku or something.

Using the bravado bred into her by being from a family of boys and pirates, she strode up to the shady and intimidating keeps to find the current keeper, an old female Uruk-hai named Karaghan. Ellisiva pushed back her hood, brushing her long blonde hair out of the way in a practised movement, and flicked a finger at her name on the lists. The Uruk-hai grunted at her, crossed off the name with a scratch of dark red ink and led the way towards the keeps.

It transpired that the only tower which was actually a tower was the Tower of Knowledge. Large chains were strung haphazardly across the large doors and no fires flickered in the high windows. It was clearly locked and sealed. Instead, with a wink and gentle shove to the shoulder, Karaghan directed Ellisiva to the dark steps leading downwards into the dungeons known as the Tower of Might. Ellisiva pursed her lips and said, "So I go down there and prove my worth, hm?
Family Stealtharm | Sil's #1 Property | Knowledge of a woman, pride of a dwarf | Khazâd ai-mênu!

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Arien
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@Queen Nerwen to challenge the Tower of Might, lay down all your weapons and armour (although I do advise keeping at least some clothes on). Your challenge awaits you in a series of caves just below. Go down the stairs into the first chamber, warrior, and meet your challenge. You may use only whatever you find, and your wits.”

LEVEL ONE

You find a ROPE as your weapon.

An average sized goblin crawls out to face you as your opponent. He isn’t armed and doesn’t seem so tough - but you never know with goblins. Defeat him however you can to reach Level 2.


@Durien - Well done! A thrilling battle. Through to level 2.

Level 2 Dungeons

You find a RUSTY DAGGER as your weapon and you still have your ROPE.

Your enemy this round is a half-grown but feisty Warg. Defeat her to reach level 3.
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 4


Búrzghâsh dropped the net as soon as his eyes set on the stake. He tested the end, pushing into his palm. He yelped a bit as the point pierced his skin. A thin line of black blood smeared his hand, he rubbed the blood over his face, mixing it with the goblin and warg blood already smeared all over him. His chest heaved with exhilaration and exhaustion. What was next? He snuck into the next chamber and stepped immediately into a massive patch of sticky white thread. He tried to yank his foot away but the silky substance clung to him. Oh no! He had never seen one of these things but he had heard enough stories to know exactly what was in the next room. It was a spider. Not the little bugs that were as tasty as they were a menace, but things the size of full grown wargs, larger even. There were stories about one somewhere up in the mountains that was larger than three horses. His yanked his foot away from the webbing and gulped his throat was suddenly as dry as a bone.

He looked at his weapons, a wooden stake, sharp and savage, and a rusty dagger, hard and dangerous. He could do this. His eyes had begun to adjust to the utter darkness of the dungeons. He peered, squinting, into the chamber ahead of him. Webbing was all over it. Strewn haphazardly from the ceiling and hanging limply to the floor. The webbing nearly glowed with a sort of sickly white corpse color. A breeze from somewhere, shifting the webbing, making it drift ever so casually across the floor, the fingers of a skeleton scrapping the floor. He squinted hard, holding his breath as he did so. He could see something moving!

It was faint at first, it looked more like a shadow than anything, but the more he stared, the more he recognized the shape of a multi jointed limb. He followed the line of the leg until it joined some darker mass, a bulbous, polyp-y thing of some vague round shape near the back of the chamber. There it was! Búrzghâsh looked from the spider to the floor, gauging the distance and the spacing between the knots of web. If he was careful, if he was a delicate as an Elven dancer, he could skip and run through the web and pounce.

He took a deep breath…

… and ran. He dodged a pile of webbing at his feet and nimbly sidestepped another wisp of sticky stuff that nearly snagged his arm He tip toed through a patchwork on the floor until he was with in five feet and then he leapt, howling that familiar wordless battle cry.

The spider didn’t have a chance to move. It most have been thrown off guard but the nimble, sheer luck movements of the orc. She had expected him to get caught and to attack later. She had not expected him to be able to so deftly avoid all of her traps.

The combined weight of Búrzghâsh and the sharpness of his weapons landing on the spider’s giant abdomen caused it to burst in a shocking, squelching, popping sound that echoed through the chamber. He stood up, and vomited as he realized what he was now covered in. Greenish ooze and half hard organs stuck to him. He shook himself off and howled triumphantly. He stabbed the spider’s corpse again, cutting away into the guts of dead creature, ripping apart lungs and stomach that squished slid sickly into the grey dust. Finally he found was he was looking for. He had no idea what he was doing or why, but he held the heart of the dead spider aloft and howled a third time. He took a bite of the heart, gagged, and immediately spit it out.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Arien
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@Frosty the Snowman that was supremely gross so obviously you cleared the level no problem and are now reaching

Level 5

You find a SHIELD which you may swap for one of your pieces of equipment.

Your opponent is an Uruk-hai. He is armed with a cleaver, but has no armour. Defeat him to progress.
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 5


Still covered in spider and warg guts, the orc moved into the next chamber. A plain round shield lay against the wall, wobbling slightly. Búrzghâsh picked it up, hefting in place and testing the weight. Perhaps if he knew anything about shields and their aerodynamics he might have found the shield a little less than desirable. It wasn’t quite balanced evenly and the front of the shield, right above where his elbow would be placed, was thin and worn. However, it was better than having nothing. He pistoned his elbow back and forth, stabbing with the stake up under the shield in a maneuver he’d seen his brother do a hundred times. He left the dagger on the floor. It had served its purpose and was now so covered in spider guts it would likely be of little use.

He had not gone two paces into the room when an uruk, slate grey skin and wrapped in a dirty loincloth, charged out of the shadows. He hid behind the shield as the first attack came, a harsh CLANG off the shield followed by another and another.

He took a step back, set his feet, then rushed forward, slamming the shield into the uruk’s midsection over and over, he pushed the much larger creature back, aiming at pinning him in the far left corner. Búrzghâsh’s footwork had remarkably improved upon his entrance into the dungeon. His stance never waivered as he pushed his opponent back, his slipped once but a jab from the stake kept the uruk at bay. A few of the jabs hit the mark, leaving shallow, but nasty looking holes in his enemy’s flesh. He aimed a savage strike at the uruk’s foot next. Slamming the stake down with everything he had. The blow glanced off a bone though, leaving a gash, but not scoring nearly as deep as he needed.

The uruk howled in pain and a flurry of blows rained on the shield, pushing the undersized orc back several paces. He nearly tripped as they danced their way to the center of the room, and the uruk capitalized on it, slamming a shoulder hard into the shield at an angle. Búrzghâsh’s shoulder twisted and the shield nearly slipped off his arm. The cleaver, wielded with two hands, came down on him like a bolt of lightning. Only his gore covered shoes saved him. He slipped to once side, nearly doing the splits, and the blow CLANGED hard on the shield’s edge.

He yanked his shield back into place and set his feet. The uruk charged again, leading with his shoulder. At the very last second, Búrzghâsh danced aside, shifting his weight to a back foot and twirling out of reach while jamming the stake hard into the uruk’s hip. He growled and nearly toppled sideways. Búrzghâsh twisted back around to his defensive stance, then with his wordless battlecry screech, charged forward, slamming the shield into his opponent with all his might. The uruk’s arms started pinwheeling as he tried desperately to maintain balance, leaving his legs completely unprotected. The orc smiled as he saw his target. He dropped the shield, freeing his arm for balance, and leapt. He landed within an inch of the uruk, too close for the unbalanced foe to resist, and thrust the stake as deep as he could into the leg, twisting, then ripping it out. Blood suddenly covered everything. It came out of the slate-grey body in waves. He fell back, slamming hard into the stone floor and curled up like a dying spider. He desperately tried to cover the wound but it was no use, the gash was too deep and too wide. Búrzghâsh grinned to himself as he approached the uruk slowly and crouched to face him.

“I guess you didn’t earn the ‘hai’ of your species did you?” He kicked the brute’s stomach savagely and then shoved the stake into the uruk’s unprotected throat.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Arien
Arien
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Excellent again @Frosty the Snowman. You are through to Level 6!

Level 6

You may take the Uruk’s CLEAVER which you may swap for one of your pieces of equipment.

Your opponent is an Olog-hai. He is armed with a spiked mace - and needs no armour as his skin is very tough. Defeat him to progress.
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Galadhrim Bowmaster
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Level 4, net, stake

Aduchil's boot discovered another useful item as he tripped and fell. Picking up the offending object, he recognised it as a stake. "Excellent," he mumbled. He had been forced to leave his emergency van Helsing kit behind, as too many items in there could be described as weapons; the garlic tooth floss doubled as a garotte, for instance. But with this stake, he feared no vampires! Placing it in his belt, Aduchil continued with all his fears concerning fangs allayed.

Something sticky slapped him across the face. He had walked right into a spider's web. Judging by the size of the strand, a spider large enough to eat a horse. Aduchil plucked the strand a few times. If only there had been room in his pants for his emergency loom, he could have made some nice clothes out of this. He remembered his ill-fated attempt at making a spider farm in Mirkwood, hoping to get rich from selling the silk. Sadly, after all his silk-gathering employees had been eaten, Aduchil had been forced to abandon the project. Good thing he had opted for the extended warranty on those rented employees.

If this spider was anything like its crawly cousins of Mirkwood, it would know of his presence soon enough. Best to hurry on. Aduchil took his rusty dagger, attempting to cut through some of the spider web. As a result, the dagger snapped. Easy come, easy go. Aduchil threw away the broken hilt and considered his options.

He would have to defend himself. Spiders above the size of an ox were categorised as wholly evil and definitely un-farmable, making them an accepted exception to his non-violence clause. But he would need a weapon. Grabbing his stake, Aduchil used karate chops to split it. He continued chopping; his hand was known as the human axe, after all. Using his very long pinky nail that he normally needed for nose candy, he further split the wooden stake into tiny, tiny pieces. He stuck one inside his belt to act as an emergency toothpick - another item the ban on weapons would not have allowed him to bring - and kept the rest handy.

Utilising years of ballet lessons as a child, Aduchil began a dance across the web strands to leave any sugar plum fairy envious. He leapt. He tip-toed. He did a full pirouette just because he could. Deeper and deeper, he progressed into the cave.

He was almost done with Swan Lake when a dripping sound came to his ears. He turned to see droplets falling to the ground, and the rock hissing where it was struck. The venom of a giant spider, salivating at seeing such a spry meal. "Not today, my silky adversary! You face a master chef!" Aduchil grabbed his countless little tooth picks and flung the first one, striking one of the spider's many eyes. "Quite the pickle!" Another toothpick, and another eye closed. "Huzza! Slim pickings, these weapons, but a true gourmet makes do!" The spider hissed and wailed as eye after eye was extinguished by the flurry of Aduchil's assault, fuelled by his hand-eye combination. At last, the gruesome creature fled before his relentless attack. "Victory! You picked the wrong Elf!" The battle over, Aduchil grabbed a few strands of spider silk and stuffed them inside his tunic. Just in case of an emergency.

Dúnadan
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Level Two
W/Rope & Rusty Dagger


With the elven rope safely secured around her body Durien carefully exited the small chamber on the far side, where yet another set of dark dimly stairs led downwards. She followed where they led, albeit cautiously, uncertain of what lay in store for her at the bottom. Finding the floor of the second dungeon with a small booted foot, she paused, waiting in silence for her to eyes to work out the shape of the room in the darkness. When her emerald eyes finally fell upon the form of a wolf lying the midst of the room, chewing on something. No, not a wolf, she realized as she hesitatingly stepped forward to see better. Although currently the size of a normal wolf, she could see by the occasional flash of white teeth that the creature was barely more than a pup. It was a warg, one of the great wolves of the north, also known as direwolves in the legends of the people of the very far north, of the lands covered in the great ice. Although they maintained their own free wills, they tended to side almost exclusively with orcs and goblins, even permitting them to ride them. Malevolent in nature and in possession of some wits, they often plotted and planned on their own. In all her long years, Durien had never tried to reason with one, or befriend one, but she felt so much pity for the beautiful gray creature who's great head bent in her direction now that she wondered if it was possible.

Swallowing hard, the elleth tried to think hard of something to say to the warg. The elves easily made and retained friendships with many living creatures - they rode horses without bit or bridle, and knew the languages of many birds. Suddenly, she wondered why none of the elves she knew had ever tried to communicate with a warg? As she thought about it, it occurred to her that perhaps Wargs had little choice in which side they fought on. She reasoned it like this: Draugluin, the great were-wolf who had sired the were-wolves of Sauron, and his son Carcharoth had terrorized Morgoth's foes for centuries, until the hound Huan had slain them both in turn. Even Sauron himself had taken wolf form when he walked abroad, and his hounds were descended from those same were-wolves. Although wargs were not were-wolves, with imprisoned spirits residing in wolf forms, it was difficult to tell them apart. Therefore both were hunted by men and elves alike, unfortunately resulting in the creation of a great animosity. Small wonder, then, that the wargs sided with the orcs on many occasions.

Still, the pup was too young to have learned so deep a hatred for either elder or edain, and could perhaps be reasonable. "You are a beautiful one." Durien said at last, truth ringing from her words. "The silver in your fur reminds me of the streams of mithril running through the mines of Moria." She sighed, ignoring the slightest baring of teeth at the mention of Moria. Wargs had no love for dwarves either, particularly after they, and Gandalf, had insulted one of the great pack leaders half a century ago . "Have you ever seen Mithril? It gleams like your fur in the moonlight and is one of the rarest, most valuable and most beautiful metals of Middle Earth. I wonder how your fur would shimmer in the moonlight as you ran free? How I wish I could see you then, nose in the fresh wind as you sniff out a stag in the moonlight, rather than here, in the dim light of this dungeon, this prison." She kept her voice wistful, which wasn't hard at all since she did greatly desire to see such a sight, as she spoke the warg. The pup cocked her head sideways and snuffed once at her words. Durien took that as a sign to continue.

"I could take you there you know. Or even to the great ice in the north, where you could live in freedom. There would be on orcs wanting to ride you, nor great numbers of elves and men to hunt you. Great stags now live there, and game is plenty along the edges of the ice." The pup still gazed at her. "There are smaller wolves there who build cozy dens of snow and raise their pups in peace. They are not as intelligent as you are and would eagerly follow your lead. You could have a pack of your own." A soft whuffling noise distracted her. The pup lay the object she had been chewing on to the side and lay her head on her paws, her golden eyes blinking at her as if to go on. "Would you like to hear a song about the White Fang, the great white wolf of the north and his kin?" Durien asked as she moved along the wall until she was opposite, and just out of range of, the warg. She slid her back down against the wall until she was seated, resting across from those golden eyes. There was no response, other than the brief twitch of an ear. Taking that as a sign to continue on, she started to sing in her native tongue, Sindarin.

Although she seldom sang as often as many of her kin did, her voice was hauntingly beautiful. She had not the range of her peers, but instead sang in the low mournful yet somehow comforting tone that rendered slow sad songs hauntingly, mesmerically so. When she ended in silence, the warg whined at her. "I think you need a name and since you cannot tell me yours, I shall have to create one for you." Another cocked head and wolfy grin. "Alright, how do you like Mithien?" Teeth bared and a growl ensued. Durien chuckled. "No then. How about Grayfang?" The growl turned into a howl of displeasure. The elleth covered her ears as she laughed. "Alright, alright, I get your point! Not Grayfang." She mused, thinking harder. "Celcharian?" The wolf immediately bounded over and gave the side of her face a good lick. Durien initally froze in response, the wolf faster than her reflexes since at some point during her song she had relaxed more than she thought and let down her guard. A second later, she had put a good twelve paces between them, grateful she was still in one piece. The warg whined and her tail tucked between her legs, but she stayed where she was.

Durien felt bad and approached the warg. "I'm sorry, you startled me is all." She held out her hand for the warg to sniff. Celcharian did so, then pushed the top of her head underneath the hand, begging for a scratch behind the ears. Durien obligingly complied, the thrill of touch a wild creature, of some intelligence, whose kindred were natural enemies of her own overwhelmed her. The thick silver and ebony fur was even softer and more luxurious than she had imagined, and she almost wanted to bury her face in it. She scratched the ears, then eventually the neck and tummy when the warg rolled over and begged for it, for some time before she laughed and back up once more. "I could stay here and pet you all day, but I need to move on." Durien paused, remembering her promise to take the Warg north to the ice. "Would you like to come with me?" Celcharian immediately rose to her paws, following Durien as she prepared to leave.

"Oh, you forgot your chew toy!" Durien pointed toward the thing left laying in the middle of the floor. Celcharian bounded over to it, picked up between her teeth and brought it back, dropping it on her boots before sitting back on her haunches. The raven haired elleth bent down to retrieve her present, gingerly lifting it between her forefinger and thumb as warg drool slid off of what appeared to be a rusty dagger. "Thank you." She commented only a bit dryly. Although she didn't need the warg drool, she was without a weapon and it might come in handy later. She turned to go once more, and Celcharian moved with her, but a sudden thought stopped her and made her turn to the warg once more. "Perhaps I should put this rope around your neck. That way if we get caught by orcs or goblins and something happens to me, they will think I am stealing you and not take it out on you." The warg growled at the mention of something happening to her, but pushed her nose against the rope as if to say it was a great idea. Loosely knotting one end of the elven rope, she formed a loop, which she slid over the warg's head. She held onto the free end. "Ready?" Although it was she who asked the question, the half-grown warg stepped forward as if to lead the way.

Arien
Arien
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@Aduchil Your unconventional blinding method has won you a way past the spider. Welcome to Level 5.

Level 5

You find a SHIELD which you may swap for one of your pieces of equipment.

Your opponent is an Uruk-hai. He is armed with a cleaver, but has no armour. Defeat him to progress.


@Durien Alas: like Dimcairien you must *defeat* and not befriend in the Tower of Might. The Warg pup is savage to the core and was only pretending friendship. It chews through your rope and attacks you. You now no longer have your rope.

Defeat the Wargling to proceed to level 3.
cave anserem
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Doorwarden of The Mark
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Shigzud
The Tower, Level Two, Rope and Rusty Dagger


Shigzud continued to walk down, relieved to hear no footsteps behind him. He couldn't wait to tell them all of how he had slain a mighty goblin. Of course in the retelling, there would be significantly less about him tripping. No, he would be a mighty orc who grappled with a fearsome goblin. A brave orc who had squared up to the vile creature. Oh how they had battled, furious hand to hand combat, ripping the skin from each other. At last, Shigzud would take the upper hand, bringing the terrible creature down, and using the rope to garrotte it. He would make sure to include as many gory and graphic details as he could, just to add some flavour. After all, who was going to question him?

Now he was on the next level and there was something glinting on the floor in front of him. Well, sort of glinting. Picking it up, he examined it carefully to see that it was a rusty dagger. Perhaps a little less rusty than the sword he had left behind at the entrance, but still not an ideal weapon. Shigzud wondered what he would need to use a dagger on. A growl from ahead answered that question. He looked up to see a warg watching him. It was only a little warg, but it still had an impressive set of fangs on it. And claws. Shigzud had the rope wrapped across his body and the dagger in hand. What to do, what to do.

The warg took a step foward. So did Shigzud. The warg moved one way. Shigzud moved the other. They began to circle each other. Suddenly, the warg darted it's head forward, snapping it's teeth. Shigzud yelped and swung the knife wildly. They both missed their intended target. This time the warg lunged, but Shigzud dodged and ran to the other side of the room. When he turned to look at the warg, it had already started running towards him. It was coming closer and closer, before it leaped up ready to rip out his throat. Shigzud raised the knife and closed his eyes.

A yelp. A whimper. Something warm on his hand. One eye slowly opened. The dagger might have been rusty, but it had been sharp enough. As the little warg had leaped, it had ended up going chest first into the dagger. Blood was pouring out over Shigzud's hand and dripping on the floor. He released the dagger and watched as it, and the warg, dropped to the floor. There was no sound or movement, he must have landed right on something very important, like an artery, or the heart. Shigzud grinned, once again he was victorious. Taking his bloody hand, he smeared it across his face. Another kill for the mighty Shigzud!
Last edited by Aethelu on Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Galadhrim Bowmaster
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Level 5, net and shield

Aduchil wandered on his merry way when something shiny caught his eye, reflecting non-existent sunlight. A shield! Round and functional, yet sadly a dull, brown colour. This would not do! It completely clashed with his colour scheme. He could never charge into battle with such aesthetics. This required immediate action. Sadly, he had traded away his emergency art supplies to a Dwarf going through a cubic phase in exchange for magic pills at that rave in Erebor, but necessity was the mother of invention. To work.

With quick fingers, Aduchil caught a handful of bugs and crushed them to a fine, red powder under his boot. Strips of ochre in the dirt supplied yellow. Mixed with dirty cave water trickling down the damp rock sides, Aduchil soon had his palet of colours. Finally, he bit off the ends of his hair, making for a brush. With the fine-tuned dexterity of many a culinary session, he began painting the shield. Soon there was a realistic rendition of The First Supper, that fateful moment when Elves abandoned raw food and first began to cook their meals. Ingwë was pushing chopped up vegetables into the pot while Finwë stirred and Elwë seasoned the stew. Magnifico.

Net and shield in hand, Aduchil continued until a dreadful Uruk-hai stood before him, wielding a cleaver. Immediately, Aduchil felt serious weapon envy - he had not wielded a kitchen tool in ages. Fortunately, he had his own weapons. Armed like the gladiators of Umbar with net, it was obvious what to do. Aduchil threw the shield straight at the orc's unprotected head.

The fiend held up his cleaver in defence, and the shield hit his hand instead, making him drop the weapon. Quickly, Aduchil threw the net to catch himself a blade and pull it to him. Sneering, the Uruk-hai picked up the shield instead, but he made the fateful mistake of gazing onto its painted front. He froze for a moment, as if an intrepid hero had cut off the head of a snake-haired woman whose gaze could petrify onlookers and attached it to the shield, yet the effect was accomplished through artistry alone. Truly, the beauty of art left none unaffected, not even an Uruk-hai.

Aduchil seized the moment to grab the cleaver and throw it straight into the orc's forehead. The shield fell from his hands as he collapsed to the ground, dead. "Well Anne, he who Cleves last, Cleves best," he told the dead creature. He picked up his shield. Damnation, it had gotten a dent. Now it looked like Ingwë was trying to push Finwë into the pot.

The shield was not the only weapon. The cleaver called to Aduchil. Hesitating, he bent down to grasp its wooden handle. As his fingers closed around the hilt, he felt the urge to cut and carve. Filet, entrecôte, sirloin, tenderloin, ribeye. The dark side of meat consumption called to him. Instead of a dark lord, there would be a chef, beautiful and tasty as the safran! All would eat his food and despair! None would overcook steak, but serve it red or medium red!

No, no. No! That path led only to death and increased cholesterol. Aduchil let go. Picking up his net instead, he continued, leaving the cleaver behind.
Last edited by Aduchil on Mon Jun 15, 2020 1:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Sage of Khazad-dûm
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Ellisiva Ylva
LEVEL ONE

Ellisiva stared at horror at the Uruk-hai. Lay down all weapons and armour! But what was a warrior without a weapon? Her hands curled around the polished hilt of the sword she held so dear. How could you meet any challenge without a weapon? This seemed completely absurd. She considered the various blades hidden upon her person, but this Uruk-hai looked like she could squash Ellisiva like a fly. With resignation she laid down her sword and started to unbuckle the various bits of armour she wore out of habit. These were followed by several leaf bladed, palm sized blades. She spread her hands to show Karaghan that she had done as requested. The Uruk-hai nodded and continued, "Your challenge awaits you in a series of caves just below. Go down the stairs into the first chamber, warrior, and meet your challenge. You may use only whatever you find, and your wits.”

Ellisiva gave Karaghan a slightly sickened smile and swung her arms to warm up her muscles. It was called the Tower of Might for a reason, it would be strength and intelligence that worked now. She would have to rely on her wits and her reflexes to get her through this. Hopefully this wouldn't end messily for her. Through the first door was darkness and she paused a moment to let her eyes adjust. The air hasn't changed too much, she presumed because she was still fairly close to ground level, but there were no light inlets cut into the caves. She stretched out her arms sideways, waiting until her palms made contact with the rough hewn walls. She started to creep forward, keeping her palms out for reference and as she moved forward a few metres her hand brushes against a dry rope. Ellisiva tentatively gave it a pull and it fell, coiling at her feet. Remembering what Karaghan had said, the woman coiled it quickly around her arm, sure that it would come in use later.

She continued down into the caves, feeling the slope dip and undulate under her boots. As she rounded the corner, the space widened out and out the corner of the shadows crept a average sized goblin, slobbering and leaning slightly to one side. He seemed to have sustained some last injury at some point, meaning he favoured one side and held one arm closer to his body. Ellisiva dropped her body slightly into a defensive crouch, ready to move out of his way if he turned out to be a quick one. She eyed him, sensing if he was going to make the first move. It appeared not, so she quickly unrolled the rope, hooping it around her hand and charged. As she travelled, she turned her body and rising onto the balls on her feet, kicked at the goblin's weaker side. He grunted and snarled at her, reaching to punch her side, but Ellisiva had already moved around so she was facing his back. Twirling her wrist, she threw the hooped rope in a arc, dropping it smartly over his shoulders and tightening it with tug. The goblin was pulled from his feet and hit the floor, his skull hitting the rock floor with a crack. Ellisiva held her tension for a moment, making sure the goblin didn't move. When she was positive he was either dead or unconscious she moved towards him, rolled him onto his front and undid the pull knot which had made her lasso. Pulling her rope with her, Ellisiva headed past the body and further down into the caves.
Family Stealtharm | Sil's #1 Property | Knowledge of a woman, pride of a dwarf | Khazâd ai-mênu!

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Arien
Arien
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@Aethelu - another kill for the mighty Shizgud indeed! She is good.
You have reached Level Three

You find a NET which you may swap out for your dagger or rope.

This time you’re facing the Wargling’s parents - and they’re pretty angry with you for beating up on their cub. In fact you might say they’re rabidly angry...

@Aduchil: a bizarrely inventive way of killing is a great way of killing. Congratulations.

You have reached Level 6

You may take the Uruk’s CLEAVER which you may swap for one of your pieces of equipment. Except you already haven’t, so never mind.

Your opponent is an Olog-hai. He is armed with a spiked mace - and needs no armour as his skin is very tough. Defeat him to progress.

@Queen Nerwen: well done, you have cracked the goblin’s skull successfully and are through to Level 2

Level 2 Dungeons

You find a RUSTY DAGGER as your weapon and you still have your ROPE.

Your enemy this round is a half-grown but feisty Warg. Defeat her to reach level 3.
cave anserem
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Elven Enchanter
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Gorfank

Apparently the Warling had no interest in finding its parents and instead of lovingly licking Gorfank like it had earlier, it began to bite him. "Damnit!" he shouted jerking away from the animal. "Guess treating you with respect didn't go very well did it?" Figuring that the lasso trick had more or less worked on the low-class goblin, Gorfank decided to try again and see if he could subdue the Wargling has he didn't want to kill it … at least, not right away. Again, Wargs made for excellent companions to ride to war with.

Quickly, Gorfank tied the loop and tried to take a step back from the Warg, but managed to trip. Thankfully, not on top of the rope. Regaining his senses, he lay on his back and began to swing his arm in a circle, getting the noose all ready. Meanwhile, the Wargling was sniffing around trying to find where he had done. Not wanting to cause any permanent damage, Gorfank was aiming for the tail. After a moment, the Wargling turned its back and he had a perfect shot at the tail. Gorfank swiftly let the noose fly and with a quick pull, the rope pulled taught around the tail. But now he had to deal with an angry Warg puppy that was suddenly restrained.

His beady eyes searched the dark room, wondering if there was anything to snag the other end of the rope on. Finding nothing, he thrust the rusty dagger through the rope at one end and stabbed it into the ground. That should keep the Wargling penned for enough time for him to get to the next level. With that, he dashed down to the third level.

OOC:
I'm back! It's been a rough past few days and I had no brains/energy to try many RP posts.
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Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Sage of Khazad-dûm
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Ellisiva Ylva
LEVEL TWO
Rope, rusty dagger and warg


Ellisiva hummed to herself as she continued to walk down, thankful that there were no footsteps behind her. She felt no shame or regret in dealing with the goblin creature. Probably he had been in pain and decrepit anyway, if anything she had shown him a merciful favour. She hoped her father would have approved of her ingenuity, though when she told him she might start out with three enemies rather than just one. That would be even more impressive and curry more favour, and favour was what kept the Ylva family ticking.

Her step crunched as she came up the bottom of the stairway and found herself on the next level. To her right, something disturbed the symmetry of the walls and she approached to examine it. Her minute hopes of a weapon were quickly dashed as she picked gingerly at the rusty dagger before her. "Is this...a rusty dagger I see before me?" she mused, sarcastically, to no-one but herself and the voices who occasionally appeared in her head. Sighing, Ellisiva gripped the hilt and wiggling, hoping it would just crumble in her hands and although she definitely felt it flake it came away from the chink in the wall with not much trouble. So now she had a rope and a dagger, positively rich in the weaponry stakes at last!

It was then that a damp scent rose to meet her nostrils. It was foisty, cloying, wet hair and raw meat sort of smell. The woman wrinkled her nose. Her heart quickened. Could there be a beast up again? Had this dagger be left to distract her or to arm her? She held it aloft as she flattened herself into the curvature of the wall and approach softly. Out the corner of her eye, she glimpsed it, just a tuft of matted hair and serrated fang. Not fully grown but enough muscle and meat to bring her down easily if the warg got its speed up. Throwing caution to the wing, Ellisiva bunched her legs and charged around the rest of the corner screaming "YLVAAAAAAAA". As the wargs eyes followed her, she leapt and turned in the air, bringing one foot firmly down on the middle of its spine, grasping a handful of hair at the nape of its neck and raking hard with the dagger in the spot she supposed the jugular vein would be. The warg shook and shook, snapping at her, but she was just out of reach, the strong muscles of its neck preventing it from being flexible as she held on with her knees. After what felt like minutes and hours, hot blood gushed over her hands and the warg collapsed beneath her. Ellisiva sat there for a moment, triumphant but breathing heavily, up to her elbows in warg blood. Not once had she let go of the dagger and now it was hers forever.

Family Stealtharm | Sil's #1 Property | Knowledge of a woman, pride of a dwarf | Khazâd ai-mênu!

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Balrog
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 6


He picked the cleaver up, leaving the stake buried in the neck of the uruk. Blood still pumped through the gaping wound, leaving a growing thick, sludgy puddle beneath him. He smiled a toothy grin, the left corner of his mouth curling devilishly.

Then there was a thud. A booming sound echoed through the chamber. It came from below, in the next chamber. There was something big waiting for him in there. His hand grasped the cleaver tighter. It was slick and sticky. He gulped down a breath began moving forward. He started by walking, but with each step his anticipation was growing. By the time he crossed the threshold into the next chamber he was running at a full sprint. The sight of a massive Olog-hai greeted Búrzghâsh. He didn’t have time to be awestruck by the sheer size of the creature. A massive spike club came hurtling down like a falling star. He barely had time to lift the shield before the lightning bolt struck. He was hurled against the far wall. If he had not hidden his entire body behind the shield, he would have lost the cleaver and the arm holding it. The wind was knocked out of him. He gasped for breath, feebly gulping at the air like a fish.

The troll, luckily, was slow and ponderous. He was able to use the precious few seconds to regain his footing. He dodged the next thunder bolt, diving to the floor and dashing around to the trolls opposite side. Again, the great club fell but Búrzghâsh leapt aside, dodging within the reach of the troll this time. He tried a quick slice with the cleaver but the skin was too tough. He rolled underneath the legs and ran to the far side of the room. The troll followed, another blow was aimed, but again he was just quick enough to dodge again, this time by a hair’s breadth. He feinted forward, acting as though he was about make a strike. The troll backed up and the orc used the space to dash to the other side of the room.

He did this over and over, feinting one way and going another. Over and over, the troll took swings with his great club, but none of them hit. He was beginning to tire. He was a massive brute, a behemoth of monstrous flesh but even the Olog-hai could not fight in single combat forever.

Búrzghâsh jumped forward after another miss from the troll’s hammer and tried another cut. This time using as much force as he could to try and penetrate the thick hide. It glanced off again but the blade of the cleaver went up, using the rest of his forward momentum to slash against the troll’s belly. The strike had no strength behind it but it scored. The troll howled in agony and he howled back at it in sheer delighted bloodlust. He ducked under the troll’s legs again, slamming the shield as hard as he could against the ankle of the monster with one hand while slashing with the cleaver in the other.

Both attacks seemed to work as the troll’s footing gave way and he stumbled. He tripped backwards and slammed his head on the ground. The stones beneath him cracked with the force. The orc was on him in a flash, shrieking with glee as he brought the clever across and slashed at the downed creature’s eyes. Blood spurted everywhere and there was a howl of agony. A massive paw reached out blindly, grabbing for the orc as he landed on the other side. He dodged the hand just in time as it brushed against the shield. His stomach dropped a little when he realized he had come that close to being grabbed and squashed. He rounded on the troll and began slamming the shield into him, giving it every bit of strength and energy he had left. He started screaming wordlessly, the same scream that had carried it passed the goblin, wargs, and spider. Now it was pushing him past the troll. He slammed wildly into the troll’s face, using the cleaver to slash at it’s hands every time they came close until the troll seemed completely out of energy. The hands slumped to the side and ceased moving, barely twitching.

Búrzghâsh climbed on top of the troll, dropping the cleaver and wielding the shield two handed. He began slamming down as hard as he could until he could feel flesh beginning to give way. He could feel his footing on the troll’s chest getting slick as black blood starting spurting out from the wound. He slammed harder, finding a reserve of frenzied energy. The tearing sounds echoed in the chamber as the shield bit through more and more flesh. With a final slam, the shield bit through the last bit of bone and sinewy and clanged hard against the stone floor.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Arien
Arien
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@Dimcairien Luiniel and @Queen Nerwen - congratulations, you have both made it through to level 3! Alas Gorfank has sacrificed both his weapons to capture the Warg...

Level 3 Dungeons

You find a NET which you may swap out for your dagger or rope. Unless you are Gorfank in which case it’s the only weapon you have (unless you go back and deal with the Wargling some other way)!

This time you’re facing the Wargling’s parents - and they’re pretty angry with you for beating up on their cub. In fact you might say they’re rabidly angry...

@Frosty the Snowman - splendidly disgusting as usual! Through to Level 7.

Level 7

You may take the SPIKED MACE to swap for one of your pieces of equipment.

You face two warg-riders mounted on savage wargs. One orc is armed with bow and arrows, the other with a sword. Defeat them all to progress.
cave anserem
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Doorwarden of The Mark
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Shigzud
Level Three, Rope and Net


Shigzud the slayer. Yes, that was what they would call him. Killer of goblins and wargs alike. Oh how he had fought bravely with against the slobbering warg with its huge fangs and vicious claws. It had been a battle to the death, but it would not be Shigzud's death. Armed with only a dagger, the pair had clashed until at last the warg had lain dead at his feet. How big was the warg, they would ask. The biggest you've ever seen. How did you manage to stab him with just a dagger, they would gasp. With speed and grace the likes of which you couldn't imagine from such an average looking orc. Truly a brave and clever warrior, they would swoon. Yes, he was.

Now for the next level. It was getting colder and damper it seemed to Shigzud, the air smelled different. He looked to the ground, trying to make sure there was nothing on the ground that he might slip on. It wouldn't be much of a brave tale if he failed by slipping on some lichen growing across the floor. When he looked he saw his next weapon, a large net. He scooped it up to take a look at it. With the wargling dead, he had considered taking the dagger with him. All he would have to do is try and retrieve it from its chest. That had seemed like a lot of effort though, and there was always a new weapon on the next floor. Now he was wondering if that had been the best choice. A net? Compared to a dagger? Not ideal.

As he looked up, Shigzud took note of his next target. Or more, targets. Two wargs, bigger than the previous. Perhaps it had only been a baby. Perhaps it had been their baby. This was going to be a problem. In his moment of victory he had wiped the blood of the wargling across his face. Now he was standing with wargling blood across his face and hands, probably facing down its parents while stinking of its entrails. This was going to be hard.

One of the wargs began to stalk towards him, teeth bared. In a panic Shigzud threw the net hoping to at least slow it down while he thought. The net was weighted around the edges. As soon as it wrapped around the warg it went down with a yelp. It started to whine, which diverted the attention of the other warg from Shigzud. It rushed over, trying to claw at the net to pull it off. There was another loud yelp from the trapped warg as the claws of the other warg dug in as it tried to pull away the net. For a while, the warg continued to claw at the net to loosen it, but it's sharp claws were doing more damage to its mate than the net, blood was starting to seep into the net. It was clear it wasn't working, so now it tried to grab the net with its teeth. Once again, it wasn't a precise grab and the trapped warg began to snap and growl as blood bloomed on its fur. A few more grabs, a few more snaps, and the net was ripped away. But the now freed warg was furious. It was bleeding from bites and scratches inflicted by its mate. Shigzud had expected that it would turn its anger on him, but instead it lunged at its mate.

The two wargs began to fight viciously. They clawed at each other with loud yelps. They bit each other with low growls. The injured warg was still strong as it tore at the flesh of its mate, but the other gave as good as it got. Soon they were both panting hard, fur soaked in blood, and even starting to limp. Shigzud stayed quiet in the shadows, they didn't need his help. With a final howl, one warg raised itself up to attack. There was a flash of claws as the other slashed across its belly, its guts starting to spill out as it dropped down. The now mortally wounded warg opened its jaws wide and clamped down on the neck of the other. Its teeth pierced through the skin and blood began to pour from its neck. In moments the two were lying still on the floor, blood and entrails spread out around them. There was no sound. Shigzud waited for a moment, but he could see no way the two were going to get back up. Slowly, he moved towards the wargs. There was no movement, no breath, black eyes staring out at nothing. He couldn't resist and let out a victory yell. Shigzud the mighty! Shigzud the slayer!
Last edited by Aethelu on Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Sage of Khazad-dûm
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Ellisiva Ylva
Level 3
Dagger and Net (and two wargs)

Ellisiva took a moment to catch her breath but did not have time to savour her victory over the small warg. She knew there were more chambers, further challenges and the sooner she finished, the sooner she would feel the fresh air on her skin once more. She stood up, re-gripping the dagger in her hand and noticed a strong net hanging by the door. Having only two hands and no pockets, she dropped her rope behind her and grabbed the net instead. It felt more useful than the rope had been, which after being lassoed round a goblin, had started to fray somewhat.

As she proceeded up the stairs once more, a deep growling and snarling could be heard. In fact, two lots of growling and snarling. What was this? Some sort of warg sanctuary? She wasn't here on a petting zoo experience she was here to defeat the tower of might. Ellisiva tried to keep her heart beat steady and her breathing calm,
she flipped the dagger and tightened her reverse grip on the rusted dagger. The blood of the wargling on her hands and arms had started to soak into the net, giving it a gruesome tie-dye effect.

Ellisiva circled upwards as the staircase spiralled, the snarls and growls getting loaded and louder. She swallowed and then burst into the chamber, uttering a half cry, half growl herself, brandishing net and dagger, and draw up short, quickly backing up against the wall. There were indeed two huge wargs slobbering and growling in the chamber, but they were chained just out of reach if she stayed by the door. She couldn't proceed ahead because there was no clear passage between the beasts but here on the edges she had a moment of respite. The wargs snapped at her, straining on their huge chains and collars, nostril flaring and eyes rolling. Ellisiva tracked them with her blue eyes, frowning slightly. One in particular seemed to be pulling towards her net. She hefted it, feeling the weight, judging her throw, and then span it up and over the warg. The weighted edges feathered out perfectly, dropping over the warg's mighty heads as it turned and snapped at the blood soaked hemp, savouring the blood. As the other beast starting to howl, Ellisiva dove after the warg who was struggling beneath the net, dodging teeth and claws to sink her blade into the warg's side and stomach. The dagger momentarily caught on a warg rib and there was a horrific grating nose as she tugged it free, bringing forth more gushing bloody. The warg thrashed, then quivered, then lay still, it's body leaking. She knelt on the floor to wipe the rusty blade as clean as she could and then twisted to face the other warg. Ellisiva's blonde hair was now tipped with blood, the life of the first wargling was drying on her arms, while the blood of this second beast was glistening across her chest. She bared her teeth at the warg who was still thrashing again its bonds, and spat across the room at it, clearing her mouth.

The woman stood,flexing through her shoulders and rolling her back muscles and neck. This jumping and rolling was tiring work. With an effort, she untangled the dead warg from the now very blood soaked net, stepped over the body and departed the chamber with a disdainful look at the warg left behind.
Family Stealtharm | Sil's #1 Property | Knowledge of a woman, pride of a dwarf | Khazâd ai-mênu!

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Arien
Arien
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@Aethelu they will swoon indeed... You got very lucky there! The Wargs having done half the work for you, progress on to Level 4.

@Queen Nerwen Ellisiva strikes again! You too progress on to level 4 with your bloody work complete.

Level 4
You find a STAKE which you may swap out for one of your other pieces of equipment.

Your opponent this round is a Spider - spawn of Shelob or imported from Mirkwood, who can say? Evade her webs which are sneakily strung around the darkened cave, and her venomous bite, to progress to level 5.
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Balrog
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Búrzghâsh
Tower of Might, Level 7


Amidst the gore and blood, Búrzghâsh took a moment to consider his surroundings. How much further did this dungeon go? How far underground was he about to venture? What awaited him at the end?

He pushed those thoughts aside. This was not a moment for careful planning and existential questions about the future. This was a time for glory and victory! He screeched, the sound reverberating crazily off the sides of the chamber until the entire dungeon was alight with the sounds of his power mad bloodlust. The sounds finally died though, dwindling to nothing but a whisper. He lifted the shield, covered entire with black sludge. He traced a finger over it and tasted the dead troll’s blood. It was tangy and sour. His eyes then fell on the giant spike mace. It was bigger than he was and would be hell to wield but, oh the damage he could cause with that! He glanced uninspired at the cleaver and chuckled sardonically. There was no way he was choosing a rusty chopping kitchen tool over the massive mace. Even if he could barely wield it.

He dragged the thing behind him, casting a rent in the floor behind him, a serpentine path leading him back toward the surface.

He barely entered the next chamber when an arrow shot out of the darkness. It clanged off his shield, startling him back into wariness. He ducked behind the shield and raced forward, the giant mace scrapping and bouncing behind him. As he reached the center of the massive chamber, two wargs came into view, riders on both. They bounded toward him on either side. He was trapped! The warg rider on his left was notching another arrow. He had to move fast, somewhat regretting his decision to leave the cleaver behind.

He dropped the shield and grabbed the spike mace with two hands. With a running start, he began swinging the Brobdingnagian thing around in a wide arc over his head. He was a mere five feet from the warg when the mace came crashing down on his foe, catching the warg full in the face. There was a whimper and the sounds of breaking bones, teeth scattered across the chamber. The warg wobbled for half a heartbeat then collapsed. Búrzghâsh dropped the mace and flung himself over the dead creature, spearing the orc before he could recover himself. He grabbed an arrow that had skittered away and madly started jamming it into the flesh of his foe.

He forgot about the second rider though. While he was stabbing away with his arrow, the rider came around and the warg’s teeth bit hard into his unprotected back and threw him across the chamber. He skittered across the floor and finally landed in a heap. Blood was seeping from his wound, it stung and burned, but he couldn’t reach it. He wiggled his toes. He could still move. With a few short, spastic breaths, he lifted himself up. The pain was like a fire down his back, but he could ignore it. He could push it down for now. The warg was charging again, it’s rider had his blade out, whipping dangerously. Búrzghâsh charged, racing down the warg’s right side, the orc rider smirked, likely expecting easy prey. At the last second though, Búrzghâsh rolled to the warg’s left side, out of harm’s way from the orc’s sword. The rider swung wild, trying to slash across his body at a target moving toward him and missed. Búrzghâsh took advantage of the gap and leapt onto the warg’s back. He balanced long enough to rip the rider out of his saddle and onto hard stone floor. He grappled with the orc, each trying to grab the sword that had fallen with them. Búrzghâsh had the better luck, falling closer to the blade. Without getting a proper grip on the sword, he swung it around, slamming his opponent full in the face, slashing across his eyes, blinding him. He howled with rage and charged at Búrzghâsh but an easy sidestep and counter slash ended that fight. Last was the warg, claws clicking against the stone with sinister purpose.

Sword in hand, he charged the beast. They leapt at each other at the same moment, both suspended in the air, plunging toward each other. Búrzghâsh managed to hold the blade straight out and jammed the sword through the open mouth of the warg, inches from biting his head off. They tumbled to the ground, the sword scattering away as the two energies collided. He was up first, the warg was heavily weakened but not dead yet. He slammed his foot down against the warg’s lower jaw and grabbed the upper jaw with both hands. Summoning all his strength, Búrzghâsh tore upwards, ripping the jaw up and out of its socket. He could feel the sickening tearing of muscle as he released the jaw. It fell limp with a widening pool of blood beneath it.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Arien
Arien
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@Bïfrøst
Your incredible efforts have not gone to waste - though you are somewhat injured, you have made it through to the next dungeon

Level 8

You may take the SWORD and/or BOW AND ARROWS to swap for your two current pieces of equipment.

Your opponent is a young OLIPHAUNT. How did we get it down here? Don’t ask questions. It has long tusks, Stampy Feet and it’s not best pleased about being down here, but its eyesight isn’t the best. Defeat it to get to the next level.
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Doorwarden of The Mark
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Shigzud
Level Four, Rope and Stake


Shigzud was sure now he was destined for greatness. What other explanation could there be? He had defeated a goblin and three wargs, he was unstoppable at this point clearly. Defeating two wargs at the same time, how many could say that? Someone would have to write a song about him. Now there was a worry starting to gnaw away at him. While it was true that in the future he could tell whatever tales of his victory he wanted, in this moment he hadn't actually done any killing. Not really. Well sort of. Depending on how you looked at it. There was going to come a point, he was sure, when he would actually have to fight. While that little knot of worry was there, it wasn't enough to overtake his growing confidence.

It was less a walk onto the next level and more of a swagger. It was dark, darker than the previous level. There was something strange about the place, something about the walls. Shigzud shrugged it off and looked around for his new weapon. The net had been far too damaged by the wargs for it to be worth taking. He still had his rope, and he still had no clue what he was going to do with it. The new weapon turned out to be a stake, not too long, but definitely sharp. He turned it around in his hands, it wasn't too weighty he could throw it if needed he was sure.

Click.

Shigzud looked up into the darkened cave. He'd heard a noise he was sure of it. Gripping the stake in one hand he peered into the gloom.

Click.

There it was again. Such a strange sound.

Click.

This time the click was followed by a rustling sound. Shigzud took a step back, then another, until he was up against a wall. It was a very strange feeling wall. Sort of sticky. He reached to touch the wall before raising his hand to his eyes. Squinting, he looked at it carefully. It almost looked like a spider web.

Click.

Dropping his hand down he looked towards the sound. His eyes had finally fully adjusted to the darkness and there, lurking just at the edge of the cave, was a spider. It wasn't huge, but it was certainly big enough. Shigzud hated spiders. He HATED them. The spider locked eyes with him. Shigzud swallowed hard. The spider began to scuttle towards him. With a deeply undignified scream, Shigzud started running. He ran around and around the cave, the spider following him. The spider at first followed on the ground, but on the 5th lap, it moved up onto the walls. Its eyes were fixed on the fleeing orc. There was nowhere for him to go after all except around and around and around. He'd tire eventually.

The spider didn't even notice when a bit of her own web caught on one of her legs. She was hungry, her whole attention was focused. Somehow Shigzud was managing to avoid the strings of web or wildly batting them away with his hands. With each lap of the cave, more bits of web were getting stuck to the spiders legs. Shigzud was starting to tire, as well as starting to get dizzy. It wasn't long before he stumbled and fell against the wall. This was it, this had to be the end this time. Turning, he felt his heart sink as the spider began to leap towards him. The web around its legs had wrapped up tight enough now that when she tried to jump, there was no way to move her legs properly. Instead of landing on Shigzud and sinking her fangs into him, she fell to one side. She landed on a particularly dense patch of web. As she began to struggle and thrash, more and more of her own web was wrapping around her body. While Shigzud waited for the room to stop spinning, he watched with glee as the spider got more and more stuck. Finally, both the spider and the room stopped moving.

Slowly, and with a little trepidation, he began to approach the immobile spider. Hopefully if she was wrapped up tight, he could just leave it be. Maybe she would starve to death. Maybe she would accidentally stab herself with her own fangs. Maybe he could just run away and pretend this cave didn't exist. Leaning over, he tried to look for any signs of life. The spider burst into life, fighting hard against her traitorous web. Shigzud once again let out a scream that would make any orc who heard it shun him for life. Without thinking, he drove the stake down hard into the spiders body. She let out her own scream, though it certainly wasn't as high pitched as Shigzud's. She thrashed a little more, shuddered, and then fell still. Breathing hard, he stared at the still body. Had he...had he actually...had he actually killed something? Had he actually dealt the death blow? Yes it had been a reflex, but he was the one who had jammed the stake in. Yes the spider had helpfully wrapped itself up like a present for him, but he had stabbed the thing.

Shigzud was a cold blooded killer now. A true warrior. They wouldn't just write a song about him, they would write a whole musical about him. And he still had his rope.
Last edited by Aethelu on Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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