The Hobbit INSANITY: A Somewhat Expected Quest

[Rivvy Elf]

BALROG BROS. PICTURES (LOGO)
GORGOROTH COLISEUM THEATRE (LOGO)
CORRUPTED-GOLDBERRY MAIA (LOGO)


GORGOROTH COLISEUM THEATRE (LOGO) AND CORRUPTED-GOLDBERRY MAIA (LOGO) present

A SWALLOWCOCONUT PLAY PRODUCTION

DIRECTED BY: ORCO DEL ORO
CO-DIRECTED BY: MORDOR TROLL

The HoppitHobbit: A Somewhat Expected Quest



Inspired by the 2002 LOTR INSANITY Thread

Source for Movie Transcript: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WSL ... &forcehl=1

Previous the Hobbit INSANITY Thread: http://web.archive.org/web/201604271958 ... cted-Quest

OOC Thread: viewtopic.php?f=14&t=54


CASTING CALL: BATTLE OF AZANULBIZAR

Prompter- Rivvy Elf

BY ORDER OF APPEARANCE:

Bilbo- Rivvy Elf
Balin- Dimcairien Luiniel
Thror- Aelita Sedryn
Azog- Sil
Thrain- Lirimaer
Dain Ironfoot Oakenshield- KingODuckingham (A Cardboard Cutout?)
Thorin Oakenshield- Fairy Nuff
ThorinDain's Oaken Shield- Oro
Dwalin- Laintaen
Durin's Bane- A Cardboard Cutout played by Loke Clogwearer (Budget Limitations)
Disposable 'Dwarf' Soldiers- Aerlinn
Disposable 'Moria Goblin' Minions- Sil, Moriel, Landy
Future Goblin King- Thalionwen
The Actor that was supposed to play Tauriel- Uruva
The Goblin Queen?- Orco

AUDIENCE (with Orc popcorn, rotten tomatoes, Leg O'las', etc.)- Lúthien Tinúviel, Lirimaer, Almarëa Mordollwen

__________________________

Orco del Oro, along with his helper, Mordor Troll, has decided to direct a reenactment of The Quest for Erebor... Unfortunately the only copy of the script got lost somewhere in the Withered Heath within the belly of some suspiciously golden dragon-like thing. Mordor Troll created the prompts and character lists for Orco del Oro, but the dialogue was left abandoned. Undeterred, Orco del Oro used his connections to send a Call-Out for casting to all corners of Middle-Earth for the Battle of Azanulbizar. Depending on success, he may continue to issue further Call-Outs for onward sections of the reenactment.

Orco del Oro trusts that the casted members, based on the prompt, can make up their script as they go per the 'contract' they signed. However, del Oro has also 'brought along' a few 'agreeable' audience members, and opened the Gorgoroth Coliseum Theatre open to anyone in the public who could pay the toll. To compensate for their time, they are given food from Mordor Troll, including roasted Orc popcorn, refreshments (alcoholic and poisonous), and "Fruit". Boxes of "Fruit" are next to all audience members' seats. This is not a racketeering scheme by Orco del Oro, and he does not appreciate any insinuation on his honor and integrity regarding this project.

_________________________

MORDOR ROTTEN TOMATO MINI-GAME


All actors are 'voluntary' participants of the Mordor Rotten Tomato Mini-Game. The game will occur immediately following the end deadline for a prompt (a prompt lasts for 48-72 hours, depending on said prompt). In this game, del Oro and any interested audience members can throw 1 item of whatever they wish at any actor they wish to target. Idle actors make great targets after all :). It will be recorded each time somebody is hit by fruit on the "Board of Rotten Tomatoes". This board shall be edited in the OP of the OOC thread and updated accordingly


MINI-GAME RULES

1. All actors automatically enter the mini-game.
2. The mini-game will occur immediately after the end of a prompt and before the beginning of a new prompt
3. Audience members have 48 hours to choose 1 item to throw at one actor
4. Following the 48 hours, Actors have 24 hours to respond.
5a. A 6-sided die roll shall be cast. If actor does not respond, a result of 1 will result in a dodge, 2-6 will result in a hit.
5b. If an actor responds with a post I like (funny, serious, seriously funny, etc.), I will increase the dodge rate accordingly up to a die roll of 5 (1-5) resulting in a dodge.
6. Each time a person is hit, it shall be recorded on "The Board of Rotten Tomatoes"
7. If you get hit, 1 point will be deducted from your score on the board (e.g 0 becomes -1). Dodging will earn you one point, however (e.g 0 becomes 1)
8. There are hidden achievements in this game, and if you meet these arbitrary achievements, you will earn points in this RPG
9. Those who end with a score of at least a 0 or higher may automatically reprise their role for the next section of the RPG (the next casting call). Those in the negatives will have to manually sign-up again.

__________________

The venue has been reserved. Known as the "Gorgoroth Coliseum," it was once a Numenorean entertainment complex in the backdrop of the four-and-a-half romantic colonial resort near Mt. Doom. Multiple eruptions, a Last Alliance War, and many troll 'construction' accidents later, it now looks the way it is. It is in the middle of the Gorgoroth Plain, in full viewing pleasure or disgust of Lord Sauron from his tower at Barad-dûr (at least when he's in Mordor). The below depiction is a Numenorean propagandist depiction with the very distracting Mt. Doom removed in the background.

Below the "Gorgoroth Coliseum" is the underground 'backstage' area. It is a very large cavern with many cages and barred doors mean for prisoners. Fauna and flora is unknown, but probably dangerous. The cavern is connected to the Coliseum's floor through a complex combination of stairs and manually operated platform-elevators with trap doors. In charge of the costumes/makeup is Kirstel, the 'GIANT OVER-INTELLIGENT FRIENDLY SPIDER,' as is labelled on her giant collar. Her helpers for makeup and prosthetics are a bunch of goblins.


Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/ ... l_2007.jpg

Actors: Welcome! You have either been willing or unwillingly recruited/kidnapped by the director to play in this stage production. Your gathering point is underneath the Coliseum in the backstage area. When you're not acting, you can be anywhere you want, just not on the Coliseum floor. Feel free to RP 'backstage', get to know your fellow actors, interact with the dangerous unknown underground dwelling animals/plants, etc. When you are ready to get dressed/put on prosthetics/make-up/etc., please approach Kistrel (Kirstel) the Spider and her goblins. Feel free to godmode their actions, but please don't kill Kistrel, she is expensive to replace! The goblins? eh, they're disposable.

Audience: The seats are free, so long as you make a generous contribution to the Troll Preservation Fund near the Coliseum entrances. Yes, the guard trolls carrying the donation bags will notice if you do not contribute anything. Feel free to take your seats in the Coliseum! Concession stands will open soon.

Orco del Oro will arrive and the Opening Overture/Prompt will start in 48 Hours


OTHER RULES:

-You can have multiple roles :). You can be part of the audience too.
-Sign-ups shall last at least a week or whenever there is enough people to begin the scene
-Open to everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY and EVERYTHING. You can even play as a tree or a rock if you wish
-You may RP your actions or use Script-Speak (See link of Movie transcript above for an example Script-Speak)
-Plaza Members can be both in the play and be in the audience, just use different PCs, OCs (other characters), or NPCs (non-player characters [e.g orc spawn 549])
-You may ask questions in the OOC Thread, which is this thread :P

[Laintaen]

Laintaen responded to the casting call at once. All she saw was “Actors wanted” and she sent off her letter of interest. It was only when the acceptance letter arrived that the trouble started.

“Dwalin? In the Gorgoroth Coliseum Theatre? I have to go to Mordor to act as a Dwarf?”

How does an Elf go about pretending to be an Orc pretending to be a Dwarf?

At least she would have plenty of time to think about it on the walk to Mordor. It wasn’t like the Eagles would take her. :smiley10:

Along the way to Mordor, she must have fallen in every mud puddle and by the time she arrived at the Black Gate, she was filthy, covered in scratches, clothes torn to rags, and her hair was so untidy, it could be mistaken for a beard. Thus she approached the guard at the Gate. “Hi, I’m a Dwarf. No, I’m an Orc pretending to be a Dwarf. I'm… Dworc!”

The bluff must have worked, as she was ushered inside and directed to the theatre. She looked around the empty area. “Good thing I’m playing Dwalin,” she thought. “I even beat the host!”

[Silky Gooseness]

Silarien, An Elf, playing Azog

“So, Krystel-”
“Kirstel,” said the giant spider tersely.
“Oh yah, sure, Kristen,” said Silarien airily, tossing her sheaf of moon-bright hair over her shoulder to disguise her shudder of disgust. “I mean, I’m sure you’re a professional and all despite your hideous appearance - you can certainly see what you’re doing, and you can hold a LOT of make up brushes all at once- ”

Silarien eyed some of the said brushes with envy. That looked like genuine Rhosgobel rabbit hair. The absolute softest stuff.

“But do they have to be there? They keep staring at me. I know I’m probably the best looking thing they’ve ever seen in their lives, especially next to you to provide some perspective, but they’re really putting me off my lunch.”

One of Kirstel’s multi-faceted eyes observed the single lettuce leaf Silarien was gesturing to, then swivelled slowly back to the elf.

“Unless they’re like, life models or something?” mused Silarien, taking out an exquisitely carved pocket mirror and examining her eyebrows. “I suppose to make me up as Azog you need the most hideous specimens of orc-hood around in order to be properly inspired? How were you planning to do it anyway? Hours of work, I expect. Dozens of skilled spiderling weavers crafting delicate silks into the lightest, yet most realistic masks. Then to be painted with those beautiful brushes, and lifelike scars on top, and”

Her monologue (the first of many, I assure you) was abruptly cut off as Kirstel shoved her face first into a huge bag of white powder. Flour? Probably. Let’s hope it wasn’t finely minced spider eggs. Kirstel would never do that to her own kin.

“There,” the spider announced, somehow managing to hiss a word with no sibilants, gesturing as the spluttering elf emerged white-faced and horrified from the bag of dust. “Behold, the pale orc.”

[Landy]

There was absolutely no reason why Akilah, a solemn sultry southron with a fondness for alliteration, should be present at some ungainly theatre production. Yet here she was, sat in a 'make-up' chair, waiting to be made up to look like a goblin from Moria. She had been told at the door that she was to play the role of a blind goblin by the name of Gargleblaster whose eyes had been ripped out by his master Azog. Why she had to be blind she did not know, but it was probably for the best that she would be blinded from the cringeworthy sights she was about to behold.

A flighty little elf tried to approach her, or was it a dwarf? It was an awfully short elf, and for all she knew it had shaved. Was it a male or female? Akilah could never really tell with elves. Either way it squeaked "Scuse me miss, I must stick the goblin skin lumps to you now."

"you what?"

"yes, yes, to make you look like a goblin" it said wringing its hands nervously. Akilah wasn't sure if she was ready to be covered up in goblin skin, it still smelled pretty fresh. But then, she had been covered in worse.

[DEATH]

Cardboard Durin's Bane waits, cardboard-like, in a storage closet.

An odd place for a Demon of Darkness to reside, although much less so for a cardboard facsimile. One might posit that darkness, away from the approaches of inquisitive interlopers, is a suitable place of rest for a Balrog. In contrast, others might argue that a broom cupboard is no place for even a flimsy mockup of a house-sized Shadow of Darkness. Neither of these stances seep through into Loke's mind as he occupies a space exactly the same size and shape of himself, in a storage closet.

*Is cardboard.

In the dark.*

[Oro]

Sitting on the table among the weapons was a thick, two feet long branch of oak. This was the infamous Oakenshield, popularized by Thorin of Erebor at the Battle that this play was to reenact.

The Oakenshield was a deep brown in color, with two large knots on one end, and a smaller branch shooting off near one end. Oakenshield thought very highly of himself. He was the star of this show. The pivotal moment, the climax itself, relied upon his spectacular acting chops.

He yelled out “EN GARDE YOU FOUL BEAST” and then “THWACK” and “TAKE THAT” followed by a “IS THAT THE BEST YOU GOT?!?”, he was so proud of himself that he kept practicing his lines very seriously.

[Rivvy Elf]

Mordor Troll
Overseeing the Running of Concessions

"Hrrrng!" yelled Mordor Troll as he yelled out the order to begin the selling of concessions. A myriad of trolls all around the Coliseum began moving their concession stands to the proper positions.

"Oooorrooo oooo" they would groan as they stationed themselves and their stands accordingly. A menu was fixed on each of them.

Food


Live Nurnen Land Oysters- Be careful! They might bite you before you bite them!

Raw Rhûn Clams- From the Sea of Rhun, will lick and eat your food before you do if you aren't careful

Pickled Cockle Necklaces- Wear your food in style!

Blackened Chicken- Completely burnt black on the outside. Pink and red on the inside.

Maggoty Bread, Rotten Honey, and Cheese- Laid outside in the elements for THREE... STINKIN'... DAYS! Good source of protein

Nurnen Kettle Corn- Actually tastes like kettle corn

Potatoes with Growing Mushrooms on Top- For Halfling cosplayers

Rotten Tomatoes- With extra wriggling protein on the inside!

Flamin' Eyeball Delight- Raw Eyeballs from unspecified creatures hidden deep in the Misty Mountains. Very spicy


Drinks


Nurnen Natural Water- Contains algae, pollution, and other microorganisms

Orc Draught- Invigorating, perfect for staying awake during the show

Dorwinion Wine- Very strong. Very potent

Cheap Wine- Wine created last week

Gondorion Ale- Smuggled straight from Minas Tirith

Fear Beer- Fermented Maggoty Bread... for THREE... STINKIN'... YEARS!

Foul Nurnen Grog- Mordorian grog from the Sea of Nurnen. Worm cocktail optional

Gil-Galad's Bane- A concoction of black tar, miruvor, Mt. Doom ash, and goat blood. Not for the weak





Orco del Oro will arrive and the Opening Overture/Prompt will start in 24 Hours or so

[Fairy Nuff]

Peachleaf, an ent, backstage

Peachleaf, being hasty for an ent, arrived at the Coliseum some time after many of the other actors had gathered, but before it had actually all started. She had to admit, she had been surprised to be given the opportunity to fulfil her life long dream of acting on stage, as ents were usually just cast as trees, and if given any greater role would deliberate far too long on their lines. She had decided to be as hasty as possible for this performance, but she was still an ent after all.

Ambling into the back stage area she saw a handful of elves (Lintaen, Silarien), men (Akilah)..er cardboard (Loke)..and, er...wood (Oro)? Brown eyes widening she started to wonder what she had let herself in for. Perhaps Mordor was not a good place for her debut after all. Pushing down fears she waved a branchy arm at the assembled actors. "Hello, hroom, does anyone have any tips on how to do make up to make an ent appear like a dwarf?" she said sheepishly. She had not thought this through!

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor

It was wholly unexpected to find herself signing up, albeit after the casting call was over, to put herself on the stage. Clearly she was slightly insane, and it might have been caused by lack of sustenance.

The unholy Hrrrng! which issued forth from the concessions stand was, bizarrely, music to her ears. Ears, she mused, a name she'd earned in the flower house, a play on her name and her profession. Still that was all behind her now - she'd escaped her masters, and they'd never look for her here.

But she had some reservations about the food.

"I'll have a bottle of cheap wine and ... a pickled cockle necklace?" she scrunched up her nose, but no one would ever know behind the mask. "Is it necessary to wear it?"

She loitered, espying out a good place to sit and watch the performance. You never knew, she might get the part, but either way, she was going to have a drink.

[Rivvy Elf]

Mordor Troll

FLASHBACK:

"Now remembah. No... language... other... than... Troll. If ya speak Elvish, Dwarvish, Westrin, Black Speech, I don't care, I'll put a foot up ya [butt]! Your job is to look and sound tough and get as much money as you can, not talk. This ain't a Sindarin wine party, not that any of you know what that means. Know your roles, or my foot... up your [butt]!" Orco told the trolls backstage

CURRENT TIME:

Mordor Troll noticed someone loitering in the stands of the Coliseum. His eyes widened as he stood up, scratching his butt absentmindedly. Believe it or not, Mordor Troll was good at recognizing faces from job descriptions and sketches made by Orco. The troll almost shouted out the actor's name, bidding her to come below the Coliseum to join everyone else backstage. But Mordor Troll kept his mouth shut. Instead, he bumbled all the way over to Ears until he was in hearing range.

"Ruuu roooo yooo, haaughh" Mordor Troll stated, pointing at the Coliseum floor, and then downwards, "Ruaaargh mooo ehhh oooh."

@Lirimaer If you are able to understand the troll (either through knowing Troll the language or inference), please stand at a designated point on stage. Mordor Troll will then activate a trap door where you will suddenly fall on a spider web. Kistrel (Kirstel) the giant spider will then transport you to the backstage area to meet the others. If you do not understand the Troll, well that will be fine as well

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Dimcairien, an elf, playing Balin
Backstage

Dimcairien meandered in to the theatre, wondering why on earth she had agreed to join in this performance. While she certainly enjoyed acting as well as taking in a show, this was not what she had expected. One way or another, she had found herself in the role of Balin the Dwarf. She, a 5'5" ellen was to somehow play a male dwarf. Well, hopefully the makeup artists were up to snuff. As she entered, Dimcairien noticed a handful of other elleths (thank Eru she was not the lone one), cardboard, a man, and a large piece of wood. "This is going to be one interesting evening," she sighed and approached the makeup artist, Kistrel the Spider.

As she walked up, she said, "Balin at your service." Before long, she found herself covered in flour, apparently the amateru (and budgetary) attempt to turn her dark brown hair a shade that resembled white. And then some of her long hair was brought in front of her face and tied in a rough knot under her chin. It could pass for a beard, in terrible lighting. She decided against walking about on her knees to shorten her height. It sounded very painful and she might as well leave as much to the imagination as possible.

Once in makeup, Dimcairien went to find the Mordor Troll selling concessions. If she was to get through this performance, she would need some type of libation. "I'll have a bottle of Dorwinion wine and …" Her eyes quickly scanned the selections, her stomach twisting at the mere thought of the food (was it food?) "and that will be all." Wine in hand, Dimcairen sat down to wait for the curtain call. "The wine better help enhance the performance", she thought, downing a rather large mouthful.

[Moriel]

Shagor, Hepzibah, and Llynrhgllddyr - disposable goblin crew

"YO HO, YO HO, A GOBLIN'S LIFE FOR MEEEE!!" Raucous laughter broke out from the trio of goblins in the makeup room as they finished their song, less occupying chairs than sprawling all over them like a bad imitation of pieta. Other, much less cultured, goblins of Kirstel's employ, skittered about, trying to paint their faces. Shador lashed out at one as it passed with a pot of greasepaint, haranguing, "We're goblins! Playing goblins! Why do you need to paint us up?" Hepzibah flipped her (unusually luscious for a goblin and probably a wig) hair and crooned, "We're practically perfect in every way! My career would be nowhere if not for typecasting, why, everyone knows I'm the best at playing a goblin." Llynrhgllddyr nodded in agreement, kicking an exceptionally small snaga in the chest, sending it head over heels, makeup brushes flying everywhere. "Argyllwrogoch ddânt echddoe llyn!!" He added, emphatically. "What he said." Shagor affirmed, jerking a thumb in Llynrhgllddyr's direction.

From somewhere, came a voice shouting that Mordor Troll had arrived with concessions. "Excellent!!" screeched, Hepzibah, "Craft services!! I was just about to go to the producer and point out that section of my contract." The trio leapt out of their seats and pelted out of the room, to find Mordor Troll. Fortunately for Dimcairien she had moved away with her wine by the time they arrived, for they immediately swarmed the troll, grabbing indiscriminately from his stand. They didn't really care what they ate and drank, so long as they got more than anybody else before the show started.

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor

Really, the cheap wine was pretty good, and it went down a treat, which was good, because after being spoken to gently by the Troll-In-Charge (why were they always so loud?) she'd been feeling a little jittery. Her Troll was rusty, to be fair. He'd said something about trap stages and back doors, and something about standing on an X, then the ominous pointing ... it would be fine, whatever.

I mean, it was all well and good to get the part, but seriously, she'd signed up to be a Dwarf? She really was mad.

She took another surreptitious swig out of the bottle and stepped up onto the stage. The X was right there. She stood on it, glancing around. Was someone going to come and meet her? She popped a pickled cockle into her mouth and peered into the dark wings.

[Rivvy Elf]

Mordor Troll

"Raugh! Raaargh!" yelled Mordor Troll in annoyance. After Dimcairien obtained some Dorwinion Wine, Shagor, Hepzibah, and Llynrhgllddyr hounded him and began grabbing indiscriminately the food and drink. Mordor Troll couldn't even break their femurs because their contract allowed them access to concessions! He knew it was a bad provision, but yet Mordor Troll forgot to remove it out of the contract. Orco was not going to be happy...

Because of being waylaid by the disposable goblin crew, he could not timely approach the lever to the trap door. But luckily for him...

Kistrel (Kirstel) the Spider

There was a small thud that echoed across the backstage caverns, as someone stepped on one of the trap doors. The spider crawled to the top of the ceiling quickly to the trapdoor. She pulled a lever with one of her legs, and Ears' body would fall onto a giant spider web. After that, Kistrel (Kirstel) would grab the person, subdue her with her stinger if she must, and dress her into Thrain the Dwarf. After she was done, she would return to her duties helping everyone else.

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor: THRAIN

"Aaaaarrrrgggh!" The floor gave way beneath her into some freakish nightmare of spider sap. She'd had trouble with this sort of thing before, so the moment she'd seen it she'd instinctively drawn her knives. They had made short work of the web, and she didn't hang around to find out where the maker was. It was only when she was halfway down a long corridor that she realised it hadn't been particularly sticky. Ooops! Maybe the next drop-in wouldn't have such a soft landing?

She took another surreptitious swig out of the bottle and continued on, past where a gaggle of goblins were having a headache with some half-naked Orc who was refusing to wear Elvish silks, past a sobbing creature in the make-up chair refusing to wear a prosthetic nose, into a room that was labelled Coschooms. Alright, so she'd had to ask.

This was obviously some sort of endurance test, since what passed for costumes were mostly in heaps around the large dark room. It didn't smell too good in there, and after a brief search, she figured out why - half the 'costumes' had their former occupants still inside them.

Pulling her niqab down briefly to stuff two pickled cockles into her nostrils, she began looking amongst the bodies and eventually found a large weatherbeaten overcoat. It was woollen, and with a little white powder could maybe look like chainmail... from a distance... in poor lighting... if the audience were smashed. She thought about the stands in the Coliseum. Yeah, it'd work. She grabbed some leather belts, and a badger pelt - she felt sure that'd be useful.

There was no white powder anywhere that she could see, but there was a dead... something. Feeling like a mad genius, she spread the coat on the floor and shook dead skin cells from the whatever it was all over it. It seemed to work! Delighted, she had another slug of wine, and another. Of course, now she needed... Rhûn's randy rabbits, what did Dwarves look like? Big boots, probably. A hat of some kind, An axe or other stupidly big weapon for short folk. That would do. That was probably it.

The weapon was easy enough. She found a metal shield in a corner, an elegant shape with tapered sides, and an old broom in the corner. Removing the broom head and tying on the shield crosswise with some black cord she carried was simple work - of course it looked farcical, but perhaps she wouldn't be on stage for long.

The only hat she could find was a blue hood with a huge point. She consoled herself that none of the audience had ever seen a real Dwarf and would think the affectation only to distinguish herself from the other actors. It was a bit loose though, maybe she needed some hair?

An old brown bear rug lay on the floor, but a few judicial knife thrusts and she was strapping strips around her lower legs, quite pleased with the hefty results she could see in the mirror. Her calves looked massive! She was going to use it to pad out the hood, but remembering the badger pelt, fashioned a hasty wig, giving herself some nice streaks of grey which looked quite distinguished. Looking in the mirror as she put it on, she slapped herself mentally for forgetting the beard, and made herself a nice long triangle of bearskin to tie onto her hood. There now, it covered her niqab nicely.

She pulled on the overcoat and did up the buttons, but then realised she was being too tall, and had to undo them again. Carefully she squatted lower and then did up the coat over her bent knees. It was so tight she couldn't straighten her legs, but she looked great! She slung a belt around the ensemble and grasped her somewhat top-heavy axe with both hands. A pleasing effect, if you squinted.

She waddled out slowly toward the stage with a rolling gait. breathing hard as the stupidity of walking in a permanent squat made itself known. Sauron's tits, this was gonna take some time.

[DEATH]

Trapped in the closet, chapter two.

Well...
Now he's starin' at the wall as if he was staring in the mirror,
They yell, the audience is filin' in
He says "I can't go no further,
I can't clearly see anything at all,
Behind my back, in front of my face, in my home."
Then he said, "Wait a minute now hold on,"
He said, "Cardboard we can work this out."
He said, "Loke don't lose control."
He tried to get him to calm down.
And he waits.

*Is cardboard.

In the dark.*

[Aerlinn]

Orf -- Disposable Dwarf Soldier, actually a dwarf

Short, angry, wielded an axe--Orf was many things. Thinning, a little sparse around the sideburns, light on top, short-whiskered, he was those things too. Okay, okay, he was...no! Aggggh! He couldn't say it! Not to himself, not to the horrid too-many-legged thing he had just bowled into after tripping off a platform, tangling his belt in a rusty pulley, swinging nose-first into a mass of orange, oozing fungi, and crashing his way down the remaining staircase.

Orf rubbed his stinging shins and stared up at Kirstel (Kistrel?) from the floor. "Er."

The spider was juggling barrels of flour, sticking goblins in their ears with her remaining legs, and barely looked at Orf. "I neessdsss a beardsss for the ugly hobbitesss over hersesss. Sssssomething for its headesss. A dwarf they sssssssay, thisss one? Thinking likssses dungbatssss, yesssss."

"HOBBIT? I'll show you hobbit you scum-fangled, spattlebrained lump of legs! You've got elves playing cardboard and cardboard playing goblins and how dare you turn up your nose at a full-blooded dwarf here to bring some realism into this Sauron forsaken--hrmphawoeg wedgsadg glrmmmphwg!"

A long wad of moldy straw was stuffed unceremoniously into Orf's mouth and a goblin began securing the excess to his chin with a fraying piece of rope. A roughly stitched cap of fresh rat skins was plopped on his bare head by another of Kirstel's (Kistrel's?) excessive legs.

"Nexxxsstsss!" hissed the spider and her jeering goblin flunkeys prodded the beleaguered dwarf out of the way.

Orf stumped back towards the stairs, spitting straw and and rat fur. That Foul Nurnen Grog wasn't looking so foul, after all.

[Rivvy Elf]

Orco del Oro

"Ya woke up this mornin', the world turned upside down.." Orco sang between his teeth. One hand was on the reins to the black horses bearing the large carriage labelled 'Waste Management.' His other hand held a hobbit smoking pipe, as del Oro breathed out a bunch of smoke. He was a big-boned even for a large orc. He had hair on his sides and the back of his skull, though it was clear he was balding. Attached at his side was an ax, and at his back was an orc bow.

"Not bad," he commented, puffing out more smoke, as the horse-drawn carriage traveled through the postern gate of the Coliseum into the backstage caverns underneath the Gorgoroth Coliseum. The carriage rattled once again as if somebody was trying to escape, "for the last time, keep quiet in there! I can make a turn to the pits, ya know?"

The horses stopped in the middle of the backstage caverns, Orco hopped out, went to the rear of the carriage, and unlocked the rear. At once, a bunch of wriggling bodies spilled to the cavern floor. Among them was a gagged bound hobbit named Trotter.

"Give me back my pipe you brute!" Trotter yelled after the orc removed his gag.

"What... not even a thank you? Ya got a free ride to your 'resort'," Orco responded, chuckling, punching the hobbit's arm, "now ya get to fulfill your debt instead of being sent to the pits or the slaughterhouse for disposal."

Trotter rubbed his arm and muttered to himself, trying to get his bearings. While Trotter had his back turned, Orco gave a calculating stare at the walking hobbit. Puffed a little bit more of the pipe, and breathed out more smoke.

"Well, time to summon everybody."

ALL- Director Orco del Oro has arrived. Please move your character in the backstage area within the caverns

~~~

...After everyone present has gathered backstage in the caverns

Backstage Caverns

"We're missing people. Do you know unacceptable this is?" del Oro asked the entire group, his face stretched with lines of fury, his teeth bared like an angry hyena, "I spent half of five months working my- [redacted due to excessive cursing]. And wha-what's this about you all eating concessions, and drinking on the job?! I don't care if it's in your contract! That's for us to sell to others. I WAS GOING TO MAKE A BUFFET FOR YOU. How you think we make money huh? Grow it on trees? I oughta [redacted due to horrific descriptions of gory violence]. Have you thought about poor Kistrel (Kirstel)? [redacted due to very sad backstory of Kistrel (Kirstel) and her children]. Now I can't rip your arms out because of your contract, but I can change your job to clean up and transport all these dead bodies around here. You know where we send 'em? [redacted due to descriptions of eldritch horror in slaughterhouses and black markets]."

...and so the ranting went, until finally, "...AND WHO CUT DOWN THAT WEB? Do you know how much time it takes for Kirstel to make webs?! You know what? Get outta my sight, all of you! The tuning for the Preservation Troll Society is underway right now and the overture is within minutes. Prepare to get on stage, everyone. AND WILL SOMEBODY RETRIEVE Dain and Durin's Bane OUTTA DA CLOSET AND PLACE THEM WHERE THEY SHOULD BE?!"

@All- You have unlocked the hidden achievement, "FURIO DEL ORO I" (+20 points to all)

~~~

The board was set, the pieces were... somewhere. While Orco was ranting, the construction trolls moved a makeshift mountainside with a rocky cave near the end of the circular stage, representing Moria. A Stage Cliff was located on the other side, representing where Balin and Bilbo would start at. Mordor Troll walked to the middle of the stage, shouted "HRRRNG!" then walked over to the hidden orchestra pits to conduct the overture played by the Troll Preservation Society.

The trolls immediately began to play a cacophony of tunes that symbolically represented the chaos and helter-skelter of battle (similar to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTjO-PSgnjY). Though some probably wondered whether or not they actually knew how to play instruments.

Mordor Troll walked back to the middle of the stage, shouted "HRRRNG!" and walked off to the stairs that led to the backstage area in the caverns. A few moments later, Thorin's Oaken Shield is thrown and lands in the exact middle of the stage.

[All is quiet on the stage]

PROMPT: BATTLE OF AZANULBIZAR BATTLE PREPARATIONS. PROMPT LASTS FOR 48 HOURS.
@Dimcairien Luiniel: Begin your narration of the flashback battle to Bilbo. You may godmode Bilbo if you wish. At the same time, participate in the pre-battle taunting against the orcs/goblins.

@Aelita Sedryn @Lirimaer @Fairy Nuff @Laintaen @Aerlinn: Initiate pre-battle taunting against the orcs/goblins.

@Oro: you are in the exact middle of the stage. Do what you want.

@Sil @Moriel @Landy: This is an unjustified, random surprise attack from the Dwarves trying to reclaim a kingdom they lost a long long time ago. Respond accordingly.

@Loke Clogwearer Hopefully somebody gets you out of the closet and places you where you should be. You also have unlocked the hidden achievement, "IS CARDBOARD" (+10 points to Loke Clogwearer)

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor: THRAIN

It was going to start, any minute now.

She was sweating like a pig inside all this Dwarf get up, to say nothing of her poor trapped legs, which were going to give up soon. She'd suffered before, but lapdancing had its perks, and she rarely had to dress up like a mountain ape. Slightly dizzy with pain and heat, she'd squinted at the script. Happily, she hadn't got lines, but the one thing she'd latched onto was that she was playing Dwarf royalty and probably needed to be on stage near Thror or Thorin.

Unfortunately she had no idea which of these bearded freaks might have been Thrain's family. No one appeared to be helpfully wearing a crown. It made it all very difficult.

Since folks were filling up the wings, maybe it'd become clearer. She leant sideways, trying to ease up the pain in her legs, and realised it might be helpful to take the damn cockles out of her nose. It was a private operation, what with the beard, hood, badgerpelt-hair and niqab all conspiring against her, but eventually she managed it.

She didn't fancy any more of them anyway, and tossed the whole string of picked cockles behind her.

[Oro]

Thorin’s Oakenshield

The lights were on, the drama was building, and now it was time for action. Thorin’s Oakenshield felt himself land in the center of the stage. The lights hit him, and he felt the immediate sense of dread that came with being in front of the audience. For a moment, he froze. Well, he was inanimate even his thoughts froze. Looking out at the crowd, terror gripped his heat. But then he shook off the fear. You have trained for this your whole life. Just do it! And his nerves steeled and he began the speech he had begun practicing.

“This day is call’d the feat of Crispian. Ahem.”

His throat was very dry, maybe that was because he was a branch. He coughed, clearing it, then continued,

“He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.”.

He felt himself hitting a groove. Each and every line he delivered with poise and finesse. This was his true calling, and with every gaining second his voice grew and strengthened. Gone was the fear, and he was not Henry V. Only fumbling a few of the lines, He built upon the power and emotion of each moment until he hit his crescendo.

“And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall by my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shell think themselves accursed they were not here
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s Day.”
(OOC: all credit to Sir William Shakespeare, Henry V)

The speech ended, the moment successful and adrenaline pushed through every one of Oakenshield’s veins. He wanted more. Should he start another speech? He looked out at the audience, had he amazed them into silence? Wow, what a success. He beamed with pride, every inch of bark shimmering in the very warm stage lights.

[DEATH]

“There you are.”

A stage hand, exasperated and a little dejected, finally locates the cardboard cutout of Durin’s Bane, not a moment too soon. The bustle of audience movement, casual chatter, the crunching of ill-advised and poorly considered snacks, the hideous cacophony of badly tuned and even more badly played instruments in the Orc Estra Pit all contribute to an almost nausea-inducing experience for the casual observer and an actual nausea-inducing experience it seems, for more than one cast member.

Punctuating the racket, Stage Hand #7 (the name given him by his thespian parents; he is one of five stage hands employed for this production) can hear the admonitions of Master del Oro to the cast - a sure sign that if he can’t produce a Durin’s Bane and have it placed correctly before the show begins he’ll once again be sipping his meals through a straw. Also he'll be in trouble.

“This is the fourth different storage closet I’ve found you in this week. If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d grown sentient and were doing this yourself. But of course you’re not; you’re just a shabbily treated slice of thickened paper, thrown in whichever space is handy at the time. Can nobody store this proppily stored prop properly? Speaking of which, best get you moved now or I’m proper #@*%ed and the Master will have my teeth on a necklace.”

Stage Hand #7 hastily grabs Loke and half-carries, half-drags him through the cavern tunnels up to the stage area. Along the way he accidentally (perhaps accidentally on-purpose, nobody will ever know) whacks the prop into the wall while rounding a corner, adding yet another fold line to the old prop’s ever-increasing collection.

Reaching the stage, he shuffles his inanimate charge over to stand at the rear and slightly to the left of the makeshift mountainside, within full view of the audience but quite clearly conveying an “inside the cave” kind of vibe, and Loke does what he knows best.

*Is cardboard.

On the stage.*

(OOC: The "IS CARDBOARD" action is bolded to show that this hidden achievement has now been unlocked. Goals.)

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor: THRAIN

Oh! OH! That was Thorin's Oakenshield!

It was almost time. Time to shine!

"Break a leg!" squawked some freakish loser who was going to die, slapping her on the shoulder.

She grunted a threat in her own tongue, but the psycho evidently thought she'd said 'thanks' and clapped her heartily on the back this time.

She lurched forward a couple of steps onto the stage, barely having grasped the stage directions. The bright lights of the stage darkened the audience, which was a blessing and a curse both.

What had the instructions been? Taunt the goblins? Seemed a little juvenile, but she had just the thing from one of the old Easterling tomes for children by that virulent anti-orc protestor, Juliadon Aldson. Just a little adaptation ...

She lifted her axe to a menacing angle and rattled it fiercely.

And she shouted, "Down with dragons!" And she shouted, "Down with orcs!" And she shouted, "Down with mountain theft and all your boastful talk!"

[Laintaen]

“Dworc” the Dwarf-Orc - Backstage

Make-up, costuming, pre-show snacks. All the makings of a proper stage production. Except this was Mordor so nothing was proper.

Dworc the Dwarf-Orc dodged the makeup-spider (and the most unsavoury looking “edibles”), and tried to find a good spot for a Dwarf-Orc to hang out until called to do something more ridiculous than signing up for this nonsense in the first place. A tree wandered past (Peachleaf), wondering how to go about looking like a Dwarf. “It’s all in the mud,” she insisted, flinging her mud-covered arms around. “Everyone knows that’s what Dwarves look like when they spring out of holes in the ground.” When Peachleaf turned her back, Dworc quickly snapped off one of her branches to use as a weapon on stage.

While she was fairly certain of it wasn’t one of the Ent’s arms, the branch still gave her the finger.

With a crash of wheels, the director arrived and (after dressing down that would have made Sauron blush) ordered everyone to battle stations. Dworc hadn’t made it to costume or makeup, but supposed her mud covering was doing a good enough job, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to notice the extra muddy footprints she left all over the place. Not in this neighbourhood.

Other actors, attired as Dwarves to varying degrees of success, and Dworc fell in line behind the one she supposed was Thrain (Ears). The music started, the “curtain” rose, and the action began.

“Dworc” the Dwarf-Orc - Onstage

Remembering at the last moment, that there had never been a 5”8 Dwarf, Dworc shuffled onto the stage on her knees. She raised her Ent branch in one hand and shook her fist at the opposing Orc army. The branch helpfully turned it’s one-fingered salute to their new target.

“Rar!” she cried. “Dwalin the Dworc is here to dwive you dweaded dwongos to your dweaths!”

[Silky Gooseness]

Silarien, an Elf, playing Azog, the Pale Orc

Silarien had never been readier. Coated in a pale powder which she chose to believe was flour, her eyes reddened because of ...too much flour, and her muscles popping out with ... too much flour, and a nervous, floury energy gripping her... she waited, taut with tension, offstage, for her entrance...

“‘Ere, are you all right, miss?” asked one of the stage goblins nervously. “Only, you see, you’re making the floor vibrate with all that bouncing up and down.”

“I’M GETTING INTO CHARACTER,” Silarien whisper-hissed urgently at him. By Elbereth, she was surrounded by IDIOTS.

The curtain was falling... now was her chance to take the stage...

The Scene: Moria. Azog gazes out upon his kingdom.

This kingdom which I long have claimed my own,
These pillared halls and caverns hewn of stone -
Hard-won in battle, and now ours at last
A place which all my goblin-folk call home.
At last the pestilence of dwarves has gone:
No more than rats who burrow in their holes
but leave a place for better folk to dwell;
Those scurvy-bearded, stubby, stubborn oafs,
Obsessed by gold and digging in the ground:
Now driven out to wander in the wilds
Whilst we the orcs enjoy our spoils of war.

But wait! What light on yonder axe-head breaks?
It is a gleam familiar to me,
Which strikes a memory of battles fought
And won, of bloody glory, sword and shield,
The orcish strength that forced the Dwarves to yield...

So then, humiliated, did they march
And shewed their coward backs upon this realm,
Their axes chipped, their beards ripped in their grief
Whilst Azog and his army claimed the prize.

But could it be, the remnants of that race
Recalling that great hall where once they dwelt,
The heaps of mithril, silver, gold and gems
Now treasures held by goblin hands alone
Have sparked a flame in their most wretched breasts
And, dreaming of a vengeance hardly won
Have girded up their loins and gone to war?

Such wretched villainy shall not be borne!
The land hath long forgotten Longbeard’s clans,
The earth lain quiet from their delving deep.
This mountain and this realm is now mine own
And no short-statured scamps shall steal from me!
Should Dúrin’s folk now dare to challenge me
Then Moria will but their grave-ground be.

[Fairy Nuff]

[b]Peachleaf, an ent playing a dwarf: Thorin[/b]

Peachleaf had started walking towards the stage as soon as directed but still not quick enough, and the other actors were (mostly) already there when she arrived. She was just getting into position when she felt a pinch and something made a snapping noise behind her. "Ouch" she said, and turned slowly to see what had happened but could only see the retreating figure of Dworc. She rubbed the sore spot and assumed some ash had fallen on her, after all Mordor was full of volcanoes and she would be sensitive to such things.

Arriving on the stage she was quite surprised to see the lump of wood in prime position - so finally an ent had made it to the stage, only to be upstaged by a piece of wood. "Hroom, hroom" she grumbled and looked for somewhere to stand where she could be seen by the whole audience. What was she doing in this scene again? Oh yes, taunting goblins. She hadn't done much taunting in Fangorn, it was usually something done by hastier species, but she was a hasty ent, so perhaps she could follow their example. What did passing travellers say when they taunted...she tried to remember.

Taking a deep breath, and with a great deal of volume as she was not small, she yelled "Yahh, boo, sucks to be you! Yahh, boo, sucks to be you. Your mum smells like poo!" at the assembled orc and goblin characters. She felt rather pleased with herself, that was her first time taunting!

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Dimcairien, an elf, playing Balin

As she sipped her wine, Dimcairien watched as chaos began to ensue around her. She saw the individual dressed as Thrain arrive rather suddenly and covered in what looked like spider web residue. There were lots of random little creatures (or big creatures masquerading as little creatures) running about, goblins, dwarves, or something else entirely, she could not tell. Her quiet drinking was rudely interrupted by the arrival of the director who said something about missing people and drinking on the job. "Who, me?" asked Dimcairien, her words slightly slurred. My, that Dorwinion wine was stronger than she had recalled!

Things gradually got more and more chaotic as everyone entered into character. Elves, dwarves, and humans dressed as dwarves and orcs began shouting and waving weapons. And she swore she heard the giant oaken beam reciting poetry. Not to mention the deafening clanging of a multitude of trolls playing instruments. Or were they instruments? Dimcairien was certain there was something that sounded like bodily noises in there. But then, they were trolls after all. "Thank the Valor for strong drink," she muttered, knowing that there was no way she'd manage to stay sane and sober at the same time.

She might as well get in on the action and taunting. "Dago in yrch!" she shouted, slipping back into her native elvish, before realising that such language choice might not be the smartest in Mordor. "Orcs are dumb!" she shouted again.

At last, the stage was set and the actor playing Bilbo was on the stage. Dimcairien carefully placed the bottle of wine next to her seat, though it took two or three tries to actually set it down because the stupid floor kept moving. She slowly stood up and stumbled on to the stage. Half-way across, she realised that she was actually supposed to be a dwarf and landed on her knees in a most ungraceful manner that was somewhere between a fall and a somersault. From this position she continued to move towards Bilbo and start the play.

"Hey everyone!" she shouted, flinging her arms up over her head. "Goblins, trolls, half-eaten maggots, and whoever else is here, welcome to the show!"

Dimcairien then turned to Bilbo, threw and arm around his shoulder, and said her line, "Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."

[Rivvy Elf]

Orco del Oro

"Where's Thror?" Orco asked, his hands in his pockets while smoking a hobbit pipe. After waiting for another minute, he pulled his hands out and repeatedly shook his head, "I can't wait no longer, time to get the replacement actor!" With that, he went towards the pile of bodies that fell from his carriage. He unbound and unhooked one of them, revealing a white-bearded elderly dwarf who's eyes darted around frantically.

"Gold.... gold," Raleigh the Dwarf uttered, "gold... gold?" at once he ran towards the dressing room, and so Kistrel (Kirstel) and the others dressed him up to be the replacement actor for Thror.

"Pits really did a numbah on him," del Oro muttered.

~~~

Raleigh the Dwarf playing as Replacement Actor for Thror

A person dressed in all polished brass armor with a brass crown and a brass axe, walked onto the stage. On one of his brass-chain gloves there one of his fingers bore Thror's Ring, one of the dwarven rings of power. He marched his brass boots to the front of the dwarven "army." After every step he walked, flakes of brass remained on each bootprint

[Thror]: Gold! (he points at Balin) Gold! (he points at Thrain) G-gold?! (he points at Thorin) (Then Thror beats his breast with a resounding) GOLLLLLLLLLLLLD!

Thror turns around and looks ahead at Azog. He sees beyond, squinting, at the shadow of Durin's Bane. A light of realization sparks both eyes of Thror as tears began forming on his eyes.

[Thror]: (whispers)... gold (shakes his head and walks back to the Dwarven Army to Thrain)

Thror then takes off Thror's Ring.

[Thror]: Gold... (gives Thror's Ring to Thrain) Gold... (gives Erebor map with key to Thorin)

Then without warning, Thror turns around and sprints towards Azog and the goblins.

[Thror]: GOLLLLLLLLLD! (Thror charges, but as he makes it midway across the stage, he promptly trips on Oakenshield)

[Thror]: G-gah-goo-gall-gyegh-ghoul-gwah-gyah! (he grunts as he falls and rolls all the way towards Azog's feet)

~~~

Mordor Troll

"Roooooo," groaned Mordor Troll for the second time as he looked at Thror trip over Oakenshield. The first time he groaned was when Balin broke the fourth wall and welcomed everyone to the show. But overall, it was a very entertaining show so far. Oakenshield was excellent and very moving, even though Mordor Troll did not really know why. Someone placed Durin's Bane in the correct place. Thrain, Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin each provided humorous insults. Azog made Mordor Troll roar with approval, shaking his fists in the air and clapping. The troll did not want to throw anything at anyone so far.

~~~
Because I do not see any audience that has revealed themselves so far (other than my troll), and because Mordor Troll was overall satisfied, for prompt 1 we're temporarily skipping the rotten tomato mini-game. Now we will move on to Prompt 2!

Prompt 2: THE DEATH OF THROR, PROMPT LASTS FOR 72 HOURS

@Sil: Behead Thror. You unlocked the hidden achievement, "SHAKESBEARD (+10 Individual Points)."
@Lirimaer: You see Thror's death. Go 'mad with grief,' separate yourself from the pack, and head towards Durin's Bane. You unlocked the hidden achievement, "PROTESTER (+10 Individual Points)."
@Dimcairien Luiniel: Narrate while fighting. Godmode Bilbo if you wish. You unlocked the hidden achievements, "FOURTH-WALL BREAKER (+10 Individual Points)" and "PROTESTER (+10 Individual points)."
@KingODuckingham: Feel free to join in as Dain.
@Fairy Nuff: React to Thror's death
@Aerlinn @Laintaen @Moriel @Landy @Oro @Loke Clogwearer: Do what you want :)

Laintaen- you unlocked the hidden achievements, "PROTESTER (+10 Individual points)" and "SLEIGHT OF HAND (+10 Individual Points)"
Fairy Nuff- you unlocked the hidden achievement, "PROTESTER (+10 Individual points)"
Loke Clogwater- you unlocked the hidden achievement, "DURIN'S BANE'S HELPER (+10 individual points)"
Oro- you unlocked the hidden achievement, "SHAKESBEARD (+10 Individual Points)."

[Moriel]

Shagor, Hepzibah, and Llynrhgllddyr - disposable goblin crew

The troublesome trio scampered backstage at the summons of del Oro, who then proceeded to give an entirely pointless speech about the people who weren’t there, to the people who were there. Like that was going to be effective? Hepzibah in particular rolled her eyes throughout this spiel- she, of course, was a consummate professional and didn’t need to hear any of it. Fortunately, places was called and the trio scampered (this seems to be their most common mode of communal movement) to their entrance backstage. Shagor peeked out at the audience, before being pulled back by Llynrhgllddyr. “Allrhûgrhdd!” the goblin chided his fellow, and Hepzibah nodded sternly at Shagor. “He’s right, you know! Peeking like that is very amateurish.” “Ah shuddup,” Shagor replied lazily, “none of them out there are paying attention to the sightlines!”

At last, the show had begun! And somehow, the Oakenshield was delivering a speech. A… surprisingly stirring speech, actually, and Hepzibah shoved Shagor out of the way so she could peek. “Is it wrong that I find that attractive?” she hissed. The two male goblins looked at each other, and nodded firmly. Then the elf (Silarien) playing Azog stepped onstage, and Hepzibah squealed, “Oooh! That’s our cue!!” Roaring like the barbaric orcs they were supposed to be playing, the trio pounded onstage in the elf’s wake, waving their wooden stage swords. They halted and stared admiringly at “Azog” delivered his speech, not understanding a word of it (though Hepzibah would insist that she did). Other actors playing dwarves began to yell out insults, and the troublesome trio took their cue from them. “Dwarves smell like tark piss!” “Your mother’s beard was so sparse, you could count her teeth!” “If Dúrin’s Bane kept pets, they wouldn’t be you!” "Yahh, go eat a vegetable!!”

[Silky Gooseness]

Rakhash, disposable goblin

Rakhash was, in actual fact, a disposable goblin, so there was no need for him to go to Dress and Make Up, or prepare in any way whatsoever. Much to the disappointment of his friends (nonexistent) and his family (mostly deceased, being equally disposable), he was going to just be Entirely Himself.

He bustled up importantly behind Ed, Shenzai and Banzai... or was it Shagor, Hepzibah and Llanfairpyrhwtjwuihfhll, and began vigorously rustling his Pom-poms, lovingly created from the braids of slain warriors. Or at least, warriors who had been sound asleep when Rakhash had stolen their braids.

“Let’s get some proper rhythm behind this taunting,” he chirped encouragingly, and began to shake the Pom-poms and dance an offensive dance which included much wriggling and some minor exposure of his buttocks.

-Disposable Goblin: audience participation and antiphonal response encouraged-

I don’t know but I’ve been told
Dwarves aren’t good at hoarding gold

If they try to come and fight
We will shave their beards tonight

Sound off! ONE, TWO
I can’t hear you! THREE, FOUR

Though you think you are fantastic
Your noses look like melted plastic
And since it’s coming from an orc
You know this is real beauty talk

Give us an A!
Give us a Z!
Give us an O!
Give us a G!

AZOOOOOOOOOG

[KingODuckingham]

Ducky, a wizard, playing Dain, a dwarf

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts..."

Ducky's opining was cut off by a snarling stagehand.

"Yeah, yeah, that's beautiful, but you missed your entrance, pinhead!" the snaga shrieked.

Ducky looked at him blankly. "I was trying to explain to you my life philosophy and my reason for being in Mordor, good fellow. Are you trying to say I've wasted my life? Because that would be terribly rude!"

"You have wasted your life," the little goblin replied, "but also, you missed your entrance! Get on stage! A man in his time plays many parts, but right now you're playing Dain!" The stagehand spits disapprovingly at having to speak such a wretched name.

"Wait, wait, wait." Ducky insisted. "If I'm to play the part of Dain, there's so much I need to know to do the job properly! What is my motivation in the scene? What is my backstory? Do I carry any previous injuries, physical or emotional? What am I supposed to be feeling, overtly and deep in the recesses of my heart? Am I best described as a sympathetic character? An antihero? A villainous reprobate? A cheeky trickster with a heart of gold, what?"

"Mostly you just stand in the background looking sad because Thor's dead, now just get out there." the stagehand said brusquely. "You're not even technically named in the script but your face is there for the fanservice." He shoved Ducky, who stumbled forward, grabbing the axe prop that was handed to him as he went. He looked left and right nervously, muttering under his breath,

"He said I've been wasting my life! He can't say that. He doesn't know me! Why, when I consider how my light is spent..."

Ducky trailed off, realizing as he considered the choices that had brought him to this stage that maybe the orc had a point. The only immediate solution Ducky could see, though, was to deliver the performance of a lifetime. He put his heart and soul into an improvised line:

"Have a nice TRIP, Thror! See you next FALL!"

Ducky chortled, dusting his hands in satisfaction, then remembered what the goblin had said, and pulled a long face. Sad, we're supposed to be sad...

[Silky Gooseness]

Silarien, an Elf, playing Azog, the Pale Orc

Spotlight on AZOG as THROR rolls before him. AZOG flexes his muscles. Some powder falls off them and they are revealed to be linen bags used as padding.

AZOG

What is this vision that I see before me?
A shadow of the noble dwarf that was;
The once proud Thror brought low: and by what cause?
A humble piece of wood, an oaken log.

AZOG examines THROR at his feet.

It was not wood alone that brought thee here:
But pride hath eaten up thy bloated mind
And filled thee with the hollow lust for gold.
More precious than thy life? I deem it so:
Thy blood is common, thinner thus by far
Than that of thy great forefathers, I ween.

A shame and stain upon their names thou art:
So now a service to dwarfkind I make
To strike thee from their tree and cleave apart
thy flesh: thy head I’ll set upon a stake.

AZOG draws his sword. He lifts the tip of THROR’s chin with the blade.

And now a final lesson shalt thou learn:
Those fools that come to Moria shall burn.

AZOG strikes off THROR’s head. He etches his own name in runes across THROR’s forehead.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Dimcairien, an elf, playing Balin

As Dimcairien threw her arm around Bilbo, a chaotic mess flung itself across the stage. All the disposable goblins and dwarves where shouting curses at each other and causing general mayhem, with a lot of impromptu poetry thrown inn. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the (clearly unwilling) actor playing Thror trip and saw Sil disguised as Azag approach and chop of Thror's head, all while reciting poetry. Dimcairien let out a most undignied giggle as she tried to recall what she was supposed to be doing. Her brain was starting to get very fuzzy from all of the wine.

Dimcairien swung Bilbo around as she continued with her next line, "Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King."

As she said it, she leapt, as gracefully as a drunken elf could, which was not graceful in the least, into the fray of dwarves and goblins and inanimate? objects. Suddenly realising that she hadn't procured a weapon backstage, she quickly glanced around the theatre, and spying a nearby torch, waltzed over and grabbed it. Dimcairien as Balin began to wildly swing the torch around, in an attempt to reinanct part of the battle, nearly incinerating a few of the disposable goblins, Shagor, Hepzibah, and Llynrhgllddyr. A nervous Bilbo quickly took a step back away from the insanity.

As she continued to wield her torch, Dimcairien said, "Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us." With that, she skipped away from Bilbo towards center stage and promptly tripped over the Oakenshield. She fell flat on her face and the torch went flying off towards stage left.

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor: THRAIN

The action on stage was hard to parse for someone who'd read the script, so the Dark Lord only knew what the audience was making of the play. Of course, she might have read the script, but that was what? half an hour ago now? She'd been in agony for that long, and it was beginning to translate into honed anger. She had a vague recollection that her big moment was tied to a Dwarf king, and whoa!

There was a Dwarf King, and then, suddenly, he was a head shorter.

The elven player, Silarien, obviously relished her role, for that was no pulled strike - a bloodied head rolled across the stage and stopped at her feet.

She bent forward, her thighs protesting as she squatted further down to look at the dripping object. She rolled it over and lifted Thror's head.

Horrifically, it blinked at her. Melkor's mucky mancave, she nearly dropped the head in shock. How sharp was that sword?

"I am your father," the head intoned. Clearly, Raleigh was a method actor.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo!!!!" the roar came up from somewhere inside her, and she dropped to her knees to betoken overwhelming grief.

This was a mistake, as it turned out, because then she couldn't get up again and with her overcoat pulling her forward, she almost faceplanted into the stage. Luckily, she'd been restrained so much in her life it didn't really slow her down too much, and frankly it was nice to give her thighs some relief.

She could hear the narration by the elf playing Balin - ah yes, she had to go mad ... well, let's get crazy!

Thrain kissed his father's bloodied head - yes, it definitely wasn't her - and reverently placed it to one side; audience-side obviously, they needed to see her gifted protrayal of this hairy little mannikin. Then, axe in hand, she crab-crawled across the stage, screaming blue murder, swinging the axe round people's knees dangerously, and - critically - losing herself in her character's madness. Anyone whose legs looked remotely evil were swung at, although they all seemed to be able to hop away, adding to her ire.

Eventually, she crashed into something two-dimensional, but her rage was in full flow by that point and her makeshift axe struck out at the shadowy legs of Durin's Bane, her voice calling out deep and resonant:

"Baruk Khazâd, azanrakhâs-u-Nargûn!"

[Aerlinn]

Orf -- Disposable Dwarf Soldier, actually a dwarf

Orf rushed past the pit orchestra and onto the stage panting and blowing like a set of proper dwarven bellows. An axe, definitely not a proper dwarven one, swung wildly from his left hand and the right sloshed grog on the feet of everyone around him. Pieces of wood were declaiming poetry, the troll wouldn't shut up, and where had all these blasted elves come from! As if a sack of flour in the face could fool him! Pointy-eared ninnies!

The balding dwarf stuck the dripping goblet under one arm and tried to tuck the pitted axe between his ear and shoulder. Where were his notes? He ransacked his pockets, carelessly tossing aside bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, mint humbugs, tea-bags...finally! His stage directions.

[TAUNT] it said. Well, that wasn't so bad.

"You scurvy, scummy, 'scallion!" he yelled at the actor closest to him. Wait, that was one of the other dwarves. He tried again.

"Aphid-infested pile of firewood! You rotting bunch of twigs!" Oh, they had got to be kidding him. The talking tree was a dwarf too!?

Orf gave up on trying to interpret the blocking and threw his head backwards. "Yeh looting lardballs! he roared at Mordor's ash-strewn sky. "Yeh pillaging piddleheads! Yeh ransacking rat livers! This dwarf will see you into a maggot-infested mud pit of a grave, yeh--"

He trailed off, suddenly aware that the yelling seemed to have died down. A recently separated head was rolling across the stage. Well, if he had done his part, then...Orf retrieved the goblet from his armpit and began to examine it carefully for any remnants of grog.

[Laintaen]

Dwalin, played by Dworc the Dwarf-Orc
Onstage

What under Arda was going on here? Dworc was so busy dodging every imaginable projectile, she could barely remember her cues. Flying torches, a severed head, a tiny Human/Dwarf/Axe amalgamation and every second actor tripping over the piece of wood in the centre of the stage; she was getting quite nimble leaping out of the way on her knees. She hoped the next Middle Earth-wide production was The Nutcracker in the Shire. She was going to be perfect for that.

Everyone seemed to have a different interpretation of what constituted “acting”. There was the over acting of Azog, the underacting of Dain. Thrain didn’t seem to be acting at all, having completely become her character, while the disposable Orcs also didn’t seem to be acting either.

A real Dwarf ran in late and immediately starting yelling. “I see my disguise has confused you” she said triumphantly, discretely pocketing the humbugs he had dropped – who knew this production would provide such opportunities for thievery. “I am an Orc playing a Dwarf. A Dworc, if you will.” And then, because he insulted Peachleaf who had so generously “provided” her with a branch, she nicked his tea bags too.

She turned her back on Orf, letting him return to his goal of overtaking Balin as the drunkest actor on the stage, and reassess what she needed to do. Anything she liked, apparently, but since the one supposed to be her King was dead, she supposed anger was appropriate.

“I’ll dwopkick you for such a dwastic act,” she cried, waving her branch. “I’ll dwown you in dwoppings! Dwalin the Dworc has spoken!”

[DEATH]

What happens when a Makeshift Irresistable Force meets a Makeshift Immovable Object?

Chaos all around. Some intended, a storyline mechanic selling the concept of a great, fierce battle. Some clearly unintentional, the result of nerves, clumsiness, or a misguided reliance on the liquor to soothe the aforementioned afflictions. Some actual blood appears to have been spilt. It is difficult to know if this was intentional or accidental. To be honest it is difficult to know if anything happening has been intentional or accidental.

Loke is unmoved as the action unfolds before him. Possibly by choice, possibly due to inherent restrictions imposed by his nature. Only he knows (well ... he and anyone with a basic understanding of cardboard). Through the confusion a solitary figure half-crawls, half-stumbles across the stage in Loke's direction. It is Thrain, of that the audience can be sure. Nobody has ever stepped into the role with such authenticity. At least not in living memory. Definitely not before on this stage. Almost certainly not in any performance of this particular work in the past week. It is without doubt the most convincing portrayal of Thrain by an Easterling in a recreation of the Battle of Azanulbizar that any of the audience have seen tonight.

WHACK!

The Thrain-like creature hacks at The Cardboard Cutout That Is Durin's Bane at about knee-height? Loke remains motionless as the makeshift Irresistable Force (Thrain's axe) meets the makeshift Immovable Object (himself).

Well ... motionless isn't entirely accurate. Unless by motionless you mean quite wobbly. A number of falls, blows, bends and general carelessness of handling over the years has, it must be said, had a somewhat negative influence on Loke's structural integrity. It has made him wobbly. Loke would have attempted to right himself, to avoid falling - if cardboard could do such a thing. It can't. The Cardboard Cutout That Is Durin's Bane slowly topples and falls face first on top of Thrain. And Loke...

*Is Cardboard.

On the Floor.*

[Fairy Nuff]

Peachleaf, an Ent, playing Thorin

Peachleaf was posturing and posing in an attempt to get the audience to notice her in her big debut, and determined not to let that lump of wood steal the show. Too late, she saw Thror hurtle across the stage, connect with the Oakenshield and roll over and over with a cry of "G-gah-goo-gall-gyegh-ghoul-gwah-gyah!" shortly after to be beheaded by Azog. Peachleaf paused mid-pose, brown eyes wide as she was somewhat unaware of where they were on the story, then slowly she came to the realisation that the Oakenshield had once again upstaged her.

She shuffled over to where Thror lay and nudged him with a branch. "Err, are you dead". There was no reply, mostly because his head was no longer attached to the body. Peachleaf took a moment to think about what Thorin would do in this situation....then:

"No, Thror, not you!" she cried, throwing a branch dramatically across her forehead. "Taken too soon, cut down in your prime, this cruel, cruel world!" she yelled melodramatically. Sweeping across the stage with her branch still across her forehead and her eyes closed in dramatic agony, and not seeing where her feet are going she steps onto the cardboard cut out of Durin's Bane, which causes her to slip. Still in meldodrama mode Peachleaf cannot help but yell "Timberrrrrr" as she descends from vertical to horizontal and slams into the stage.

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor: THRAIN

When the cardboard cut-out of Durin's Bane had landed on her, she'd decided to lie still ... it wasn't clear from the script what was going to happen, but as long as that Elf with the sword didn't get involved, she would be fine. Thrain would be fine. Maybe it was some sort of weird balrog thing, and they lay on you and smothered you in darkness, or choked you to death with their smoke or something. She kept a wary eye open for any fool stupid enough to send a smoking grenade her way, but kept still.

The action was still happening onstage, and it was all about Thror and his overacting - his death. The walking tree playing Thorin was reaching for the high notes too, so she supposed it ran in the family. Bloody dramatic dwarves. It was all going well until the air was squeezed out of her lungs by the sudden application of a great weight pressing down on her from above - was Durin's Bane enchanted somehow? Was this the end? She heaved mightily and the pressure eased, followed by the sound of the Ent yelling, "Timberrrr!" and then there was a thud of massive proportions and everything on the stage bounced with the force of it.

She lay on the stage, breathing hard, the cardboard cut-out of Durin's Bane laying on top of her, effectively hiding her from the audience. Son of a warg, how long was this scene?

[Rivvy Elf]

Orco del Oro

"Hehehe," Orco chuckled, as he grabbed more Nurnen Kettle Corn to munch. He was in a hidden elevated area in the backstage caverns, as Kistrel (Kirstel) continued working on the broken spider web. He was greatly amused at Dain's dark humorous pun. But there were times were del Oro leaned forward, listening to Azog's grandiose speech and digesting each word. Once Thror was beheaded, the director clapped his hands in applause, particularly with the aftertouch of tattooing the head with Azog's name.

"Is it Shakesbeard, or is it Shakesbeard?" Orco commented. Kistrel in the distance rubbed her mandibles.

"Yeah sure, you can have the corpse," del Orco responded. Soon after, Thrain went insane, and for a moment Orco thought the actor was actually Thrain and went completely insane, "poor Thrain," he commented. Then promptly del Orco barked in laughter as Balin tripped on Oakenshield and threw a torch straight into the Mordor thorn shrubberies and trees, causing an immediate fire. The bark of laughter turned uproarious as Cardboard Durin's Bane fell on top of Thrain, defeating the dwarf. Some soldiers were still taunting, which caused the director to facepalm. But once he heard through the chaos Dwalin's line, the director continued his fit of laughter.

"You hear that Kistrel (Kirstel)? 'I'll dwown you in dwoppings!' Ha!" del Orco exclaimed. The laughter only grew louder as Thorin rushed into Moria and caused a mini-earthquake by falling down, being 'tripped' by Durin's Bane, "oh, I love this! This is the best idea I've had yet!"

~~~
Mordor Troll

This was the worst stage production since The Merry Cats of Beruthiel Mordor Troll thought as he groaned. Thorin was off in Moria, Bilbo was just awkwardly in the middle of the battle, and everything was going to crazy for the poor troll to comprehend. Now there was an actual fire in the Coliseum!

"Hrooooo..." moaned Mordor Troll, as he prepared to get giant buckets of water to douse the flames.

~~~

Because I do not see any audience that has revealed themselves so far (other than my troll), and because Mordor Troll is busy trying to put out the fire, for prompt 2 we're temporarily skipping the rotten tomato mini-game. Now we will move on to Prompt 3!

Prompt 3: [BLANK] OAKENSHIELD. PROMPT LASTS FOR 72 HOURS



@Sil: You are now the target of various dwarves looking to 'disarm' you and become the new symbolic dwarf leader. Feel free to comment on the dwarven competition to become [BLANK] Oakenshield. You unlocked the achievements "MURDERER (+20 individual points)," "PROTESTER (+10 individual points)," and "CASUS BELLI (+10 points)."

@Lirimaer Do what you want except for attacking Azog. You unlocked the achievements "WRONG FRANCHISE (+10)" and "DEFEATED BY CARDBOARD (+10 points)."

@Dimcairien Luiniel You're in a competition to become the wielder of Oakenshield with Dwalin, Thorin, and Dain. Do this while narrating. I will arbitrarily judge your posts and determine whether or not you become Balin Oakenshield. Oro has the power to override my decision and directly choose you, however. You unlocked the achievements "HAVE A NICE TRIP (+10 points)" and "ACCIDENTAL FIRE (+10 points)."

@KingODuckingham You're in a competition to become the wielder of Oakenshield with Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin. I will arbitrarily judge your posts and determine whether or not you become Dain Oakenshield. Oro has the power to override my decision and directly choose you, however. You unlocked the achievement "NICE PUN (+10 points)" and "SHAKESBEARD (+10 points)."

@Fairy Nuff You're in a competition to become the wielder of Oakenshield with Dwalin, Balin, and Dain. I will arbitrarily judge your posts and determine whether or not you become Thorin Oakenshield. Oro has the power to override my decision and directly choose you, however. You unlocked the achievements "DEFEATED BY CARDBOARD (+10 points)" and "NICE PUN (+10 points)."

@Aerlinn You're in the midst of a battle. Do what you want :) You unlocked "PROTESTER (+10 points)" and "DRINKING DURING THE BATTLE (+10 points)."

@Laintaen You're in a competition to become the wielder of Oakenshield with Balin, Dain, and Thorin. I will arbitrarily judge your posts and determine whether or not you become Dwalin Oakenshield. Oro has the power to override my decision and directly choose you, however. You unlocked the achievements "A DWORC, IF YOU WILL (+10 points)" and "A MEMORABLE DWALIN (+20 points)."

@Moriel You're in the midst of a battle. Do what you want :) You unlocked "PROTESTER (+10 points)."

@Loke Clogwearer Do what you want :) You have unlocked "THRAIN'S BANE (+10 points)," and "THORIN'S NUISANCE (+20 points)."

@Oro You have the power to override my judgement and choose who earns the title "Oakenshield."

@Landy You're in the midst of a battle. Do what you want :)

[KingODuckingham]

Ducky as Dain

It all clicked into place for Ducky as Thror's head clicked (or whatever) out of place. He knew what Dain would do. He lifted his axe and began to declaim to his fellow dwarves:

"A spectre is haunting Khazad-Dum--and I'm not talking about Thror's recently produced spiritus ex corpore. I'm talking about freedom, my fellow dwarves. All the powers of Middle Earth have entered into a holy battle to exorcise this spectre: Azog and Thror, Thrain and Durin's Bane."

Ducky began to gesticulate wildly.

"The history of all Middle Earth is the history of dwarven class struggles. The markets of Lake-Town ever growing, the demand for mithril ever rising. Even the seven rings no longer sufficed!"

Ducky's eyes bulged, his pitch grew fevered.

"My ancestor, who was coincidentally also named Dain once said 'The dwarves have no country.' It was a little weird because I thought our home was the Iron Hills, but now I see that what he said was true, from a certain point of view. Why? The answer is simple. Because under Thror the dwarven workers have no power; everything (like, uh, the Arkenstone and stuff) is in the hands of the ruling families; the Dwarven State is merely an instrument for the suppression and oppression of the working dwarf. We will only have a country when we have seized authority and become masters of Khazad-dum. Then, and only then, will it be the duty of the dwarves to defend the fatherland, for then we will be defending our own authority and our own cause; we will not be defending the authority of our Orkish enemies, and we will not be defending the robber policy of our oppressors."

Ducky paused at this moment and pointed at Thrain, Dwalin, and Balin. Sweating and shaking, Ducky shouted:

"Our ends can be attained only by the forcible overthrow of all existing social conditions. We have nothing to lose but our chains (and our heads to Azog!) We have a giant mine to win."

Ducky paused, then added,

"What I'm saying is I should get the Oakenshield you guys. If that wasn't clear."

"Right guys? Get it? A giant MINE? HO Ho ho..."

[Silky Gooseness]

Silarien, an Elf, playing Azog

Silarien preened as she could hear wild applause coming from all around - definitely not just from inside her own head, as was usually the case - and even a clicking noise which might be Kirstel the spider clapping. Or was it Kistrel? Silarien didn’t particularly care: she had THESPIANING to PERFORM. Silarien was 90% sure that was the right verb. She hadn’t gotten where she was in life today by DOUBTING herself.

And where was she today? The star of the show, of course! A star covered in possibly flour and apparently blood, and there was nowhere she would rather be. Except maybe in a hot tub in Rivendell sipping a pina colada. Perhaps they could have the show after party there.

She drew herself up and began to inflict her Acting Powers on everyone again.

AZOG

AZOG gazes contemptuously at THROR’s corpse and the Dwarves swarming about. He shakes the blood from his blade, branding iron in his other fist. Which he still has: for now.

These dwarvish rabble scrabble in the dust
Now wet with blood, the first fruits of this war:
For war I see, beyond these ancient doors,
A vision of the battles yet to come
When one of these poor creatures at my feet
Will claim the lordship of these rebel scum
And spit defiance at their Orcish lords.

But wouldst thou claim THROR’s body, little THRAIN?
The tears thou sheddest shall not staunch the pain,
Nor quench the flame which rises round thee now
The cardboard shadow of that DURIN’S BANE,
The fate that comes to claim thee and thy kin.

But take thou thy small rubbish from my door:
I’ll even pay thee for thy service: here!

AZOG summons a DISPOSABLE GOBLIN to throw a Pouch of Gold at THRAIN

In thy general direction I shall fart;
Thy mother was a hamster, too, I hear;
Thy father made of elderberries tart
Now leave, or I shall taunt thee more, I fear!

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Dimcairien, an elf, playing Balin

By the time Dimcairien managed to pick herself off of the floor, muttering some choice words about Shakespearean branches, a fire had erupted in the Mordor thorn shrubberies on the stage. She looked at them in concern for a brief moment then shrugged saying, "It adds to the ambiance." She looked around at her fellow actors Sil as Azog was still lumbering about and reciting rather outlandish poetry. And something really odd was going on with that cardboard Durin's Bane which was currently on top of Thrain. Dimcairien thought that the cardboard too was sencient.

However, she didn't have much time to think about sentient cardboard because she suddenly found herself in the midst of a tussle with Dwalin, Thorin, and Dain. All the "dwarves" were attempting to grasp the Oakenshield, though she wasn't exactly certain why. All she wanted to do was turn it into firewood for causing her to trip. And Dain was trying to give some sort of speech about why he should be the wielder of the shield and for some reason was not physically in the fray. Choosing to ignore the passionate speech, Dimcairien kicked somebody in what she thought was the head, but really, it could have been any body part, she had no idea which way was up. As she wrestled with someone over the Shakespearean branch, she shouted towards Biblo, who for some odd reason was still in the middle of the battle chaoticness and said, ""That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc."

Dimcairien jerked the Oakenshield out of someone's grasp and held it aloft to sprint towards Azog. As she ran, she continued her narration, "He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." Dimcairien attempt to about face and face Azog while wielding the shield, but once again the Dorwinion wine proved to be far too strong. She stumbled over her own feet this time and the Oakenshield went flying, to land just within reach of the flames coming off of the Mordor thorn bushes.

[Lirimaer]

Ears - former slave/Easterling shadow dancer (on the run) - audience and aspiring actor: THRAIN

The sound of that actually beautiful Elvish voice snarling in song started out amusing, and was becoming extremely personal. If she was not suffering character-bleed, she probably wouldn't have gotten so mad, but the damn cheek of this fellow - strutting like a peacock, stinking of powdered milk! She bellowed a warning and rose slightly, tilting Durin's Bane slightly sideways. She caught it with her hand and pushed it off further, (as it happened, slightly toward the delicately licking flames of the thorn bushes) but the thing was heavier than expected and slid sideways, viciously slicing her hand open with a papercut.

Ow! The blood loss was slow but steady at first, but with the passage of time, and no staunching of the wound, it ran rampantly out of her hand, leaving a steadily increasing pool of blood beneath hert.

She focused her rage on the Pale Orc who was just finishing his lines, and prepared for his ruin with a few short hasty breaths. Mostly though, she was unprepared for the bag of coin that flew through the air from a side-angle, the snaga expertly hitting her in the face. She tenderly touched her jaw under her beard and niqab. "Bubber! Bat reawwy hurbs!" It had bruised her mouth and given her two fat lips, so much so that most of her consonants became bs.

Outraged at these handicaps, she sat down in a puddle of woe. Well blood, technicaly. With all the fighting over the Oaskenshield, no one else was giving two hoots what she was up to, save the cardboard, who was against her anyway and hopefully going to burn. Cradling her bleeding hand, she stood up, forgetting that she was a dwarf and standing tall. Tall as a King, upon whose noble head the weight of rulership was weighing heavily, as she made this impassioned speech:

"You biserable biniob! You bwooby hurb be! Bay your shorb wibe be biwweb bib habe and subbering! I bronounce your boob ubon you! I brebicb bire bisasber! Be bibe shall burn; your briumb brieb and bicbory shaww banish. I biew abar the wrabb of the Bwarbes - rouseb in anger!"

And so saying she headed regally for the wings, hoping the spider would fashion her up some sort of bandage before she suffered terrible blood loss from this shallow wound.

[Laintaen]

Clearly the most powerful weapon on the stage was that lump of wood. It was more effective than the sharpest sword at bringing down an actor. Armed with both the Oakenshield and her pilfered branch, Dwalin would be unstoppable.

With Dain too busy making a lengthy speech to actually make a play for the shield, Dwalin made her move to seize it, taking a kick to the head from an increasingly drunk Balin. She lost her grip on the Oakenshield to that white-haired fiend (wait, aren't they on the same side - this play was very much every-Dwarf-for-themself). Balin made off towards where Azog was making taunts that were rivalling her own, but tripped and the shield went sailing towards the ever-growing flames.

Mud flinging in her wake, Dwalin raced after the shield. Using her trusty branch, she tried to knock the Oakenshield away from the flames where she could safely pick it up. In the process, she set her branch on fire. Hopefully Peachleaf wouldn't notice when she tried to return it!

She picked up the shield in one hand and brandished her flaming torch at those who would take it from her. "Back, you Devils!" she screeched, channelling one normally much shorter than her. "I'm Dwalin and I was here first!"

In her haste to dodge the money purse that had now joined the list of flying projectiles, she set the Oakenshield on fire with her branch. She quickly dropped them both on the ground and stomped on them with her knees to put out the flames.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

It had been a busy day for Thalionwen, settling in at The Slaughter House and trying to render it marginally less of a death trap. She was quite ready for a night out, and even the unpleasant decomposition liquids staining the hem of her kirtle after hours spent cleaning Mordor's dysfunctional hospital could do nothing to dampen her high spirits.

The theater. Thali had never been to a theater--they didn't go in for that sort of entertainment in Rohan. There, arts and culture were primarily confined to long-faced bards reciting alliteration-filled epics in which all the central characters died gloriously in battle. They were generally long, dull, and Thali had yet to make it through one of the aforementioned epics without dozing off.

So it was with great curiosity that she stepped into the Gorgoroth Coliseum. She was late, unfortunately--things at The Slaughter House had taken longer than she expected--but a helpful-looking troll stood quite nearby at a concession stand. Or perhaps it wasn't that he was helpful, he might just have been near-sighted. It was difficult to tell, with trolls. Still, Thali was ravenous, so she drifted over to the concession stand, nodding politely to the few Mordorian creatures lingering in the lobby. They predominantly made rude noises in response, but that was alright. It seemed to be their way.

"HELLO!" Thalionwen said to the troll, having learned that they had a difficult time understanding unless you spoke loud and slow. "I WOULD LIKE...A SNACK. THEY LOOK...DISGUSTING. WHAT CAN I EAT...AND NOT DIE?"

The troll glanced over his wares in some confusion. Most of the concession choices seemed either rotten or alive, which really, were quite distressingly opposite ends of the food spectrum. But at last the troll's simple face brightened and he held out a bucket of Nurnen Kettle Corn. Thali took it happily.

"AND MAYBE SOME DORWINION WINE?" she said.

The troll handed it over and pointed to a sign that read "Donations to the Troll Preservation Fund Mandatory."

"OH POOR YOU, DO YOU NEED PRESERVING?" Thali asked as she fished about in one pocket. "LUCKILY I SOLD SOME BODIES TODAY. I WAS FLAT BROKE AT NOON."

As she dropped her few remaining coins into the Troll Preservation Fund donation box, the concession troll gestured to the door.

"I DON'T HAVE TO WAIT FOR INTERMISSION? I CAN JUST GO IN?"

The troll nodded, and with excitement waking nervous butterflies in her stomach, Thalionwen entered the Coliseum proper.

It was truly an impressive building, if a little upstaged by the spectacular remains of Mount Doom, which could be seen due to the half-ruined Coliseum's total lack of a roof. The crowd was an unruly one, hopping to their feet intermittently and jeering as they launched rotten tomatoes at the stage. Perhaps that was a sign of approval, though. Thali really couldn't be sure. But she was willing to throw tomatoes with the best of them if it was part of the full theater-going experience.

Settling into a seat at random--they didn't appear to be numbered--Thalionwen stuffed a fistful of kettle corn into her mouth. It tasted gratifyingly ordinary, and she ate a few more fistfuls in quick succession, trying to sort out what was happening on the stage. Though the marquee had said the production was a reenactment of the Battle of Azanulbizar, nothing taking place on the boards seemed to make sense. There was what looked to be wizard dressed as a dwarf delivering a monologue on seizing the means of production, a monstrosity meant to be Azog the Defiler but that might have been...an elf?...underneath an entire bakery's worth of flour reciting appalling poetry, an actor rushing off the stage bleeding profusely, a decrepit cardboard Balrog with an unsettlingly sentient aura lying crumpled on the floor, an ent doing Bema knew what, and yes! There was THE ACTUAL OAKENSHIELD, now tragically on fire.

"Maybe I'm missing something in the subtext," Thalionwen mumbled around her mouthful of kettle corn. "This one might be too deep for me."

But the ambiance was at least...interesting...so she settled back in her spiked bench seat and took a swig of Dorwinion wine, intent on enjoying herself whether she entirely understood the play or not. And then she caught sight of a disembodied head and a headless body, lying at the center of the mayhem.

"Oh look!!!" Thali said delightedly, to no one in particular. "I sold that corpse today!!!!!"

And it felt as if in her own small way, she'd contributed to the lofty artistic undertaking unfolding before them all.

[Rivvy Elf]

Orco del Oro

The large orc's eyes narrowed in concentration, as he scratched his forehead several times listening to Dain's speech.

"I think I understand what he's sayin'. But I don't know," Orco said hearing his speech, then frowned as he heard Dain's attempted pun, "I don't get it. Aren't they fighting for tha mine?"

He focused his attention now on Azog, and del Oro nodded in approval. A smirk appeared on his face as Azog twisted the knife in Thrain, throwing 'compensation' at the dwarf. The director laughed as the bag hit the dwarf, and Thrain made a barely comprehensive pronouncement of doom against the orcs.

"Look at this Kistrel (Kirstel)! He can't even speak right!" del Oro exclaimed. The entire tussle over Oakenshield amused him greatly as well. Unnoticed to him was Thrain walking towards the wings.

"Aren't those two brothers? Boy, tha perks a of a dwarf leader must be high," he commented, as Oakenshield itself became repeatedly lit on fire and doused, "somebody should go take care of that flame tho'. It's gettin' a little hot in here."

~~~

Mordor Troll

"RAUGH!" Mordor Troll yelled partly in frustration and partly in relief. He grabbed a couple of other trolls, having to use much of the Nurnen Natural Water that was supposed to be sold as concessions, placing them in the buckets, and coordinating a mass plan to have the trolls all attempt to douse all the areas that were in flames.

"TZU! ARL! ALK!" Mordor Troll screamed. At once, the trolls surrounding the stands above the stage began aiming at the flames. But in reality, who knew what they were aiming at?

~~~

@Thalionwen @Lúthien Tinúviel- You have 48 hours to throw a projectile at any one of the actors. 1 projectile only please

@Sil @Lirimaer @Dimcairien Luiniel @KingODuckingham @Fairy Nuff @Aerlinn @Laintaen @Moriel @Loke Clogwearer @Oro @Landy- Welcome to the Rotten Tomato Mini-Game. You have 72 hours from this post to try to dodge projectiles thrown by the audience as well as any Gamemaster macro-events triggered by various actions. Please review rules 5-7 in the Rotten Tomato Mini-game.

Fairy Nuff- You still have the opportunity to earn the title of "Oakenshield." You have 72 hours.

Congratulations on triggering "NURNEN NATURAL WATER DELUGE (+50 points to all). Not only will you be dodging audience projectiles. You will also be dodging Nurnen Natural Water in these 72 hours. Please forward any questions to the Gamemaster in the OOC thread.




Sil- You have unlocked the achievements: "CANONICAL DIPLOMATIC INSULT (+10 individual points)," and "WRONG FRANCHISE (+10 individual points)."

KingODuckingham- You have unlocked the achievements: "I DON'T GET IT (+1 individual point)," and "MIDDLE-EARTH HISTORIOGRAPHY (+10 individual points)."

Dimcairien Luiniel- You have unlocked the achievement "BAD BROTHER (+10 individual points)."

Lirimaer- You have unlocked the achievements "RIGHT IN THE KISSER (+10 individual points)," and "INCOMPREHENSIBLE KING'S SPEECH (+10 individual points)."

Laintaen- You have unlocked the achievements "BAD BROTHER (+10 individual points)," "CHARRED OAKENSHIELD (+10 individual points)." and "SAMWISE GAMGEE (+10 individual points)."

[DEATH]

For the record, although it looked like I hadn't participated after the most recent prompt, I did take careful note of your instruction:

@Loke Clogwearer Do what you want.

So I went and played Borderlands 3 for two days.

[Silky Gooseness]

Rakhash the Diposable Goblin

Rakhash cackled as he put down his Pom-Poms carefully and retrieved his bag of gold. Not real gold, oh no. The Props Department would no more trust an unworthy goblin with a bag of real gold than it would with an uneaten frog carcass, or unattended child, anything else goblins were known for purloining. (Just kidding. Even goblins know unattended children are more trouble than they’re worth.) No, instead the leather pouch was filled with a mixture of old teeth (also an excellent currency in its own right) and “Rocks what are nice”, at least according to the Prop Troll. Given that the Props department were responsible for the Cardboard Cutouts, your view of their expertise may vary.

Rakhash scrabbled out at his cue - which was the dwarves attempting to claim the recently deceased and peturbingly sticky body of Thror - and lobbed his pouch square at Thrain. A hit! A glorious hit! It didn’t look like Thrain was taking it too well, judging by the B-laden expletives that were coming out from behind the veil. Or behind the beard. Too late Rakhash realised he should probably have staged the throw, but he figured if the Actor playing Thrain wasn’t willing to suffer for her art she probably was worthy of being hit in the face with a pouch full of possibly teeth.

At any rate Rakhash had bigger things to worry about - as he skipped off the stage, he couldn’t help notice two things with his super orcy eyesight:

1) The stage was on fire.
2) The STAGE was ON FIRE.
3) Actually, a point 3 could probably be made here which was that there was also blood everywhere which was
3a) Not all that flammable but
3b) Sticky and hard to run through

Conclusion: what this stage really needed was an influx of...

NURNEN NATURAL WATER

The Freshest Water Around!
Jugged by the Finest Methods
Genuinely Ash Filtered!
This post sponsored by Nurnen Natural Water (NNW LLC). NNC does not take any responsibility for any accidents, mishaps, hallucinations or death caused by ingesting Nurnen Natural Water. Many slaves and animals were harmed in the making of this water. Please do not use to put out stage fires or on actors.

[Fairy Nuff]

Peachleaf as Thorin

After her heavy landing everything had gone dark, and Peachleaf had taken what she considered to be a brief nap. However, the cardboard Durin's Bane was inexplicably lumpy and moved underneath her, until she was shoved off it. That was enough to wake her up and it should be noted that it is not wise to wake a sleeping ent without also providing coffee. She lumbered to her feet, not an easy task and it took some time, all the while a battle ensued around her for the ownership of the Oakenshield. At one point it was waved in front of her, then thrown across her, and finally the smell of smoke reached her nose and, finally upright, she turned with a bellow to see the Oakenshield on fire.

A lot happened at once. Firstly, she was fed up of the Oakenshield always being one step ahead of her as she tried to assume the limelight. Secondly....she squinted at the burning brand in Dwalin's hand...."THAT'S MY BRANCH!!!" She yelled with absolute fury, seeing green* and torpedoing herself across the stage. However, at that moment a small red mushy ball hit the ground in front of her and she stepped on it, sending her flying towards both Dwalin and the Oakenshield...and therefore also the fire!

"Fire...fire no nonono nono NO NO NO" she screamed as she realised she was straight on course for the flames. As she sailed across the stage she passed her original target, Dwalin, and grabbed out for something to hold onto, at first her fingers touched the flames of the torch and she screamed again and pushed away, this time connecting with a rather too warm Oakenshield. At least it wasn't on fire, and perhaps she could use it as an anchor to slow her progress, she latched onto it with all her strength as her momentum pushed her onwards.

Then, of all things, she smelled a most welcome smell - water. She had no idea where it was coming from but there was water and she needed to NOT BE ON FIRE right now, so she tried to see if she could get closer to the water. That wasn't so easy, as it was being thrown from the wings in all directions, but she was heading towards the fire which was also where the water was going, so it wasn't long before she felt the sweet kiss of fresh water wash over her bark, putting out the smoldering embers that had started to itch her bark where she had made contact with the burning torch, and cooling off the Oakenshield.

She finally came to a stop just in front of where the worst of the flames were, and lay there clutching the Oakenshield for all she was worth, looking decidedly soggy, and cradling her burnt hands. She whimpered softly. This acting lark was nothing like she expected.


*seeing green is the equivalent of a bull seeing red, but for ents

[DEATH]

As the scene degenerates ... no, let's be kind. Let's say as the scene develops around him, Loke lays flat ... well, not exactly flat. There's a lumpy person? shaped thing underneath doing - it's hard to tell what they are doing, if we're going to be honest about it. Above, however, seems relatively clear where once it had been tree-shaped and quite heavy. This doesn't help as Loke is incapable of independent movement and nobody has seen fit to assist in this regard since his initial placement on stage. The audience wonders if they might be about to see the unlocking of the hidden achievement "UNASSISTED".

There is definitely heat nearby. Loke is of course, unaware but we know this because it's been mentioned in about a dozen posts by now. There's a fire.

Cardboard is quite famous for being flammable (or inflammable if you're one of those people) and as the odd Easterling who has been so graciously holding it up begins to move Loke slips ever closer to the flames. This is followed by an unceremonious shove, as if to cement the idea that no, the Thrain-actor and the cardboard are NOT on friendly terms and possibly unlock the hidden achievement "BEST ENEMIES", and one would have to describe Loke's position as precariously close to the flames by this point.

Some words from the now remarkably tall Thrain (they do say a king grows in stature when the moment demands it. I'm not sure this is what they meant) that may or may not be directed at cardboard Durin's Bane. It's hard to tell, as cardboard (and we're going to have to get on the same page here eventually, dear reader. It serves only to disrupt the narrative if I keep explaining) is not known for its listening skills, perhaps to the extent of unlocking the hidden achievement "BAD LISTENER".

Flat on its face on the floor quite close to the fire, it should surprise nobody that cardboard Durin's Bane was also well inside the target area for the bucketloads of Nurnen Natural Water (may cause melancholy, unsolicited grief, madness, and more) being flung in the general direction of the flames. It should further surprise said nobody that some water inevitably lands on, and soaks into the cardboard cutout. As the deluge continues and the stage begins to flood, It feels at this point that Loke might be about to unlock the hidden achievement "COME SAIL AWAY".

As if by magic (although more likely by instruction) Stage Hand #7 arrives amid the choas and heaves cardboard Durin's Bane to an upright position, attempting to lift and remove it from the stage. Somewhat clumsily he grips the cutout on each side, all elbows as he does so. Framed by flame and facing away from the audience, the shadow about him reached out like two vast wings. Standing as tall as he can in order to raise his prop above the ankle-deep water, he drew himself up to a moderate height, and his wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Stage Hand #7 could be seen, struggling in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone. Well, except for the cardboard cutout which may have been unlocking the hidden achievement "SILENT COMPANION" as they stood together.

Eventually Stage Hand #7 gets his act together (Ha! Take that, punsters!) and half carries, half drags the soggy mess that is the cardboard cutout of Durin's Bane off to the shadowy wings (see what I did there?) and looks around desperately for a towel. Without immediate remedial attention, this prop wouldn't last until the next act, much less the next performance. Spotting a dirty and possibly oily rag draped over a barrel in a corner, Stage Hand #7 begins frantically wiping down the cardboard cutout in an attempt to have it ready for its next assignment. Could this be the point at which we see the unlocking of hidden achievement "WAX ON, WAX OFF"? Only time will tell...