ARPYS 2022 The Shadow Rises Awards Ceremony

[Fuin Elda]

There was chaos about Barad-dur. Someone had allowed some elves and humans to show up and start jushing up the place as they called it. And what was worse? Sauron had forbidden any of his denizens of the Dark Lands from killing them out right. It was a complete and utter affront to all that was dark and terrifying.

There was now a great leveled area near the cesspits that had been cleaned of the sharp rocks and a great carpet had been laid out. The only upside to the carpet was the fact it was a fantastic shade of red that didn't really show blood. An orc had tested that out on another captive since these ones were declared absolutely off limits for all sticking stabbing and otherwise unaliving. The cesspools were another entire matter. They'd cleaned most of them out until it was just the bubbling slimy water and then they'd done something. Somehow the elf had managed to get them to glow! In reds and yellows and it was quite impressive and cast some fantastic shadows but it was completely an utterly unnatural.

Indeed there were even properly made and fine tables probably akin to those that Sauron had used once upon a time when he was known as Annatar, and great lamps made to look like bats with their wings folded about great candles that threw dancing light upon the floor and stage that had been built with the great tower of Barad-dur in the background. Sauron for his part seemed content to sit and stare upon the stage and the entire proceedings as if he were some sentient spotlight for the proceedings. The denizens of the Dark Lands were quite please at how unnerving that was for the Free people that were under the gaze of the Eye and soon banners in red and black went up announcing just what all of this was for.

The ARPYS had come to Mordor as promised.



Those that braved the lidless eyes gaze found themselves in a great open area with a stage and a few tables, holding food, that was guarded by a very dapper looking troll in a bowtie that one elf was calling Ferdinand who let out a huff whenever the orcs tried to take more than a handful of the fancy little things that the Free people called Hors d'oeuvres and they scuttled away. He'd been bribed with an entire roast auroch for the task.

Those that were invited soon arrived to find the ARPYs Council were well underway sorting envelopes to different people in order to make sure that the awards were given out properly.

While you wait for the awards to be given out we invite you to try a sampling of Mordors finest foods and wines.

Food
Honey and Garlic Batwings - may or may not be chicken
Lady Fingers - some may or may not contain bones
Shellfish from the Sea of Nurn - Add salt they wiggle.
Stuffed Mushrooms - do not ask where they found mushrooms you do not want to know
WitchKings Cauldrons - a fantastic black cake with a molten center
Crispy Hoppit and Elf ears - Served with your choice of dip

Drinks
Haradi Wines - Stronger than you think.
Gangrene Tea - A strange green brew
Orquilla Sunset - 99% alcohol, 1% fruit juice - a shot to end all. (Served in a Shot glass)
Screaming Ringwraith – Pure Nazgûl Essence, enough said. (Served in a Shot glass)
SOTBON (Sex on the Beach of Nurnen) - Awesome ice breaker, dark, powerful - excellent start to any party, served with red or black umbrella.
Stolen Hobbit Ale* - Because what Mordorian celebration is complete without something stolen?


*we make no promises that hobbits were not kidnapped and forced to make ale in Mordor

Threadiquette:
• All Plaza RP Rules Apply, please refer to the RP Code of Conduct if unsure
• Please don’t Godmode without permission. However, your hosts reserve the right to Godmode slightly (e.g. assume you’re in one spot or the other) to move the party along.
• IC posts only, please. If an OOC is necessary please mark it clearly and write it at the bottom of your post; you don’t need to white it out. It can also be moved to the ARPY OOC thread (see below).
• If you have any comments, questions or concerns, or if I have (yet again) managed to utterly confuse you please head over to the ARPY OOC thread and ask your questions and the Triumvirate will get back to you ASAP
• For the colour loving post people: please refrain from posting in bright, light and neon colours (otherwise known as foo colours). Brights, lights and neons a great eyeshadow look make, but it hurts our eyeses when we needs to read them, so I would strongly encourage you to use darker colours. Or you know, plain black. Black is good, there’s nothing wrong with it. Please, if it’s not too much of a bother. Thank you!
• Speaking of colours, please don’t use BOLD RED (#FF0000), since your GMs (@Fuin Elda , @Silky Gooseness and @Nessa Saelind ) will use it for announcements.
• You may post as multiple characters, both canon and your own. However, if someone has claimed a canon character first, please check in with them (in tARPY OOC thread) before also posting as that character. If someone doesn’t post as that canon character or respond to a nudge for 5 days, the character will be up for grabs again.
• Have fun!

[Rivvy Elf]

Nazgûl Horse Steed #57

It was supposed to be a relaxing day off for the black stallion, as he trotted and pranced about near the cesspits, eating the thorny vegetation that somehow grew out of this land, but then all sorts of strange non-Mordor people with corporeal bodies began squeeing and trying to talk to him. They even tried to communicate in the horse's language through eye contact and noises! One of them tried to teach them some sort of language, the audacity! Had nobody ever seen a black stallion before (unbeknownst to the horse, all the ones in Rohan were horsenapped)? Feeling rather startled and annoyed, as it was his day off, he decided to gallop away, finding an area to hide.

Horse Steed #57 found an area with a great red carpet. Slowing to a trot and finally a four-legged walk, the black stallion scoffed, shaking its great black mane and entering the entrance. His tail swished in utter arrogance and he cast his gaze not at the denizens he walked past, for they were not the steeds that the great Nazgûl placed themselves on. These included the weirdly-dressed trolls, another being that the Nazgûl did not use as a steed.

In respect, of course, Horse Steed #57 paid his respects to Lord Sauron by collapsing on all fours and bowing his head.

After the Horse Steed #57 felt like there were no orders placed upon him by his boss' boss, he would then walk towards the horse devers, or whatever they were supposed to be called, arrogantly turning its head away from the food that he did not like... which was pretty much all of them. Then he went over to the drinks area.

Part of him wanted to use his great tongue to lick the cups containing the weirdly non-water substances. But some weird part of his brain foresaw him making a mess, tilted beverages spilling everywhere.

So he decided to trot over next to the troll in a bowtie (Ferdinand), making a show of flicking his tail at him and turning his head away from the troll, for they were not steeds of the great Nazgûl.

Nevertheless, this black stallion would feel a little thankful for whomever came up and offered him one of those drinks.

[Drifa]

After years of keeping her feet healthy, exfoliating the skin, trimming the toenails, and keeping corns, bunions, and callous at bay, Drifa felt exasperated. Her feet were sweating, slipping about in supple leather boots— caused by the cesspits and the sickening hardness of the evil rock beneath her feet. She spent her life with her feet beneath stone and rock in her Mountain home. But it was a good solid rock with a kind of spring to it. Not like this tortured ground. She was glad to see the red carpet before her and hastily stepped onto it.

She stood for a moment to wipe the sweat smartly from her brow. She knew her neatly plaited beard, encrusted with tiny red rubies, would soon become frizzy in the heat. Her long skort, about calf-high of shadow blue, felt like it was clinging to her body, her gold belt extra heavy from the heat and her hidden axe. What she needed was refreshment.

Under the lidless Eye (which made her feel somewhat insecure but not respectful), she carefully avoided the enormous black stallion who was genuflecting on all fours. She found the table with drinks. An uncomfortable-looking troll in a bowtie was serving or guarding the table. Ale in a large mug found its way into Drifa's hand without her having to touch the troll's claw. She took a giant swig of ale and stood sweating under the bat lights and daunting present of the evil lord, waiting patiently for the award ceremonies to begin. And wondering how she had decided to make this journey in the first place. Hopefully, she mused, the food will be good.

[Silky Gooseness]

Bûbosha, Administrative Orc

She had licked the sharp nib of her quill with such frequency and venom that the tip had began to bite into her tongue. Fortunately, Bübosha’s blood was the same sludgy, thick black that comprised her ink. Perhaps it was even of better quality: Bubôsha made a mental note to have another minion look into their stationery supplies and see if they might be better off replacing their ink with the blood of the less useful orcs.

Another item ticked off her list, she began to scribble with increasing fury before she heard the distinct noise of a riderless horse scoffing, shortly followed by the tramp of good Dwarven boots.

“Oh Fredegar,” she mumbled, her hands smoothing the parchment nervously before adding it to the heap besides her. “They’ve begun to arrive already? But I only began preparing this six months ago! Where are the canapés? FETCH THE CANAPÉS,” she roared at the serving-goblins, tottering to her toad-shodden feet and hasting off with her rolls of parchment.

[Arnyn]

Kaylin, human

Lady in Red

She must be out of her mind to come here. But then again, she had never been able to resist a good party. And since she had received copious reassurance that she would not be harmed without a disguise... here she was. Completely and unapologetically human. Which apparently wasn't the biggest problem - which made sense of course, given black Numenoreans, Haradrim, Southrons, Umbarians... The only advice she had been given was to perhaps not look too... Gondorian. The lidless Eye really didn't like Gondor. "Not that it should be an issue,' her contacts had told her. 'That is, unless someone - or something (it IS Mordor) pokes at the Eye. The Dark Lord really doesn't like getting prodded, and then maybe he'll try and look for someone to sacrifice to a Balrog or throw into the torture pits. You know, to make himself feel better. Odds are that, at that point, if a Gondorian were available...'

So... Kaylin had reached out to some people, and they had gotten her a blood red dress in one of the Umbarian styles. It would definitely be hot enough in the heart of Mordor to justify the look, she'd been told, and it would be fancy enough for an award ceremony all the same. The red fabric was thin but there was a lot of it, despute the cut outs and the high slits for her legs. The plus side was that it was quite comfortable and that she could move in it well. Hell, she could ride a horse in this, no problem. So if trouble should arise... at least she'd be able to try and fight her way out of it.

Her long, sleek red hair was tied into a high ponytail, with only a few shorter strands let down to frame her face. Her eyes had been set in black liner, as she knew was also frequently done in Umbar. There was little to be done about their light blue-grey color, which currently stood out all the more due to Kaylin's summer tan. Against her own preference, she was wearing high-heeled strappy sandals. Red ones, of course. From her hair to her footwear, Kaylin was all in red. Even the small stones dangling from her silver earrings were red.

She fit in rather well with the decor, she noted upon her arrival at the location for the award ceremony. A red carpet... yellow and red glowing cess pools?... reddish orange bat lamps... red and black banners... and then, of course, there was the Eye. Not that Kaylin would ever call the Eye a decorational piece - aherm. Although. What could an Eye do really, other than look around and be looked at? With a shrug, she cast the thought from her mind, and admired the set up stage and the food and drinks tables, not to mention the troll looming over them with a watchful gaze. The bowtie was a nice touch. The troll even seemed partially washed! Could you imagine?

With a half smile, Kaylin leisurely walked up to one of the refreshment tables and stood in indecision as to what drink she might try. Some of them she did not dare try - not anything she had ever experienced in Gondor. At parties, the stronger the beverage the better, was usually her motto. But Screaming Ringwraith, for example? Nazgûl Essence was not exactly something she wanted to drink up. Perhaps a SOTBON. Dark, strong... and it came with an umbrella!

Sold!

As she was sipping the drink, her eyes roamed the area. The troll quickly reclaimed her attention, even as she noted the taste of the SOTBON was particularly good. Next to the troll, then, was an all-black steed (@Rivvy Elf). A strong, muscled horse he was! Kaylin slanted her head as she watched the steed flicking its tail at the troll. Pestering the troll? Or perhaps... asking the troll for refreshments? Kaylin's face grew thoughtful. She was just waiting for the ceremony to begin. She didn't really have much else to do. Kaylin checked out one of the food tables and noted there were bowls available for those who wanted to take a selection of the food with them, away from the tables. She snagged one of the bowls and slowly, but surely, she approached the Steed . "Such an impressive one you are," she said to the steed. She held out the bowl and held her glass of SOTBON next to it, intending to pour some of it in but first testing to see the beast's response. "Would you like to try some? This is the Beach of Nurnen business. Or would you prefer wine, or um..." She hesitated momentarily. "Screaming Ringwraith?"

[Dungeon Delver]

Here he was, once again, at a gala whose meaning he did not understand. Frost swore off galas and parties of all sorts and yet, and yet, here he was, and in the Dark Tower no less. He could not shake the feeling that he had been drawn here against his will. It was not the power within the Tower he feared, no he’d dealt with that once and already found it wanting, it was something without, paying puppet master. He was a mannequin with strings uncut. At least the place didn’t smell like burning tallow, ever since his last excursionary visit to this place he’d found he couldn’t bear that smell and the associated memories. It didn’t smell pleasant, but at least it was not burning tallow.

The last time he was at one of these parties, parties which served a purpose he could not and would not understand, he’d had the misfortune of running afoul of likely the most unctuous pair in all of Middle-earth. Lord Foulwindir and Lady Tradwifiel or something. He couldn’t quite remember their names, or their faces. Elves perhaps? He shrugged. They’d taken it upon themselves to be angry at his very existence. Whatever happened to them? Frost shrugged again, found someone else they objected to probably. He doubted he’d have to run into them here in the Black Lands, that was reason enough to be happy, he was sure. He might run into a windbag or two but he could deal with that, preferably after a few drinks.

The party seemed to be slowly gaining traction too, he didn’t recognize any of the faces yet, but he’d not really been looking. His date for the evening was not of the human or elven variety either. She scuttled next to him on eight silent legs, the size of a hunting hound. It was not the first time they’d traversed these halls together, and it would likely not be the last, though the Númenórean severely hoped this visit would be less interesting than their previous visits.

“You could have dressed nicer,” Rissud said, her voice resonating inside his skull. “I thought you didn’t want to be recognized.”

“I’m dressed perfectly reasonable, thank you very much,” he retorted. “It’s not like I can wear a gothic butterfly dress amongst this crowd and have it adequately appreciated."

“No. And if you dressed like a butterfly, I’d likely eat you,” agreed the spider, hurrying ahead of him, moving with the unnatural grace spiders had, no matter their size. “Perhaps you should have dressed like a wasp instead?”

“I am dressed just fine! You’re the one that could have, well dressed.” He said aloud, with a little more snark in his voice than he’d wanted. He smiled, nonetheless. An orc looked at him, confused. “Not talking to you,” he said, pointing to the spider. The orc jumped and skittered away on iron-shod feet. Frost shrugged. Spiders of great size had a tendency to provoke that sort of response in people; bugs larger than their thumbnails made people uncomfortable and panicky, likely some sort of lizard brain response, an ancestral memory of someone with eight legs that was much, much larger and cause very many of the world’s problems. He looked from the orc to Rissud. He lacked that response, which either spoke to something being deeply broken in his psyche or being further on the evolutionary path than his fellow sapients.

“Don’t eat him,” Frost warned his date. “Don’t eat anyone, for that matter.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you can be a true killjoy? I’m hungry for something better than orc flesh. I want— "

“No, none of that either! Food and conversation only.”

“That’s not what you got up to at last year’s festivities, I hear,” her voice was tinny and sarcastic.

“Those were under different circumstances,” he said. “And you aren’t her. Now, come along Rissud. There’s still some fun to be had.”

They entered to party proper and waved off the besuited troll. Frost needed no assistance in finding his way about the place. Being Mordor, there was a random assortment of guests so far. A horse, owned by one of the Nazgûl (he couldn’t tell if it was one of Adûnaphel’s because he couldn't see the telltale red craw marks tattooed onto the neck), he nodded to the beast anyway. Mustn’t be rude after all. There was a dwarf here too, one that looked bewildered and befuddled at her presence here, he might try and talk to her later, her beard was fantastic and Frost always sought out tips on the nature of that subject. There was an orc yelling something about canapes too. Canapes? In Mordor? Suddenly his mouth felt very dry. No one else caught his attention, though there was likely more than a few people trying to blend with a combination of absurd and evil that spoke to their inclination toward the former rather than the latter. Laughable, but inevitable.

He snapped his fingers at the bartender. It wasn’t Mozran so he didn’t feel the need to be overly respectful. After perusing the menu and the assorted alcohols Frost settled on a whisky. There was time enough for something stronger later. He had a feeling he would need to pace himself tonight.

[Fuin Elda]

Indeed this was a strange land to host such an illustrious event but this was where it was to be held however thus far the orcs, trolls of Mordor had made for admirable workers for the event itself. Something that made Fuin nod. Of course quite frankly it was likely because if they didn't behave and do as they were under penalty of death. That said the decorations that they'd managed to set up were stunning. Honestly she debated on stealing several of the bat shaped lanterns to decorate her own manor. She'd have to cleanse the thing likely though. She smoothed out her long black gown it was a black lace over a nude bodice and silver adornments on her shoulders and about her neck and her long dark hair was razor straight waiting patiently for the envelope that she needed... A small goblin creature came running to her with the golden envelope sealed in red wax. She knew what it was she'd helped to fill each envelope after the voting. She took it looking down at the little creature and motioned that he was free to go and he happily enough ran off. Probably glad to be away from an elf.

She let out a sigh swept from around a sharp outcropping of rocks and onto the small stage that was available. There she could see Ferdinand hard at work, and... a steed of the Nazgul a spider as well as a few humans most of which seemed to be trying to get drinks.

"Welcome to this years ARPYS." She said calmly and cooly. "It has been a long time coming and I am glad to see all of you here, of course it is time to begin the awards themselves."

"Our first award is Best Lore post, Lore posts are one of the major foundations of this community and we often have loremasters here that we differ to when curious about simple things, however not everthing is simple, and at times debates can take years, other times they are simple conversations and sharing of ideas which ebb and flow like the tides. This past year with certain issues that came up many posts and conversations were abruptly cut short and then brought back, encouraging new and different discussion on some of the same topics."

"Our nominees for this years best Lore post were:

@Androthelm : On Balrogs, Caradhras, and Moria thread
@Boromir88 : On Isolation thread
@Boromir88 : On Black Breath and Disembodied Nazgul 2.0
@Elenhir : Banishment from Death? Thread
@Troelsfo : Banishment from Death? Thread
@Troelsfo : Breadcrumbs to Queerness thread
@Troelsfo : Many Meetings thread
@Troelsfo : Immortal/Magical Orcs
@Vorondir : ""Mastery"""

And our Winner is by popular vote:
Troelsfo: Breadcrumbs to Queerness thread


Congratulations Troelsfo! You're welcome to make an acceptance post (whenever while this thread is active) and you are also welcome to adorn your signature with the following badge!

Code: Select all

[img]https://i.imgur.com/4CCbrgP.jpg[/img]

[Rivvy Elf]

Nazgûl Horse Steed #57

Other people and creatures entered into the hall. Among them was a very short bipedal bearded person that smelled much different than expected (@Drifa). There was a human that was well acquainted with a spider (@Metatron Omega). Fascinating, that one! Spiders, in the horse's experience, tended to prefer their humans bound in silk. But this one was dressed for the occasion, apparently.

Then a red-haired human decided to approach the horse.

@Arnyn A strange human! thought the stallion, as the muscles around his eyes tightened a little as she approached. The garb was of one of the bipedal creatures of the Southwest, the ones that should have smelled of saltwater and oranges. But the scent was... off. The human said words, though because the words were not in the specialized language of the Nazgûl towards their steeds, he could not understand them. But what he could understand was the offering of tribute. After all, only the Nazgûl had the privilege of riding him, so any other beings that the Nazgûl did not ride on (besides the Boss' Boss), therefore aught to issue gifts on the stallion.

The horse slightly turned his head away from the human, raised his head, curled his upper lip, breathed in and audibly breathed out. If he had done so facing the human, then there would have been the possibility of the drink spilling on her. But it wasn't as if the horse cared about the human's dress being ruined! No no, it was because that would have ruined the scent that the horse was trying to further digest in his nose.

With Nazgûl Horse Steed #57 fully gathering the scent, his head immediately switched back to stare at the human. For this was not some human from the Southwest. No, the scent was more... Western, than southwest.

... A captured person being forced to assimilate to the Southwest sea peoples? That would make sense in terms of the offering of tribute. Yes, it all made sense now! This person was most definitely trying to fashion themselves in a manner befitting one of those Southwestern peoples. Trying to rise the ranks of hierarchy and stature, perhaps with the ambition of one day of reaching the stature of a Nazgûl Steed. But alas, unless this being could fly, Nazgûl Horse Steed #57 could not see much in terms of potential.

The steed's eyes relaxed in pity as he accepted the tribute. First he accepted the SOTBON, taking first the umbrella with his mouth, chewing the wood, ensuring that no splinters would scratch his digestive tract, then swallowing it. Then the steed carefully drank from the glass, opting to not use his tongue to slush the liquid all over the place. Not that he cared about ruining the human's dress! No, it was to prevent the scent from being mixed up.

Finally he gazed at the bowl of treats. There was one particular item in there that he wanted to eat, for much of it was meat, and Nazgûl Horse Steed #57 did NOT eat meat in public. Perhaps if the woman chose correctly, then the horse's opinion of the strange human would heighten a little.

~~~

When the winners' names were announced, Nazgûl Horse Steed #57 would repeatedly stomp its hooves on the ground. Some would interpret that as applause... but really the horse stomped because he wanted a translation of the words in Nazgûl speech, which was preferable to the steed.

[Dungeon Delver]

Awards. Again. This was shaping up to be very similar to that event last year. Frost took another slow, purposeful sip of whisky. He had no idea what the awards were or what sort of prize had been attached. The prize was something about Lore, breadcrumbs and queerness. It didn’t make any sense to the Númenórean, but very little that happened in Mordor made any level of sense. He supposed that was the charm of the place, if the Black Lands could be said to have any charm whatsoever. He clapped. What else was there to do in such a case? After awards are announced, one was supposed to clap. He wasn’t raised in a Gondorian barn, he knew that much.

“What do you think the likelihood is that this particular award will be accepted?” Rissud asked, appearing on the table next to him, her pedipalps waving dangerously close to his face.

“Black gods!” Frost hissed, nearly spilling his whisky. “What are you doing on the bloody table? You’re not a dog, have some decorum.”

Spiders don’t smile, something for which orcs, humans, and elves should be eternally grateful. There were enough sanity shredding things in the world involving spiders, it was best to leave human like facial ticks off the list. Still, Frost knew enough about his arachnid compatriots to know their facial and ocular expressions, and it was enough to make him shiver. They all thrived on making a show of themselves, Rissud was no different. In fact, this young spider might be what some could call a Prima Donna. “Get down!”

Rissud did as she was bid, skittering off the table to stand next to Frost. She had grown quite a bit since they’d met a few years passed now. She’d barely been the size of a house cat then. Calling a spider the size of a cat small was absurd, but that did not make it true. Now her head was roughly at his waist. Great Spiders grew quickly, it would seem.

“I couldn’t see the presenter. I wanted a better look at her. Can you blame me?” She then raised up on six legs, lifting her two forelegs into air in an intimidation posture.

“What in the Mother’s name are you doing?” Frost said, rolling his eyes and finishing his whisky in a single gulp. So much for savoring it.

“You’re being boring. I want to see if there’s something else that is willing to speak to me.”

“You can’t go anywhere with spiders,” mumbled Frost.

“You didn’t answer my question, by the by,” she said, settling back down on all eights.

Frost blinked and looked back down at the spider. “What?” He needed another drink. Several probably.

“Is the awardee going to pick up the award? It looks quite nice. I might take it if they don’t.”

“No.”

“No, to what part?”

“I don’t know, all of it,” said Frost, rubbing his temples.

“But they look so interesting. Is it a dragon, a wurm, a fell beast? I’m quite curious. Can I have yours?”

Frost rolled his eyes. “I doubt I’m getting anything tonight. I don’t even know what half of this nonsense is. What sort of society is putting this show on? Who are the judges? What is the criteria? And above all, and I can’t stress this part enough, what is it?”

“Maybe your poor human mind can’t comprehend it. I can understand it just fine. And I want a trophy.”

“You vex me, you are terribly vexing; go bother someone else. Don’t eat them.”

Rissud scuttled off to find, well to find whatever it was she was going to find. Frost had to admit that he didn’t care a great deal about what she was going to do or eat. There was little chance she was not going to eat at least one person tonight. It didn’t matter how many time he told her not to. Spiders are not very good at taking direction. In fact, they are more impossible to herd than cats. Frost had experience in both. He was glad to have her voice out of his head for the moment. Arachnid voices in one’s head was likely not healthy, and he had far too many of them in his head to begin with.

“I need another,” he told the bartender. “A double if this is how things are going to progress tonight.”

[Pele Alarion]

No matter how decorated - even though it could be considered decorated - this place was, it was still too uncomfortable for Shamara's liking. With a single purpose to blend into the shadows she had dressed herself all in black, though her garments were not tasteless. Her long dress was still quite airy and comfortable, allowing for free movement though it reached all the way down to her ankles. Her supple leather boots were a matching black, and so was her long hair, though it was collected in a loose braid and rested over her left shoulder.

Not long after she had arrived and had not gotten accustomed to the environment and examined the present public yet, she was handed an envelope. With a soft mutter of displeasure, Shamara took it, hesitated for a few moments, and then moved towards the stage. She was not sure why it was that it was her who had to do this thing and why it even mattered, but here she was and she'd do it.

"Dear folks," she began, having jumped lightly onto what passed for a stage and nodding at Fuin in recognition. "I'm here to announce the winner for the Best Story from among..." The Umbarian strained her eyes to read, trying to get the light from one of the bat-lamps:

@Ercassie Home is Where the Hurt is... (1 of 3)
@Ercassie Bad Blood – Part 1
@Metatron Omega (Frost) Mama Bear
@Metatron Omega (Frost) Leave Her Johnny (TA 1087)
@Metatron Omega (Frost) Maker’s Mark
@Moriel Take a Break
@Zôrzimril (Tara) Obsidian (The Market)
@Zôrzimril (Tara) Rock Salt and Sapphires (FA 87)
@Zôrzimril (Tara) Minhiriath, S.A. 998 (Fangorn short story competition entry)
@Lailyn Halifirien, Anorien. TA March 3019
@Lailyn Lail’s entry for Fangorn short story competition
@Winddancer Amlaith's Clay Pipes

Shamara paused for emphasis and then all but sang out melodiously:

The Winner is:
Zôrzimril: Obsidian (The Market)


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[Aikári Salmarinian]

Utchuk

Utchuk didn’t wear the heavy clothes, but had kept the rather nice brown furred skin of a mountain bear. Human hands had gotten the bear and he had more or less stolen the fur. It served him among as cloak. He was further dressed in leather and skins from the animals once captured and eaten. He had a belt on his waist that supported a Morgul knife, a sharp dagger and for disguise he wore a stolen human sword, where the handle was wrapped in cloth. He wore necklace of animal bones like he was some wild man of the eastern plains of Palisor. These days he rather wandered around hiding his true features. Infiltrating human lands was not easy for his kind. But it was possible if you were careful. Inns weren’t his favourite places, but he could be there rather undetected. The usual stink that hung around his kind, wasn’t upon him. But he smelled not to soap either. Since leaving Dale he had wandered on his own, seeing barely anybody. The easy frightened humans weren’t a match for him. Fresh meat was good, but a roistered flavour was better. Little specimens wouldn’t eat him from the inside out, as some of his kind happened to. Such deaths were terrible.

Mordor was the last place he wanted to come, if anything at all. Nothing what he had imagined, or what he had thought about this chance to see it with all other species around. He couldn’t make out what it was here all about. Or what Arpies were? Weren’t that harpies? From the eastern lands lived the strangest myths of birds and human mixtures. At the stall for food and drinks Utchuk gathered some brew, which appeared to be a real wine from Harad. The taste was stronger than expected, but he could handle that. He wouldn’t have any prices to his heart desires. Utchuk was not invited at all. He came anyway, as a Haradhrim. Prices were handled out already, but he shrugged and turned his back to that. He saw other humans and dwarves at least. A few pointy eared perhaps and other evil breeds. He said nothing and just wandered around, and sipped now and then from the Harad wine. What more could he expected of a backwards land? He snorted with disdain when he saw some small orcs scurrying around. Meat on legs for some. What walked in his path, he gave a firm boot in the back, so the way to walk was clear. He got grumps and curses over him. He answered with a sip from the bowl in his hand.

[Silky Gooseness]

The Mouth of Sauron, presenting for Best Art

*

He tilted his head carefully this way and that, examining his reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, the narrow eyeslits in his large helmet prevented him from fully admiring himself, but, as this was a formal event, it was best he go formally attired - and the Big Helmet was just such an iconic part of his presentation, he really couldn’t go without it. The Mouth sighed and flattened a crease on his leathern doublet. Time to go.

The range of canapés was really outrageous, he thought to himself crossly as he drained a glass of wine and threw it at Bübosha’s head. The administrative staff were even more useless than usual - at least someone had handed him an order of ceremony, albeit with many crossings out and written in a shaky script that could’ve been the work of a crazed spider who had fallen in an inkwell. The Mouth shouldered his way onto the stage and smiled, causing several audience members to flinch. He opened his envelope and invisibly quirked an eyebrow.

“Best… art?” he muttered. In his opinion there were no better arts than that of torture, but that didn’t seem to be a category. Instead, the artists he listed all appeared to be going for a different aesthetic altogether.

“Your nominees are:

1. @Drifa Photo of a red flower from I See Things Art and Photos thread

2. @Drifa Photo of a shore-line from I See Things Art and Photos thread

3. @Fuin Elda The Elk in the Sun from Fuin’s Tatto Sketchbook

4. @Fuin Elda Laintaen's Side tattoo - The Ages of Middle Earth from Fuin’s Tatto Sketchbook

5. @Nia Sunset video from Digital doodles & piano thread

6. @Pele Alarion Photo of the Sea at Sunset from Pele’s Randomness thread

7. @Zôrzimril (Tara) Adventure Time recreation from Tarawen’s Photography thread

8. @Zôrzimril (Tara) Photos from Korea from Tarawen’s Photography thread.

“And your winner is…”

He paused for a drumroll. There were no drums. The Mouth glared so ferociously at a passing goblin that it began tremblingly tinkling its little fork against its glass, which served well enough.

“@Fuin Elda, with her image of An Elk In The Sun! Excellent work Fuin, and if you tell us all next time where the elk are, maybe we can have a decent meal for once,” he suggested.

---

sig award: https://i.imgur.com/o2F4crA.jpg

[Dungeon Delver]

Another glass of whisky was dead on the table in front of him, relieved of guts and sustenance. How many was that now? Frost was beginning to lose count. Time in a place like that had very little meaning. Everything was moving far too quickly and far too slowly, somehow both at the same time. He did not understand it. He stood through two different award presentations, assuming that’s what they were, and he was still no closer to understanding the metatextual meaning of anything going on around him. What script was he supposed to be following, what linear path of thoughts and actions was he supposed to take to find some sort of enlightenment? He was beginning to get agitated. For all the good whisky, conversation was in very short supply. Rissud had wandered off, probably to go eat a few people despite his admonition against it, and the livelier members of this part seemed to be lulling into a stupor. The musicians, too, was less than vigorous. They lacked that sort of zeal and ardor that he so enjoyed in his music. These lads need some fire of motion, that was certain.

He heard the winner of the first award and got his hopes up. Zôrzimril. He hadn’t heard that name in some time. It would have been nice to see her again, in any sort of capacity, but alas the award was passed on and there was no sign of his old friend. He chided himself for hoping she might appear, ethereal and sinister out of the shadows to claim this award. He shouldn’t have expected her to come, wherever she was, she was long gone from these lands with all its politicking and intrigue. Even though this sort of event was a veritable chess board for her to pilfer and sway and distract through, Mordor itself was not one of her favorite places to play. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, he hoped she was enjoying herself. He toasted to her memory, the returned to his morose philosophizing.

He murdered another glass of whisky as the next award was presented, ignoring most of the presentation itself. He did find it odd that the Mouth himself was here, presenting awards to his lowly subjects. Normally such a man was stuff in the onyx towers of privilege. He didn’t oft demean himself by mixing with the plebs. Frost didn’t either, but he didn’t have an official rank to fall behind. He shrugged.

That’s when he noticed an orc. He thought it was an orc. It was one of the better dressed orcs he’d come across. But this was not Rök or Sarghêst or Mozran. He didn’t know this one. Perhaps it was the liquid ease of the whisky that made his decision to approach the stranger all the easier, before he was half aware himself, he stood next to the orc and nodded to himself. Not one of the regular grubby little miscreants at all. Though the orc looked confused. He imagined his own face mirror as similar vexment.

“Arpies,” he said, not looking in the same direction as the orc. “What are they even supposed to be?”

[Drifa]

All Drifa could think as the red carpet began to get crowded was, why hadn't she sent Afird Splitaxe in her stead? The Land of Shadow wasn't the place for a gentle dwarf like herself, although, if invoked, she would not be shy to use her axe on an orc's neck. But fighting was not her liking, and she only did so in need. She continued to sweat, knowing that her throat under her beard would chaff red as she waited for the horrormony to end.
She applauded politely when the winner was announced,Zôrzimril for the Best Story. After the clapping had stopped, she couldn't help but listen to the confusion of some orcs as they tried to figure out the actual meaning of the awards.
'Orc!' she exclaimed under her breath, shaking her head.
As she refilled her mug with fresh ale ( although it did not seem to quench her thirst), she thought of indulging in the food set out for the occasion. But, she would have to move from her spot on the red carpet, and there were too many creatures ( horses, spiders and orcs) in her path, and she chose not to. Besides, she thought, the food would most likely taste like ash.
A foul-feeling creature that went by the name Mouth of Sauron presented the next award. He had a large helmet on his head. When he mentioned Drifa's name in the list of nominees, she shivered, but she was not a winner. She was glad that she did not have to approach the being. She did clap politely for Fuin, who took the award. She had always admired this Ef's work.

[Pele Alarion]

Shamara had not managed to wander too far, having been curious about the art, and so the orc who rushed at her with another envelope did not have to go looking too far.

"Here, for you," he said and ran away immediately. The Umbarian rolled her eyes wondering if she'd have to hand out all the awards and show off on that stage that often - she was not sure she liked too much attention. However, the thing had to be done, so she headed back to the stage, giving the Mouth a wide berth just in case.

"Well, Mordor folks and guests, this is all 'bout BEST ORIGINAL POEM, and if you care to read any there's the list of nominees:

1. @Metatron Omega “Algernon Blackwood” from the Haiku thread
2. @Metatron Omega “Frost's next two daughters are twins” from the Limericks! thread
3. @Metatron Omega “Abyssal Sonet #1” from Words to Destroy the Universe thread
4. @Saranna “Untitled” from Saranna's writings again restored
5. @Saranna “Galadriel” from Saranna's writings again restored
6. @Zôrzimril (Tara) “Haiku thread returns” from the Haiku thread

Feel free to reread. And it is written herein that the winner is:

Saranna with Untitled"

---

sig award:https://i.imgur.com/kxorv5w.jpg

[Arnyn]

Kaylin, human

Lady in Red


The stallion first seemed to snub her offer by turning away its black head and huffing, sort of. Kaylin was careful not to make a face, instead maintaining her composure. A dreadful feeling befell her as the black horse snapped its head back toward her and... stared.

Horses didn't eat people. Right? Kayin resisted swallowing back the small lump forming in her throat. Inexplicable, she thought - she had not been afraid around horses in a very long time. But there was something about this steed which sent a shiver down her spine.

The first award was presented by Fuin, and it was reassuring that it should be her, a member of the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth. As the horse stomped for the winner, Kaylin did the same in Troelsfo's honor - after all, she had her hands full. She just made sure to be careful enough not to have anything spilling onto the ground.

After Troelsfo had been announced as the winner, something about the horse's gaze seemed to lose its edge, and Kaylin breathed out. Apparently, she had been holding her breath without realizing it. She kept herself from gawking, her eyes only widening slightly when the steed ate the umbrella and drank from the glass. It.. drank... from the glass. She could not quite keep the wonder from her expression. What a magnificent creature this was!

Her admiration for the stallion distracted her from the next presenter - which was probably a good thing, since Kaylin had all but vowed to kill the woman on sight, despite being ordered not to. She barely heard the name of the winner of the second award - it dimly registered. Yet the clapping and sudden noise at the name Zorzimril, made Kaylin call out: Hear hear! for the winner in question. To be sure, it was well deserved.

The magnificent creature in question eyeballed the treats in the bowl she was holding. Kaylin tried to discern what the stallion desired, but it was difficult to say for sure. Yet it was clear the horse was not planning on simply dipping its mouth into the bowl. No. He was more... sofisticated. Or wished to present himself that way in the public eye, at the very least.

Kaylin put the drink down for a moment, and as she watched the steedshe let her fingers hover over one treat, then the next. A strong sense of disapproval came over her when her fingers hovered over the batwings and the shellfish. The feeling lessened somewhat when she hovered over the cake which had been labeled WitchKing's Cauldron.
"This?" she asked of the stallion, taking the piece of the cake in hand and offering it to him on the palm of her hand. It felt almost disrespectful. "Should I get you a separate bowl for this?"

She dearly hoped she had taken the right food item. Somehow she got the impression that choosing the wrong one might end up badly for her. The nerves building in her gut thoroughly distracted her from the presence of the Mouth of Sauron on stage, until the very end of his presentation. After the sound of his voice had finally drawn her eyes to the stage, she stared. Woah. Mordor. It really did deliver. "Congrats, Fuin!" she called out, only to fall silent when the next presenter took the stage to applaud the winner of the best original poem category.

Kaylin wanted to cheer for Saranna! And inwardly, she did! But... her eyes narrowed in thought. Was that... who she thought it was? It couldn't be, right?

[Saranna]

Oh wow thank you - I am deeply touched and a bit sniffly to be so honoured. There are so many great writers on the Plaza, congratulations to the other nominees too. :)

[Aikári Salmarinian]

Utchuk

Some people were notorious drinkers and lay half sleeping and half babbling under the tables. His kind could do act sometimes on it too, this drunkenness to forget the cravings for attention that seldom was given by Lord Sauron. Today it was just an unattractive eye high in a tower. Melkor had been much more of a hero and a man to admire, than the lidless worm, who lost in his physical appearance long ago. Utchuk descended of this ancient forces in the north, adapted to the severe cold where all other species succumbed too. But humans had proven to be rather hardy as well. The weather was too hot and too damp out here. Utchuk drank the wine and looked at the man (Frost) approaching him. “Aarpies?” he asked with clear northern accent. “Prices I assume, for unknown efforts lord Sauron must have found amusing maybe?” It was a wild guess but from the looks those were prices. But the dragonlike sculptures weren’t Utchuk’s idea. Those creatures only played havoc in the north and were heavily hunted by both humans and uruks alike. At times they joined strength in those hunts.

“I would have refused them, from a slave of Melkor,” he placed his opinion unasked. “I price myself fortunate not to be on the list.” Yet he had been in the neighbourhood to visit for a moment, but he wouldn’t stay long. The humans of the south were different than those from the north. The zealous music was irritating in his ears. He put some light plugs in his ears not to hear the high notes. The heavy booms could be felt in the bones. “Where come you from, not knowing these prices either?” he asked curious in return. “My name is Utchuk and I come from the free lands over the Ered Mithrin and the icy wastes. For more than three months in winter we are shrouded in darkness, but the summers are reverse, all day light. There is lots of taiga in the uttermost north, Aannaar, Järvamaa, Korela, Sula and Komi lands. Mostly populated by men of the ice, but also my kind. Uttermost freedom there, no rulers who govern us. We govern ourselves out there, ruled by the harsh cold climate. There is a wandering wizard out there too.” It was good to talk to another person. Humans were better to digest than mindless scabbling and brainless orc slaves.

[Nessa Saelind]

The Right and Honourable Peregrin “Pippin” Took most stealthily presenting the award for Best Opening Post


“Going to Mordor!” cried Pippin. “I hope it won’t come to that!”

Alas, dear reader, it came to that. Not by choice, mind you. The Right and Honourable Peregrin “Pippin” Took had no intention whatsoever to go to Mordor. Folk might call him Fool of a Took behind his back and to his face, but Peregrin “Pippin” Took, son of Paladin Took, was no simpleton. He earnestly hoped it wouldn’t come to that… However, according to the opinion of the general public, the Right and Honourable Thain Peregrin, First of His Name, did a spectacular job presenting last year’s ARPYs which were held in Imladris. His reward for a job well done? A harder job. He was to present a few ARPYs at the ceremony in Mordor. Bloody Mordor of all places.


Now the Last Homely House, in Pippin’s not so humble, but certainly, honest opinion was the sort of place where a grand party, such as the ARPYs, should be held. You had singing elves, twinkling elven lights, a marvellous selection of beverages and food… The salted pork was particularly good, and the ale from the Green Dragon was just chef’s kiss. Mordor on the other hand… Mordor was a choice and not exactly the safest choice for Hobbits. You went there to forge a Ring of Power from the fires of Mount Doom or throw said shiny ring into said volcano, whichever you preferred. Mordor didn’t exactly radiate that black tie party vibe. Well, the volcano certainly didn’t radiate anything other than heat and lava, but that’s neither here nor there.


Despite his better judgement, Pippin came to Mordor. And he had a plan – an “Absolutely Fool of a Took-proof™” plan without the Emmentaler-sized holes in it. One would hope. He wore his stealthiest, but chicest black tie attire. A garment so black and needful as the night, covered with the cloak of the Galadhrim. Thus clad he successfully evaded detection (unless you had keen eyes that were by chance focused on the buffet table, then you might have noticed the large amounts of foodstuffs disappearing into one Hobbit) until the hour came for him to present the award for Best Opening Post.

It is my great pleasure to present the nominees for the Best Opening Post Category.

@Moriel for Anadûné: free Númenor RP

@Lailyn for Beneath the Boughs: Forest free RP

@Metatron Omega (Frost) for Children of the Stones: an Anthropology RPG

@Metatron Omega (Frost) for Dol Guldur: The Forest under Nightshade

@Silky Gooseness (Sil) for Fly the Fellowship! ån RP game

@The Black Serpent for The Lands of Harad

@Quill for Mereth en Turuhalmë: The Winter Ball

@Moriel for Minas Morgul: Free RP

@Nessa Saelind for Minas Tirith Marketplace II

@Metatron Omega (Frost) for The Far Lands of Rhûn

@Metatron Omega (Frost) for The Farthings and beyond: Shire free RP

@Zôrzimril (Tara) for The Lands of Arnor free RP







And the winner is...


@Quill for Mereth en Turuhalmë: The Winter Ball



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Congratulations Quill! And also let's give a round of applause to everyone nominated who did such splendid work on the OPs for their threads! And of course, as always, thank you to everyone that submitted their votes for this category!

[Fuin Elda]

She's slipped to go get something to eat from the tables and found a few things that weren't entirely questionable and was busy eating when it came time for her to present again, however she had mostly found acceptable food in the form of alcohol.

Of course this meant that there was an opening and as could be expected the three brothers took it. The three raccoon snuck over a jagged wall and into the back area of the stage and found an envelope ungarded and took it. They looked it over and realized what it was and headed to the stage with the envelope. Reginald the Third tried to take the envelope from Hob but it didn't work well and soon the two of them were fighting while Bob stood center stage with the envelope watching them fight for a moment before reading the envelope and began announcing it while his brothers fought though he wasn't sure how many understood him but that was a their problem as he chittered away loudly over the din of his brothers fighting.

"Nominees for the best Comedy Post are:
Aduchil as himself in the ARPY Ceremony and Party thread and Chily goes on a date with a Myconid from the Violentines thread

Bäckahästen (Rior) as the White Horse, from The Uhhhhhhh Spa threadl

Drifa as Drifa from the Treegarth of Orthanc thread

Fane Mordagnir as Legolas from the Fly the Fellowship! Thread

Frost as Fleeg? From The Great Egg Hunt and Jorgy in the ARPY Ceremony and Party thread

Menolly as Peep Peep from The Great Egg Hunt

Narv asNarv in The Far Reaches thread

Nessa as the Right and Honourable Peregrin Took from the Fly the Fellowship! Thread

Sil as Sookie from The Uhhhhhhh Spa thread andSil as the Snowy Owl

Tara (Zôrzimril) as Êmily in Thief Hunt Series V thread and Ursula the bear from the Bear-aoke at the Bar-Bearian and “A Spider’s Account of Two Idiots Causing Trouble” from the Meduseld Memories thread and Shroomîsh from the Violentines thread

Tuilindo (Lail) as Glorfindel and a birbGl from the Fly The Fellowship! Threadorfindel and Maecheneb and Durzhat, President, First Lady and Founding Father of the Fleeg Fan Club"

It took him a moment to break open the wax seal as he muttered about all these funny people while Reginald was chewing on Hobs ear and Hob was pulling on Reginald's tale both of them letting out one of the most annoying shrieks that mostly drowned out his mutterings as he popped the envelope open finally.

"Congratulations to Sil as Sookie with the caterbrow."
What was a caterbrow? They were just making things up now. He held out the award and to someone that looked like they were coming to accept it then worked on getting his brothers off the stage.

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[Drifa]

The awards kept pouring out, and the red carpet seemed to have become hot a bubbly under Drifa's boots. Her hair and beard were now a mass of limp wet strands clinging to her head and hanging from her chin. She had indulged in more ale and was now reasonably light-headed. The stench was becoming unbearable, though, with the smell of horse and orc wafting through the humid air. Everything looked limp as far as she was concerned, mainly the food on the table. She was glad she had eaten before she left her cool Mountain home. She had also brought nibbles for the journey back. Mind you, in what state they would be sitting in this heat; she had no clue.

She clapped for the last round of winners and wondered how many were left. Someone named her in Best Comedy Post. She was proud even to have been noted with the other nominees, all excellent writers. She swallowed another drink of ale and waited patiently in the heat for the show to go on.

[Silky Gooseness]

Bübosha flapped her hands together limply until her horny palms were numb. Although perhaps that had been the effect of the significant number of glasses she had imbibed already - not just the dark Harad wines she favoured, but she’d been obliged to confiscate (and drink) three Orcquilla Sunsets from her cousin Glügosha, who, according to form, had already glugged quite enough already and was threatening to puddle on the floor.

Someone was calling her name. Through the ringing in her ears, Bubösha wobbled up to her feet, sorting wildly through her envelopes as someone hissed in her ear. It was Sookie.

“And take me up there right now, you sot,” her caterpillar was drawling, “and take that award for me… No! The other way! I’ll bite yer ears off! What’s a caterbrow? Ah’m a caterbrow, you uncultured trash panda!”

Abandoning both Glügosha and her paperwork, Buboshà staggered up on the stage and blindly shook the hand of the … wait, was that a raccoon?

It chittered at her and passed her a rather heavy award. It clunked against her shins.

“Urgh,” said Bubösha coherently by way of acceptance speech, although in fact Sookie was squeakily declaiming a long epic about her struggles in life so far and how she was proud of her family and one day when she became a butterfly they’d all be applauding her on stage…

Bubôsha focused on the next envelope she held in her hands. Apparently, she had another award to deliver…

---

The Best Drama



1 Allacan is Old Mama Mute taking care of Allacan
@Allacan ob Burzum

2 Ama converses with Lail about the War and its consequences in the Cavalry Courtyard II thread

@Amadhrill

3 Cassie as Gwandhyra Harion from the Forsaken Inn thread

@Ercassie

4 Aig as Beren with Nessa from the Winter Is Come Inn thread

@Eriol

5 Frost in “Dusk, and Her Embrace” from The Lands of Arnor thread

@Frost

6 frost as Fezziwig “A-Wassailin’” from The Farthings and Beyond Thread

@Frost

7 Frost in “a Skin for Dancing In” from The Land of Shadow thread

@Frost

8 Frost in “The Sculptor of Flesh” from Minas Tirith (Northern Fiefdoms) thread

@Frost

9 Nerys in “Parting the Shadows (late TA)” from the City of Umbar thread

@I hate Eärendil

10 Lailyn (Kirinki) as Harlan

@Kirinki

11 Moriel in “Don’t Look Back” from AoA thread

@Moriel

12 Nessa in “The Silk, the Sheers – part I” in Life in the Mark – Mettarë

@Nessa Saelind

13 Nessa at table with a Byronic hero

@Nessa Saelind

14 Nessa as Kleon Ashford “Blut und Eisen” from the Buccaneers of Belfalas thread

@Nessa Saelind

15 Nia in Fields and Forests thread

@Nia

16 Vanlanthiriel(Ta’leus) as Boriel in “Searching for the Truth” from the MT Library thread

@Vanlanthiriel
17 Tara / Zôrzimril as the Kumiho in “Liver and Onions” from the Woodland Realm thread

@Zôrzimril

18 Zôrzimril /Tara’s entry in Fangorn’s short story competition thread

@Zôrzimril

19 Tara/Zôrzimril in “Of Stars and Smoke” from The City of Umbar thread

@Zôrzimril

20
“There Goes the Neighborhood” Kirinki/Lail as Durzhat from The Land of Shadow

@Kirinki

21 Windy as Sigrid from the Edoras Infirmary thread

@Winddancer

22 Windy in The Land of Shadow thread 1

@Winddancer

23 Windy in the Land of Shadow thread 2

@Winddancer

24 Windy as Dina from MT (Northern Fiefdoms) thread

@Winddancer
25 Kirinki/Lail as Hathaldir

@Kirinki

26 Fuin as young Mylien

@Fuin Elda
27 Moriel in Shadow’s Reach III

@Moriel
(for context, they have licked a toad)

28 Eriol(Aig) as Beren in the Winter Has Come Inn

@Eriol

29 Eriol (Aig) in A prelude to departure

@Eriol

---

“And the winner,” sang out Sookie sweetly, echoed more loudly by Buboshâ, “is the magnificent and talented @Moriel in Don’t Look Back!!”

And your sig award: https://i.imgur.com/P2fhkLG.jpg

[Pele Alarion]

She handed off the award and made sure not to spend more time than necessary on the stage - she had used the few moments while she stood there to take in the surroundings and found that even though most folk present seemed to be the usual Mordorian contingent, there were some that did not really look the part. The fact made Shamara curious, yet she did not know yet whether she wanted to avoid those people or investigate closer for her own purposes.

As soon as she was off the stage, the Umbarian headed for the drinks and acquired a large clay mug of Haradi wine. Taking a few sips to taste the drink, she decided that it was a bit too sour for her liking yet still drinkable. She weaved her way among the people and all sorts of other creatures quite masterfully, inconspicuously following someone she had decided to be of interest until she diverted her gaze to find herself way too close to a lady dressed in red who certainly looked like someone she would want to avoid.

Stopping in her tracks, Shamara took a swig of her wine and turned around on her heel to make it off into some safer spot and choose a different target of interest.

[Nessa Saelind]

The Right and Honourable Peregrin “Pippin” Took (once again being his most stealthy self) presents the award for Best Villain

The Right and Honourable Peregrin “Pippin” Took thought that his first ARPY award presentation of the evening went rather well. He managed to avoid the gaze of the lidless flaming Eye and its servants, look stealthy and stylish and take refreshments. But the hour grew late and he was due to present another ARPY category.

Before he peeled himself from the refreshment table Pippin glanced at his notes and let out a rather ungentlehobbitly snort. The category he was due to present was Best Villain. A hobbit presenting the ARPY for Best Villain. What will this Triumvirate think of next…

“Every story needs a villain. Villains are the characters we love to hate or hate to love. There are all sorts of villains – the annoying ones, the everyday ones, the arch-nemesis, Dark Lords, the clever and cunning ones… But tonight we celebrate the best of the Plaza Villains!”

The nominees for Best Villain Category


@Ercassie as Arkhadur Halsad

@Metatron Omega (Frost) as Frost

@Metatron Omega (Frost) Grandmother Scrimshaw

@Metatron Omega (Frost) as Trasander

@Metatron Omega as Pazuzu

@Isolde Alarion as Relic

@Zôrzimril(Tara) as Zôrzimril

@Zôrzimril(Tara) as Regdûsh

@Winddancer as Winddancer

@Winddancer as Ms Irma.

And the winner is...






@Winddancer as Ms Irma!




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Congrats Windy! This was one tough category, but Ms Irma is one tough cookie villain

[Fuin Elda]

Fuin was back to paying attention having drunk her fill and was back on stage having heard the raccoons and realizing what had happened she was in fact feeling a little sheepish about that but she was doing her best not to show that in the slightest. A straight back chin up a slight glance down her nose at those about her. She picked up the envelope for Best Canon character this was one she was quite happy to present. She stepped onto stage after Irma had been announced as the best Villian, she'd heard that woman in the house of healing once. It was... a well earned title.

"The following nominees were all brought forward for best canon character, it is hard to play a canon character. We all have a set image in our minds of what a character should and shouldn't do expecially in a canon setting. As such each of these nominees has done an amazing job with their characters even to be nominated.

BEST CANON CHARACTER

1. Ancalagon the Black as Suladan

2. Ercassie as Maeglin

3. Frost as Mairon

4. Frost as Ungoliant

5. Frost as Arwen

6.Moriel as Caranthir

7.Nessa as Pippin

8.Nia as Treebeard

9.Saranna as Sam Gamgee

10. Zôrzimril (Tara) as Ilmare and Yavanna

11. Tuilindo (Lail) as Nienna

12. Tuilindo (Lail) as Merry and Quickbeam

13. Fuin as Measse

And our Winner is by popular vote:
@Saranna as Sam Gamgee



Congratulations Saranna! You're welcome to make an acceptance post (whenever while this thread is active) and you are also welcome to adorn your signature with the following badge!

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[img]https://i.imgur.com/SELTj9M.jpg[/img]

[Drifa]

Three more winners and the noise at the gathering was reaching a crescendo, making Drifa's ears buzz on top of all the ale she had drunk. Her careful attempts to appear refined and dignified had all but washed away (literally). Hair and beard hung in sweaty tangles, the tiny rubies sparkling in the bat light. Her armpits made a wet flapping sound when she clapped for the winners, and her lovely blue skort clung to her thighs. But worst of all, her feet, her carefully manicured feet, felt like they were swimming in the muck in her fine leather boots. She was a mess.
But on the bright side, she could not help thinking between feeling sorry for herself and avoiding orcs, horses, and other strange beings and hoping the gala would soon be over. Her thoughts were mainly about using that new exfoliating brush that creative dwarves of the physic and remedy society had engineered. The tool, she heard, was easy to hold, easy to use, and even for sensitive skin. It had soft bristles that glided across one's skin with silky effectiveness and exfoliated evenly without causing any reddishness. She had ordered one and hoped it would be ready when she returned home. Which, she hoped, would be sooner than not. She could use the damn brush now; with the sweating and the heat, her pores must be wide enough for a small orc to hide, the filthy animals.

[Saranna]

Wow - the things that happen when you're away. This is delightful - I'm glad I'm back!

[Pele Alarion]

Shamara had only managed a few sips of the strong drink she had grabbed on the way, when an orc approached her with a request to go and present yet another award. The Umbarian could not help but roll her eyes at having to show up on the stage so many times, yet now it was also a welcome escape from an unwelcome presence.

"Yeah, fine. Going already," she grumbled, and holding a drink in one hand and an award in another, made hurried steps towards the stage.

She was not about to linger overly long though, so she stood somewhere near the centre of the stage and read out from the slip handed to her along with the award:

"The nominees for the category of the best character are as follows:

1. @Metatron Omega as Frost (No Link Provided)

2. Frost as Gisli

3. Frost as Eldûrien. (No Link Provided)

4. Frost as Yoshiyo

5. @I hate Eärendil (Nerys) as Syn

6. @Nessa Saelind as Matilda Hawthorn

7. Pele Alarion as Pele

8.@Rillewen As Strawberry

9. Rillewen as Calaedris

10. @Silky Gooseness as Silas Hardwick

11. Sil as Alcadir

12. @Zôrzimril (Tara) as Zôrzimril (No Links Provided)

13. @Zôrzimril (Tara) as Marceline (No Links Provided)

14. Zôrzimril(Tara) as Lôminzil

15. Zôrzimril(Tara) as Erniel

16. @Sparraqueen(Lail) as Hathaldir (No Links Provided)

17. @Winddancer as Dina and Berrik

18. @Winddancer as Sigrid (No Links Provided)

19. @Fuin Elda as Young Mylien

And... the WINNER is...

@Nessa Saelind as Matilda Hawthorn"



Congrats, Nessa! And here is your siggy badge!

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[img]https://i.imgur.com/RG1w6PV.jpg[/img]

[Arnyn]

Kaylin, human

Lady in Red

She'd caught more glimpses of the woman she couldn't believe was here. How? Then again, Kaylin was here as well. An Umbarian being present was hardly a stretch.

Kaylin had carefully left the steed in favor of trying to follow the familiar woman through the crowd. She still wasn't entirely sure it was her. Her line of sight kept getting blocked by someone or something, but when the woman took to the stage once more, Kaylin's face darkened.

There could be no mistake. Shamara.

Maybe Shamara had escaped her one too many times. Maybe the Umbarian had made the mistake of being involved in dealings targeting someone Kaylin cared about. Maybe it was the influence of the Eye. Whatever the exact reason, it did not change the outcome.

Kaylin saw red. And she wanted blood.

She made her way toward the stage with a singular focus.

[Silky Gooseness]

Bübosha had downed several drinks, but it wasn’t that she was drunk - it was just that it took a great deal of concentration to prevent her eyebrows crawling right off her head, especially when one of them was putting on airs and the other one was sulking. There was some sort of confrontation about to break out on stage: she could just tell. Honestly, it was a little late in the day for a Mordor party. She wobbled her way back onto the stage and unrolled her scroll...

Best RP-er

1. @Ercassie

2. @Metatron Omega (Frost)

3. @Fuin Elda

4. @Moriel

5. @Rillewen

6. @Hungry Hare (Lail)

7. @Winddancer

8. @Zôrzimril (Tara)

9. @Drifa

“And our glorious winner this year - completely and supremely deserved…”

Bubösha waited for a drum roll, but there was only the smashing of glass in the distance as two waiters wrestled someone to the ground.

“It’s Frost! Please come up onto the stage @Metatron Omega and accept your award.”

Signature link: https://i.imgur.com/Kurahl2.jpg

[Pele Alarion]

As Shamara waited with the prize to be given, she saw that the woman dressed all in red, Kaylin, no doubt, was purposefully heading straight for the stage.

"Oy vey, quick!" she exclaimed, and since there was no more time to wait for the recipient, she placed the prize right in the middle of the stage even as the next presenter came forward, and then took to heading off towards the opposite side of the stage from the angry looking Gondorian.

Jumping off the stage was not exactly the best choice with her dress, yet she managed to make it rather graceful as she landed in a crouch and then moved into a gentle roll as she lost her balance. Not that there was much room to roll exactly, and she came to rest at some orc's feet and received a kick to her side. Scrambling to her feet as quick as she could, she elbowed the nasty creature in the face as she said: "You have no manners! Get out of my way or else..." The dumb creature rubbed his nose and did not move, and Shamara searched for a way around him casting a glance across her shoulder to see Kaylin's whereabouts.

[Nessa Saelind]

Before I present the award for Best GM, may I just say a huge thank you to anyone who thought Matilda, my nurse character, was good enough to be nominated for an ARPY award and thank you for voting for me and her. I know I'm not around much this year because of a lot of things, but thank you so much for this - it means a lot.

The Right and Honourable Peregrin “Pippin” Took (once again being his most stealthy self) presents the award for Best GM

Three more awards were presented and cheers and applause for the winners were given before Pippin needed to stealthily, but stylishly climb up the stage and present another award.

“GM s are creative masterminds behind many a campaign and game. They run a tight shipwreck, keep the peace, bring order from chaos and sometimes, but just sometimes bring chaos from order. :D They make sure all those rubber ducks and players are right where they need to be. As always, it is my honour to present the nominees for this year’s ARPY for Best GM!”

The nominees for Best GM Category

1. @Drifa for Athelas - The Quest - Word Sleuth RP

2. @Fuin Elda for IK Racing- Season 1 CHAMPIONS

3. @Fuin Elda @Nessa Saelind and @Silky Gooseness (Sil) for ARPY Ceremony & Party

4. @Istya Alassea for Re-opening The Strawberrystar Brewery

5. @Silky Gooseness (Sil) Fly The Fellowship! ån RP game

And the winner is...






@Silky Gooseness (Sil) Fly The Fellowship! ån RP game



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https://i.imgur.com/BZNrg35.jpg

Congrats Sil!

[Fuin Elda]

The ceremonies were coming closer and closer to completion, indeed there were but a handful of awards left, Fuin thought to herself as she picked up the last envelope that was hers to present and nodded to her companions, both on the stage already handing out and receiving the last award. She stepped onto the stage having given Sil a round of applause and waited a moment.

"Not all stories are big ones, consisting of large casts, and grande scales beyond imagine. Some are small, perhaps they only affect a single household, or lovers or a group of friends, not even a full community, but that does not take away from the power of those stories, sometimes they are stronger because they are so very intimate that they can tug on our hearts as much if not more because often we can feel ourselves in them for they are not so very large.

The nominees for Best Small Collaboration are:

1. @Amadhrill and @Pele Alarion in Two healers meet A Rohir healer arrives in the Houses of Healing and is well met by her Gondorian colleague

2. @Ercassie and @Pele Alarion in Old friends meet in The Old Guesthouse

3. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and @Moriel in Rembina a tale of Davos Seaworth and his ward, Finnbarr Galedeep

4. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and @Silky Gooseness (Sil) in Cave of Whispers

5. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and @Zôrzimril (Tara) in Of Stars and Smoke

6. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and @Zôrzimril (Tara) in What Have You Done?

7. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and@Zôrzimril (Tara) in Dusk, and Her Embrace – “Frost and Zôr discover the depths of their genderfluidity.”

8. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and@Zôrzimrilril (Tara) in Jorgy Comes Out

9. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and@Zôrzimril(Tara) in Liver and Onions Fjörn, The Edge of the Greenwood, SA 1000 The Kumiho, The Edge of the Greenwood, SA 1000

10. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and @Hungry Hare (Lail) in It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Mettarë

11. @Randall Flagg (Frost) and@Winddancer in The Land of Shadows two creators meet, great writing ensues

12. @Fuin Elda and @Nessa Saelind in Of elven Grandmothers, Secondborn healers and looking life in the face Revered Grandmother and a bath challenge A recovery interrupted by dark wings One for sorrow

13. @Rillewen , @Ercassie and @Fuin Elda in Shadows in the Night

14. @Rillewen ,@Ercassie and @Pele Alarionin Witchwood Cottage

15.@Rune Eisahn and @Pele Alarion in A ranger returns to HQ

16. @Hungry Hare (Lail) and @Amadhrill in Soldier’s Heart – a former cavalry member (Lail) has a heart to heart about PTSD with the Cavalry’s hælend

17.@Hungry Hare (Lail) and @Zôrzimril (Tara) in A chance meeting in the Library. Or is it?

18. @Winddancer and @Zôrzimril (Tara) in A family affair


And the winner is...

@Hungry Hare (Lail) and @Amadhrill in Soldier’s Heart



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[img]https://i.imgur.com/h5cY00z.jpg[/img]

Congratulations to both of you!

[Drifa]

An orc and then a Hobbit (of all people) read Drifa's name from the list of nominees, but the competition exceeded her capabilities, and she was not a winner. She was not much of a writer, to be honest. She was honoured, though, just to be named. She flapped her wet armpits for the winners and wondered once more when this event would end. Aye, it was sweltering hot in Mordor and even more so on the red carpet. But soon, the snow would be flying near her Mountain home. And she wasn't a horse that could gallop her way there. And she had no intentions of spending the winter in Mordor (although some would find it a tropical paradise, ha!) One more cup of ale, and then she would have to sneak off regardless of when the event ended.
As she maneuvered her way around the orcs and others to the drinks, she was in a better mood suddenly, knowing she would be leaving and bowed (of all things) to the gross-looking orc that served the drinks exclaiming.
"One more for the Dwarf!'

[Nessa Saelind]

The Right and Honourable Peregrin “Pippin” Took presenting the penultimate award for this evening – Best Game

The ARPY ceremony was coming to a close; there were only 2 more awards to present and Pippin was presenting one of them. So once again the hobbit braved his way to the podium to do a most spectacular presentation.

“Games – we all love them! They’re great fun until the GM rolls the dice and suddenly you’re surrounded by cave trolls wielding broadswords while a volcano just erupted on your left... And now how in the fluff are you getting out of this one huh?
Regardless, it is my great pleasure to be here again and to present the ARPY award for Best Game! Before we find out which game, you dear fellows, decided is the best with the strength of your votes… Let us see which games were nominated for this prestigious award.”

The nominees for Best Game Category

@Silky Gooseness for Fly The Fellowship! ån RP game

@Menolly for If I Fits, I Sits (A Halloween game)

@Silky Gooseness for PROTECT MY NUTS (ån RP Game)

@Silky Gooseness for Round Up! Ån RP Game

And the winner is...






@Menolly for If I Fits, I Sits (A Halloween game)



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https://i.imgur.com/s2AsXX7.jpg

Congrats Menolly!

[Dungeon Delver]

How much had he been drinking now? Frost didn’t know and, if he were being honest, he didn’t really care. Drinking was the only way he was able to make it through these pseudo-festive events. He looked around and the more he drank the more the decorations looked buffoonishly silly. ‘Evil’ really had an aesthetic, didn’t it? Well, maybe some person’s interpretation of evil. The darker and more sinister the better, right? Skulls and bats and cobwebs of doom aplenty, oh my. Farcical. If someone wanted to see evil, they need just take a stroll through the White City. White does not mean good, not by any stretch of the imagination. Poverty. Homelessness. Hunger. Religious and racial segregation. An upper class that refused to acknowledge that a lower class even existed. No orcs in sight sure, but evil does not always were an ugly, scary mask, Frost groaned, unlike the decorators of this fete.

How much did it cost to put on something like this? Décor, food, service, location, all of that was expensive. The better question, probably, was not how much this cost, but who was paying for this. Zigûr? Surely not. He was as humorless as a hernia. Frost put a hand on his stomach reflexively at that thought. He was also nowhere to be seen. Why pay for something and not show up in some sort of grandiose and malevolent fashion? Zigûr had very little humor, but what he lacked there he made up for in narcissism. Frost sneered and drank another mouthful of whisky. It burned as it passed through his throat. Frost had a very, very strong feeling that Mairon would not deign to enter this soiree. He would bet quite a lot. What would be the point?

The presentations came and went, Frost barely paid attention to any of them. None of them interested him. Nothing interested him here. He drank more and more and more. The room and the evening, though, did not gain any sort of amusement for him. At least there was a guest willing to talk to him.

“By and large,” he said agreeably, “I would say you are right about humans from the north and the south. They are quite different. Irritating to no end, but in their own special ways. Those of the east too. The further east you go the less Númenórean influence you see, but a human, or an elf or a dwarf,” he looked at his orkish companion and shrugged, “or an orc, is still just that. Irritable and irritating.”

East. Now there was an idea. He could go east. He could gather up his family, all his daughters and all his family, and move out to the east, away from the puritanical, insular glowing lights of Middle-earth. That didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. Sure, some of his daughters would be less willing to go than others, but some, Harnril, Ella, or Katla, would jump at the chance. They all needed a chance to start over and building their life the way they needed, even if that meant it was far away from all they’d known before.

“Well, Utchuk, it is good to meet you.” He brought himself out of his fantasy, shelving it for after this evening’s torments were over. “You may call me Frost. I’m from Umbar but most of my time is spent travelling to places other than Mordor. I spent a significant time in my youth in the Forodwaith amongst some distant relatives. I think I much prefer the burning cold to…” he waved his hand at all the tawdry and garish décor, “all of this.”

He was about to get something more to drink… what? They called his name? How did… how did any of them even know he was coming? An uneasy feeling grew in his inebriated gut. He growled and rolled his eyes. He’d won something. Yay?

“Well, Utchuk, my new friend, if you will excuse me for a moment, apparently I have something I need to deal with.”

He walked to the stage and looked out at the sparse attendance he could see in the glare of the light. Surely there were more he just couldn’t see, right? He laughed to himself. This party needed something to liven it up. It was as dead as the tombs of the kings in the north, greedy ghosts drifting back and forth ignoring each other in favor of something new and shiny, and sanguine.

He dearly missed his violin at this moment. He could have used it to entrance the crowd and, well what would he have done with them other than given them horrible nightmares of spiders invading every crack and crevice of their being? He was sure he’d done that to a few that were milling about, pretending to important. The heroes never realized they aren’t the heroes until the end.

There was a guitar though. He smirked and picked it up, strumming a few notes on it before an idea came into his head. Orcs were behind the drums and one was playing an upright bass of all things. Wonderous weirdness.

“Any of you know J-M-B?”

They nodded, looking at him with looks of dawning realization. They smiled.

The music started out with an easy, almost bouncy syncopation, something to loosen the hips. J-M-B was all about improvisation with rhythm.

There's no way out, they carved your name
They called you out to cause you pain, oh
– His voice was smooth and sultry, inviting those in the crowd with any sort of life in them to move, then…

Krieglein, Krieglein in dem Land
Male mir den neusten Teufel an die Wand, ich seh
Dich sterben und lache mich tot
Dich sterben und lache mich tot
I say nothing you're about to mull over
I say nothing you're about to mull over
– his voice went feral with the rest of the music, his voice reaching a screeching, menacing resonance

Go live your lie and I'll live mine
A vengeful sigh, an awful time
For you
– his voice and the music instantly reverted to the deceptively friendly, rhythmic, sultry sound until…

Krieglein, Krieglein in dem Land
Male mir den neusten Teufel an die Wand, ich seh
Dich sterben und lache mich tot
Dich sterben und lache mich tot
I say nothing you're about to mull over
I say nothing you're about to mull over
– and his voice and the song regained the sinister kinetic movement that his blackened heart so loved, the music stayed that some syncopated, lively rhythm but twinged with bestial malevolence, in sort he enjoyed himself.

Once the song was over and he accepted whatever it was he’d accepted, he returned to his orc companion. “Apologies for that. This place needed a little livening up. I hope that music was a little more to your liking that what they’d been forced to play before. So, Utuck. What could pull an orc free of… Zigûr, back to this cesspool? Surely if you are free of the need for all this pomp and celebratory conflagration then this must be a hell indeed.”

OOC:*Lyrics taken from J-M-B, by Zeal & Ardor*

[Silky Gooseness]

It was time for the final award of the show. Well sozzled, it took more time for Bûbosha to find the stage as usual: despite the fact she’d ascended it a couple of times in the night already. Sookie was just as overwhelmed and was threatening to droop right off Bübosha’s face, lending her the unfortunate appearance of someone who had recently suffered nerve damage. (This was also one of the potential side effects from imbibing Screaming Ringwraith.)

Having paused to listen to an impromptu guitar solo, sending out its haunted wail across the crowds, the little goblin finally clattered up the stage to announce the final award:

Best RPG

“The nominees are as follows:

1. For the Athelas - The Quest - Word Sleuth


2. Lindon Masquerade | Spring Ball

3.Round Up!

4. ARPY Ceremony and Party

“And drumroll…”

Someone obligingly made a series of thuds. It was a troll, rhythmically knocking a patron’s head into the table.

“The winner is: Athelas, Word Sleuth! @Drifa, please come up and collect the award!

Sig image: https://i.imgur.com/VUfznoW.jpg

[Drifa]

As she stealthily sloshed (her beautiful feet in her fine leather boots slick with sweat) her way off the red carpet toward home, she heard a small yet harsh voice (goblin, she guessed) call out her name, announcing that she had won for best RPG. She slid in her boots as she came to a halt and turned to face the stage. She could not see it over the heads of the others (short dwarf), but she knew where it lay. Staring through the pulse of attendees, she couldn't help thinking, had it been a mistake? Was her brain muddled with ale? Had she sweated herself into dehydration, making her confused? But no. She knew her name and knew that it had been called out. She had to reach the stage. Turning her back on the journey home, she did so.

Pushing her way between the crowd, she came to the stage and stood before it. There the small goblin that had announced her name waited. Damn, but they were pitiful-looking creatures. This one looked like its skin was hanging off its bones sideways. As she was just about to step on the stage, a thought occurred to her, and she slipped in her boots once more as she stopped, one booted foot in midair. How was she to address this creature? With her axe (although she was not a fighter), which was the usual way when a dwarf met their worse foe? Of with a sharp tongue? She knew the latter would win the day and end this charade. But who would have thought that a dwarf would accept an award from a goblin? Times were indeed changing.

Stepping up, she bowed low, her damp hair and beard pulling her head even lower than usual, and took the award gingerly from the creature, not wishing to touch its hand and said.
'My thanks, you ugly brute!" Not the sharpest tongue-lashing, but she was ready for home and not up to the challenge of cursing this creature out. Then, quite sincerely, she turned to the crowd and exclaimed.
"Thank you! Thank you very much! I am honoured to be part of such talented people and" eyeing the goblin, "eh, brutes! And so is my alter ego, Afird Splitax, who made Athelas - The Quest his own! Thank you once more!"
She bowed again, then looked at her award. It was a lovely piece of craftsmanship. Then she put the award in her leather travelling bag. She left the stage, the red carpet, and the humid surroundings. Soon she was smiling. The ceremony was over, and she would leave the Land of Mordor far behind her.

*Thanks for the votes! I appreciate it!*