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Thread: The Rhunic Threat

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Welcome to this RPG forum (one I hope has some success). I want the theme of this RPG to be about the war in that was fought in the north of Middle Earth against Rhun, or the Easterling threat. I am hoping that the three different races and different countries that inhabit the lands around and within Dale will provide a great malleability when it comes to character customization allowing some personal influences on the way they are 'allowed' to be (given cannon restrictions of Arda). So I am hoping that this can be of moderate success and we can enjoy time influencing the way the story ends. I hope to create and cultivate a story worthy of a readers recognition. P.S if there are any questions or uncertainties as to what or how to apoach this, I am more than happy to answer them (or try at the very least). Gror Falkbeard of hefty beardness

The short stout figure moved through the plains, mounted on a small pony. He was armed to the teeth and clad in heavy mail and shod in tough leather. His auburn hair and beard flowed down his chest and shoulders, wearing many braids in which hours of work lay. He was a sight to behold regardless of his height. He was known by the men of Dale as 'messenger' and by the dwarfs of Erebor as Fili Firebeam...

Gror you are a natural storyteller and I'd like to contribute at least something to this thread, so when I can I will!

Thanks for the praise Balrogs. I would love you have you contributing to this RPG thread; that would make my day!!

The situation had been much worse than Fili had feared. Sauron was indeed at work, and deception was his tool. The message he had sent from Mordor was nothing but a facade to throw over his true intentions. The young dwarf had now the knowledge of Rhunic movement to the south-east, Dorwinion would be the first to fall; it was imperative that King Dain Ironfoot knew of Sauron's plans before he made any terms with the messenger.

I'd love to participate, but I have so little time (posting this at 1AM in between homework assignment). However, in about two weeks my schedule may clear up a bit. For a small amount of time. Till then, know that I at least wish I could be more supportive here.

No problem mate, Its all about priority and it sounds like you've got it right!

I'll await some ones post to begin, like I said, I have a lot of time so there's no hurry Smile Smilie

I'm up for some RPG. Will make a post later on. Big Smile Smilie

Fantastic! Happy to hear it Thorin 

Like I said, I will await the first story-based comment before I reengage in it myself; otherwise it may look a bit weird :p

Gror, do we control only one character or an army/regiment/etc...?

That's a fine question Thorin! I myself am going to write for a character who commands respect in the world of Middle Earth... That would mean I should have control over more than just one individual. That is what I would suggest doing if I were you, however if you want to command a body of men/elves/dwarves/orcs feel free to do so Big Smile Smilie This is quite the learning curve for me so I hope that is a sufficient answer

As the ash fell like snow over the peaks of the ered lithui, Shak-Karan sat in a shallow cave, staring into the distance over the black mountains as they slowly faded into the barren desert beneath the Sea of Rhun. Once word spread the dark lord was returning, the Rhunic tribes united in an attempt to gain Mordor’s friendship and help conquer the west. To maintain this reforged alliance the Easterlings sent the fearsome wainriders to serve their new master. Initially, the kings had sent 100 of their best; now, only one remained.

For nearly a year he'd been working in the service of Sauron, his band usually patrolling the northern rim of the ered lithui for any sign of the enemy, which generally meant anything that moved. Over the first few months they had spread out into camps of twenty men, arranged with just enough space between to allow them to monitor most of the northeastern border of Mordor. This worked quite well for a while, as they'd hunt down the occasional straggler, refugee, or lost traveler. It had been emphasized to not let anything through, as Gondor spies are skillful liars and known for their deception.

Everything seemed to be going well and the vicious men enjoyed their wicked past times, sometimes traveling to nearby peasant villages. But suddenly the camp farthest east lost contact. And the next farthest within a week. Finally after Commander Sharaz sent a new envoy that never returned, he ordered the remaining three camps to combine forces and fortify a central camp. Yet only two armies arrived at the new location. As most of the riders who ventured out never returned, the rest remained holed up and held their secured position, waiting for whatever may come. And then, one night, they came. Their long beards flowing over their plate armor, with fiery eyes and axes made of unbreakable steel. Then as quickly as they came, they were gone. And Shak-Karan was alone among the slaughtered. Now, the question is why?

The gates swung open into the kingdom of Erebor, the hinges obediently holding the stone doors. Grimly clad guards looked down from the parapet above at the dwarf below. His auburn hair was like a stream of blood, flowing down his face; whilst his silver eyes glowed softly in the still night. He embodied a warrior both youthful and foolhardy. Many of the dwarves had to remind themselves he was, at this point, just a messenger homecoming from the city of Dale.

Fili Firebeam waited patiently before entering into the gate, which emitted a warm light from within. The streets were subdued by the present night that failed to encroach upon the heart of the mountain; warm light was not at a shortage. Dismounting his trusty pony, the young Firebeam pressed his way deeper into the heart of the city. The news he bore could wait for the morn, but he still felt his job would not be complete until his feet were laid on the king’s table and in his mouth sat a dwarven pipe.

King Dain Ironfoot’s retinue admitted the messenger into the monarch’s dwelling; exchanging fearful glances as he past. Sitting on the nearest chair, the auburn-haired dwarf lit his filled pipe. The morning would come.

Night, Eastern Plains, Dale East

A wild cry broke the silence of the night. Rohir, sat up, startled out of his sleep. The cry came again, louder and desperate. He shook himself up and crept to the window of his shack. His still sleepy face was illuminated by the lights of fires. Suddenly it dawned to him. Running to his bed, he quickly girded himself with his sword, swung his quiver on his back, grabbed him hunting bow and was out in the chaos and confusion.

As deep night had fallen on the settlement and the lone watchmen had snuggled in his outpost, the goblins had crept up and attempted to scale the wooden pallisade. It was all going to plan until one of the wooden beams cracked and burst taking the goblin with him.

Rohir darted towards the cries. As he ran, panicked men, women and children were trying to get away from the attackers. Spotting one of the guards he boomed, "Gather all those who can fight, get out the weapons and meet me at the east wall." Before the guard could answer he was gone. The settlement was at most populated by 100 men and women from Dale who reared cattle and beats on the wide green plains. King Brand had encouraged such settlements as a means to feeding his people and claiming these wide land for Dale. Rohir, and his garrison of 10 men were appointed as guards for the settlement. Since the great war a generation ago these lands had been relatively safe.

Arriving at the eastern walls he saw some of his men engaging goblins trying to sqeeze through the gaps. He was about to join the battle when he saw grabs and hook flung upon the walls.

'We shall soon be over run,' he thought.

At that moment a few doughty men armed with spear axes and whatever weapons they could find arrived. "Block that breach," he ordered. "You there,' he called to a youg lad among the man. 'Gather everyone you can find and wait for us at the west gates. Do not bother with anything except saving yourselves.' The lad bowed and disappered.

"We cant hold them long!" his men cried coming to him. This breach wont hold long. We must find another plan.'

Rohir did a quick survey of the men around him. All in all he had about 25 fighters. 10 of his garrison and armed woodmen. 'I have a plan.' Rohir spoke rapidly.

 

The venerable Dain Ironfoot, descended onto the landing where stood Fili Firebeam, now impatient to allay his message. Every inch of the older dwarf flamboyantly shouted KING, his demeanour was stern and his crown was gilded and imbued with sapphires and emeralds. His longs nose pointed at the younger dwarfs eyes, indirectly displaying his superiority.

"I am glad you have returned, Fili Firebeam," the resonance of the voice burred in his throat, a touch that age had evidently given the king.

"I am humbled," the young dwarf ended abruptly. Small talk had never been his speciality. "I have withheld this message from you for long enough, good king. You must reject anything this... Messenger of Mordor, offers to us."

"Why so? What have you learnt that should sway me into such a decision?"

Fili looked around, he had not raised his voice, but he felt the king was not fully understanding his sincerity. "Rhun!" the word made all dwarves in the chamber shudder, "Sauron has dominion over these 'easterlings'. Scouts from Dale have reported about strong activity in the eastern reaches of Middle Earth." The young dwarf took a moment to stare at his superior, he let the intensity and fear be shown in his eyes for just a morsel of a blink. Dain nodded softly. Fili then continued, "it is king Brand's belief they plan to move on Dorwinion."

Ironfoot laughed deeply and richly, all those in the room sighed, as of the king had let it be so. The intense atmosphere of the room died somewhat. The old dwarf then turned once more to the young Firebeam, "we cannot forsake our dearest friends whilst we sit here in our halls of gold, drinking black beer and eating salted pork," the Kings demeanour changed midway, with the certain ferocity and charisma that made him king he stared Fili in the eye. "We will meet the East like we meet all challenges, with a squat stance and a broad blade!" There was no hint of fear in his flashing brown eyes...

Song and sword rang with equality throughout the halls of Erebor. The Lonely Mountain was upturned with activity. The smiths were busy and the taverns were filling with dwarves, all gathering at the call of their king. Such an amassing had not been seen since before the battle of Azanulbizar, where the dwarves had slain Azog the defiler, but had lost more of their own than they wished to put to number. Those days were now more distant in memory. Many dwarves were now bristling to do battle, this time in the east.

With eyes closed, a gentle breeze grabbed the shredded remnants of his tent's flaps so they waved like a tattered flag. After hours of silent meditation, he concluded it was time to warn his Rhunic brothers. Why else would he have been spared? This was no band of ragtag dwarves in tattered armor. These were warriors. Fighters that could take the form of lightning. Slowly his eyes opened.

Shak-Karan silently slid his blood dagger into its sheathe, his scimitar hanging from the leather straps around his back. He dropped his head and looked out, scanning the ruined camp site before him. Suddenly he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. An unfamiliar feeling. It burned. He closed his eyes and felt his heart beat faster: Fear. He was confused. Wainriders do not know fear. As the most elite force in the eastern provinces it is something they created, not took on. This was unacceptable, he was not a child cowering in the corner. He was a warrior who took up a sword and spear the day he took his first step.

"I fear nothing," he spoke to the wind, and with a new confidence he leapt into reality.

He saw a wasteland. The smell of death took over his senses. A few battered tents still stood, but most were piles of cloth and wood with legs or arms sticking out. Bodies of brothers were strewn across the flattened, blood stained grass, the patches of sand turned red. Smoldering fire pits emitted a trail of smoke that gave the appearance of a city that was ruined by flames. He became numb to the site of his dead brothers and continued forward, stepping over severed heads and shattered swords. At the end of the campsite stood a single horse, saddled and ready to ride. Surrounding it on the ground lay several dead horses, one of them embedded with a long spear in its gut, his preferred weapon of choice. Attached to the spear's wooden shaft was a medallion, a steel mace inside a bronze circle. This was not left by mistake. He put the medallion in his leather satchel and pulled the spear free. After giving the campsite one final look he climbed onto the lone horse. Before him lie a barren desert that was his only way home. He'd be an easy target traveling alone. But this time he was not afraid. In fact Shak-Karan had only one thought running through his mind...

Revenge.

Fili Firebeam watched the sun fall in the western sky. It's shimmering and warm facade reminded him of the gold his kin were so deft at making craft from. The final moments resonated in the young dwarf's mind; as the orb finally withdrew behind the horizon of tall and ominous-looking trees. Such a thought he savored, especially in recollection; so many years spent under the sun and moon had made him appreciate moments such as this. 

With a jerk, the dwarf was revived from his trance into the tangible world around him. To the dwarf's right rode Thorin Stonehelm, son of Dain Ironfoot and next leader of the Kingdom of Erebor. He was clad in a coat of mithril mail, and about his belt was girt an axe. A shield was propped around his back and thick leather boots shod his large sturdy feet. The prince's hair flew free with the wind, although braids assorted his beard into categories. He was as much the prince as his father was the king.

"Fili... Fili!" characteristic of his lineage, Thorin spoke with a deep and slightly burred accent.

The auburn-haired Firebeam stared into the dark eyes of his counterpart. "Aye!"

"Ride to Esgaroth now, tell the authorities that Dain's armies are being set loose in response to this crisis. Don't forget to mention that the stomach of our's will need filling when we arrive!"

The prince chuckled and dismissed the messenger with his hand. Fili bolted off on his pony, thinking to himself as he flew: once we leave Lake Town those Easterling bastards will pay for their alleigance with Sauron!

Greetings, folks. Just wanted to pass by n' say hi, n' also say that I've been kinda thinkin' could I maybe join ye group or somethin' like that?`Smile Smilie

I'm pretty sure I could get into this. I've been reading some of your posts through and it looks good to me. But I'll take my time and get back into this once I've a character and so on.

Yeah, so be well everyone! Balrogs, Gror, Thorin.. Don't think there are any others. Big Smile Smilie

Anyway, see ya guys around. It would be fun to talk over it. Smile Smilie

Greetings, folks. Just wanted to pass by n' say hi, n' also say that I've been kinda thinkin' could I maybe join ye group or somethin' like that?`Smile Smilie

I'm pretty sure I could get into this. I've been reading some of your posts through and it looks good to me. But I'll take my time and get back into this once I've a character and so on.

Yeah, so be well everyone! Balrogs, Gror, Thorin.. Don't think there are any others. Big Smile Smilie

Anyway, see ya guys around. It would be fun to talk over it. Smile Smilie