Elendor
(Archive) From the Swamps of Enedwaith
Two arch enemies meet randomly after fifteen years apart.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: The Greenway Crossing
Game Date: March 24, 3032
IC Time: Nighttime
Weather: Rainy
Description: The Greenway Crossing
The Greenway Crossing stands as the meeting point for the Greenway and the Great East Road. The Greenway stretches north and south for many miles more than the eye can absorb, and the Great East Road continues to the west to the same degree. To the east, just beyond this juncture in fact, stands a gate. With the sun now asleep behind the horizon, the gate which heads east into the village of Bree stands closed. Nearby stands a night watchman who guards it closely.
Contents:
Vardaen
Road Sign
Obvious exits:
South, East, North, and West
--------------------------------Isengard Time---------------------------------
Real time is: Thu May 20 18:12:12 2004 - Elendor time is
Nighttime on a Rainy Spring Sterday, March 24, 3032
The Moon's Phase is: new
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rain falls in sheets pounding the earth here at the crossroads of the Greenway. The new moon is hidden behind dark ominous clouds that continue to empty their contents on those foolhardy enough to be caught outside tonight. A lone rider plods along the road from the south, his horse sneezing and snuffling in the cold spring rain. The figure is wrapped in heavy white robes that hide his face. Soaked as they are however they cling tightly to his body, armor, shield, sword, all these things are clearly outlined by the tight cloth. Heavy hooves pound the mud, kicking up waves of rain on the road. The rider finally matches his mount and sneezes.
This night does not favor the traveler, save they stay inside the comforts of an inn, near its warmth and fire. Alas, there are no inns close by, and the night's cold rain is all that a man might get. The ground is soaked, and it appears that the rains have fallen for some time, as muddy water and bugs litter the crossing.
There is thunder, but no lightening, instead something totally unexpeced cross the road's edge. A voice.
"Greetings," someone says. First, one might think it simply strange that there is another, apparantly hidden in the darkness, would sit upon the roadside. A bandit perhaps? Wait ... that voice. No bandit indeed! But a Bandit King. Thought dead by most every living soul. A nightmare!?! A ghost story parents tell their children ...
The rider gives a shiver atop his large war horse at the voice. "I have passed beyond the Barrow Downs and yet a wraith still haunts me?" The rider's voice too is something of a memory out of ages past. The rain continues falling, obscurring sight even further in the darkness of the night. The horse and rider come to a stop. "Forgive me rudness, but you will not hold it against me if I do not give you welcome greetings this night. Travelers must be warry these days." There was something in that bandit's voice that has stirred hidden corners of the man's mind, everything is shoutinf Danger, but something holds his hand from going for his sword.
The figure steps forth, and perhaps now and outline of his fame can be seen. Certainly he wears dark clothing, and what is his fame is muddled by the loose garmet that surrounds him.
He carries something, but it appears a staff, not a "weapon". "There is not excuse for it," the gruff voice says, obviously the weather eating at his health as well. "If I were a simple traveller I would have fled, or turned to defend myself."
Here is silence, and a quiet sniveling laughter. Oh the memories that must flood back into ones mind. That laugh ... that crazed, meglomanic, demented laugh ...
"What are you doing so far from Isengard?"
With a flash Vardaen's hand grabs the pommel of his sword and he draws the weapon. With clenched teeth he hisses a name, "Tet'nak..." As if in response of some curse the horse begins to buck rearing up on its hind legs kicking with its front. As if a ghost was before him the warhorse continues its snorting until Vardaen can bring it undercontrol. "...you are dead." He levels his sword at the man that for so many years was his arch-enemy.
"We are near my old home, the Barrow Downs." The man takes another step forward, finally, you can see much more of him. He is cloaked in black, unlike "Tet'Nak" who was always cloaked in gray, and he carries a staff. It is anyone's guess as to his garments or weapons bellow the cloak.
"I am not dead. Do you think peasants could truly destroy one such as I?" He spits, "That is why you never could destroy me for so many years."
You catch the white's of his teeth reflecting from the moonlight. A wide smile at the relief of a joke at Vardaen's expense. It has been fifteen years since the last.
Vardaen sheaths his sword not that its clear it is a man before him and not some ghost. "You never understood did you Tet'nak? You were never ment to die, that why I never killed you. Saruman had other uses for you that you served quite well without ever knowning it. Until you were ripped apart by that mob, that is" He himself is dressed all in white these days, unlike the grey he too used to wear. "Seems that you had everyone fooled, but 15 years? Where have you been? Its been damn lonely around Eiriador without you." He too gives the slightly of laughs.
"Saruman," Tet'Nak says, the name rolling off his tongue as if he had not spoken it in years. "I remember the wizard. The foul orc loving wizard." His smile fades, "You are still his puppet then?" He nods, shrugging as he starts his story.
"Enedwaith. The swamps are damn vile. But the people are easy to break and control."
Tet'Nak smiles once again. "You should have visited gravedigger. Your services were often needed."
Vardaen looks down from his horse at Tet'nak, "I am a gravedigger no longer, nor have I been for years Hunter. Nor would I speak so opening in disgust of The White wizard if you value the new found life you have. Your usefullness to him ended when you died all those years ago." The rain continues to pound on him. The man seems older, this year he will celebrate his 50th year and it shows on his face at times. "My bones ache, this cold rain does me no good. Either head back into that swamp of your /Lord Hunter/ or come with me to Bree and The Prancing Pony."
"Vardaen," starts Tet'Nak, "I never grow tired of your threats." He sighs, "The wizard is an upstanding young man." He lifts the staff as well as his shoulders. "Better?"
He looks to the north, "Bree?" His face turns into a scowl, "I hate Bree. But very well. I shall accompany you."
Vardaen shakes his head, "Fifteen years of swamp life hasn't changed you any, suprisingly." He begins to move his horse toward Bree. "I'm meeting a few friends in Bree. Yes agents of Saruman, so keep your mouth closed about it if you can manage it. Perhaps 'the wizard' will have a new use for you and you can get out of that swamp of yours." He looks the man over, "You don't look too well Tet'nak. Age hasn't been kind to either of us it would seem."
Tet'Nak walks off the road, and into some tree growth. When he returns he is pulling a steed of some kind.
"When I was younger I passed as a horse breeder," he says, mounting the beast, and groaning afterward. "I am old. My sword arm is not as strong, and legs not as fast, but I have lost none of the lust for death and power." He looks over at the older man, "That is why I have returned."
Vardaen looks across at his arch-enemy, time has simply worn away the hatred. "I have fallen into darkness, and nearly did not recover, save for the will of Saruman. Renewed fire burns in my heart and my mind, but my joint hate this rain." The two make their way toward Bree, "Did you know I had the crown in Dunland for a time? What a bunch of idiots in that backwater piece of Middle-eath. Come old enemy, lets find some trouble to get into and become new friends."
The Greenway Crossing stands as the meeting point for the Greenway and the Great East Road. The Greenway stretches north and south for many miles more than the eye can absorb, and the Great East Road continues to the west to the same degree. To the east, just beyond this juncture in fact, stands a gate. With the sun now asleep behind the horizon, the gate which heads east into the village of Bree stands closed. Nearby stands a night watchman who guards it closely.
Contents:
Vardaen
Road Sign
Obvious exits:
South, East, North, and West
--------------------------------Isengard Time---------------------------------
Real time is: Thu May 20 18:12:12 2004 - Elendor time is
Nighttime on a Rainy Spring Sterday, March 24, 3032
The Moon's Phase is: new
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rain falls in sheets pounding the earth here at the crossroads of the Greenway. The new moon is hidden behind dark ominous clouds that continue to empty their contents on those foolhardy enough to be caught outside tonight. A lone rider plods along the road from the south, his horse sneezing and snuffling in the cold spring rain. The figure is wrapped in heavy white robes that hide his face. Soaked as they are however they cling tightly to his body, armor, shield, sword, all these things are clearly outlined by the tight cloth. Heavy hooves pound the mud, kicking up waves of rain on the road. The rider finally matches his mount and sneezes.
This night does not favor the traveler, save they stay inside the comforts of an inn, near its warmth and fire. Alas, there are no inns close by, and the night's cold rain is all that a man might get. The ground is soaked, and it appears that the rains have fallen for some time, as muddy water and bugs litter the crossing.
There is thunder, but no lightening, instead something totally unexpeced cross the road's edge. A voice.
"Greetings," someone says. First, one might think it simply strange that there is another, apparantly hidden in the darkness, would sit upon the roadside. A bandit perhaps? Wait ... that voice. No bandit indeed! But a Bandit King. Thought dead by most every living soul. A nightmare!?! A ghost story parents tell their children ...
The rider gives a shiver atop his large war horse at the voice. "I have passed beyond the Barrow Downs and yet a wraith still haunts me?" The rider's voice too is something of a memory out of ages past. The rain continues falling, obscurring sight even further in the darkness of the night. The horse and rider come to a stop. "Forgive me rudness, but you will not hold it against me if I do not give you welcome greetings this night. Travelers must be warry these days." There was something in that bandit's voice that has stirred hidden corners of the man's mind, everything is shoutinf Danger, but something holds his hand from going for his sword.
The figure steps forth, and perhaps now and outline of his fame can be seen. Certainly he wears dark clothing, and what is his fame is muddled by the loose garmet that surrounds him.
He carries something, but it appears a staff, not a "weapon". "There is not excuse for it," the gruff voice says, obviously the weather eating at his health as well. "If I were a simple traveller I would have fled, or turned to defend myself."
Here is silence, and a quiet sniveling laughter. Oh the memories that must flood back into ones mind. That laugh ... that crazed, meglomanic, demented laugh ...
"What are you doing so far from Isengard?"
With a flash Vardaen's hand grabs the pommel of his sword and he draws the weapon. With clenched teeth he hisses a name, "Tet'nak..." As if in response of some curse the horse begins to buck rearing up on its hind legs kicking with its front. As if a ghost was before him the warhorse continues its snorting until Vardaen can bring it undercontrol. "...you are dead." He levels his sword at the man that for so many years was his arch-enemy.
"We are near my old home, the Barrow Downs." The man takes another step forward, finally, you can see much more of him. He is cloaked in black, unlike "Tet'Nak" who was always cloaked in gray, and he carries a staff. It is anyone's guess as to his garments or weapons bellow the cloak.
"I am not dead. Do you think peasants could truly destroy one such as I?" He spits, "That is why you never could destroy me for so many years."
You catch the white's of his teeth reflecting from the moonlight. A wide smile at the relief of a joke at Vardaen's expense. It has been fifteen years since the last.
Vardaen sheaths his sword not that its clear it is a man before him and not some ghost. "You never understood did you Tet'nak? You were never ment to die, that why I never killed you. Saruman had other uses for you that you served quite well without ever knowning it. Until you were ripped apart by that mob, that is" He himself is dressed all in white these days, unlike the grey he too used to wear. "Seems that you had everyone fooled, but 15 years? Where have you been? Its been damn lonely around Eiriador without you." He too gives the slightly of laughs.
"Saruman," Tet'Nak says, the name rolling off his tongue as if he had not spoken it in years. "I remember the wizard. The foul orc loving wizard." His smile fades, "You are still his puppet then?" He nods, shrugging as he starts his story.
"Enedwaith. The swamps are damn vile. But the people are easy to break and control."
Tet'Nak smiles once again. "You should have visited gravedigger. Your services were often needed."
Vardaen looks down from his horse at Tet'nak, "I am a gravedigger no longer, nor have I been for years Hunter. Nor would I speak so opening in disgust of The White wizard if you value the new found life you have. Your usefullness to him ended when you died all those years ago." The rain continues to pound on him. The man seems older, this year he will celebrate his 50th year and it shows on his face at times. "My bones ache, this cold rain does me no good. Either head back into that swamp of your /Lord Hunter/ or come with me to Bree and The Prancing Pony."
"Vardaen," starts Tet'Nak, "I never grow tired of your threats." He sighs, "The wizard is an upstanding young man." He lifts the staff as well as his shoulders. "Better?"
He looks to the north, "Bree?" His face turns into a scowl, "I hate Bree. But very well. I shall accompany you."
Vardaen shakes his head, "Fifteen years of swamp life hasn't changed you any, suprisingly." He begins to move his horse toward Bree. "I'm meeting a few friends in Bree. Yes agents of Saruman, so keep your mouth closed about it if you can manage it. Perhaps 'the wizard' will have a new use for you and you can get out of that swamp of yours." He looks the man over, "You don't look too well Tet'nak. Age hasn't been kind to either of us it would seem."
Tet'Nak walks off the road, and into some tree growth. When he returns he is pulling a steed of some kind.
"When I was younger I passed as a horse breeder," he says, mounting the beast, and groaning afterward. "I am old. My sword arm is not as strong, and legs not as fast, but I have lost none of the lust for death and power." He looks over at the older man, "That is why I have returned."
Vardaen looks across at his arch-enemy, time has simply worn away the hatred. "I have fallen into darkness, and nearly did not recover, save for the will of Saruman. Renewed fire burns in my heart and my mind, but my joint hate this rain." The two make their way toward Bree, "Did you know I had the crown in Dunland for a time? What a bunch of idiots in that backwater piece of Middle-eath. Come old enemy, lets find some trouble to get into and become new friends."
Players: Vardaen, Tet'Nak
Located in: Dunlending | Isendrim
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