- Location
- United States
A Light from the Shadow (Tolkien CKII)
- Thread starter ganonso
- Start date
Dark Abstraction
Infrequent Participant
- Location
- United States
Incomplete sentence.
[] The high chambers of Minas Morgul
The Witch King of Angmar's new abode. It will contain ring wraiths, and is the location of the palantir lost to Sauron's forces. Looking here will provide useful knowledge of the nazgul and their forces, but will result in our discovery, and might result in a response.
[] Nan Ungol, The Spider's Vale
Shelob lies here, but she is of no real consequence. Spawn of Ungoliant she may be, she has none of the capabilities that made Ungoliant a threat.
[] The ruins of Barad Dur
Sauron's past
[] Dol Guldur in Mirkwood
[] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
The former home(s) of Morgoth and his forces. Will contain vile artifacts and magics, and likely vile occupants. Sea serpents will undoubtedly dwell here as well. Plenty to learn, if you've got the stomach for it. Little to learn that is directly relevant to the current world though.
[] Carn Dum
The Witch King of Angmar's old abode. It will have had orcs and other nasty things skulk back into it by now, though they will never pose a threat as Angmar once did. Might learn something of the nazgul.
Personally, I'd like to learn about Sauron's impending return. That being said...
[X] The ruins of Barad Dur
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- Location
- United States
@Dark Abstraction
As mentioned above, the update hadn't been proofed yet when it was posted. It'll be fixed up when the QM swings by, already sent the updated version.
As mentioned above, the update hadn't been proofed yet when it was posted. It'll be fixed up when the QM swings by, already sent the updated version.
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
I'm curious if any of Morgoth's servants linger there. Perhaps we can carry Neima's message to them. a long shot but it might be worth it.
I'm curious if any of Morgoth's servants linger there. Perhaps we can carry Neima's message to them. a long shot but it might be worth it.
- Location
- The World
I continue to be confused about the whole "will result in our discovery" worries.
I am certain Sauron & whoever else is relevant already know about us, the same way every member of the White Council does: metaphysical bullshit. Moreover, our introduction when we killed Azog and his orcs was far from subtle.
Furthermore, pretty sure Sauron or whoever else may have since also used the Palantir to look back in time (or maybe even as it was happening) and see us then, same way the Stone "betrayed" us and showed us and Moria as it was / we were in the past.
I am certain Sauron & whoever else is relevant already know about us, the same way every member of the White Council does: metaphysical bullshit. Moreover, our introduction when we killed Azog and his orcs was far from subtle.
Furthermore, pretty sure Sauron or whoever else may have since also used the Palantir to look back in time (or maybe even as it was happening) and see us then, same way the Stone "betrayed" us and showed us and Moria as it was / we were in the past.
Last edited:
GoukaRyuu
Shadow Cabal Made Man
- Location
- New Jersey
It's not so much we want to be discovered as we don't want to learn of Sauron and have him know he's been found out. Then her moves up his time table rapidly. Worst case scenario is we don't learn what he's up to or misunderstand it and he realizes someone knows he's back so kicks it into high gear.
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
avatar11792
Et Sic Incipit
- Location
- Planet Earth, North America
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
- Location
- Too Deep in the Midnight Sea
Nope, wrong thread.
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ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Yeah I run too many quests.
Vote Tally : A Light from the Shadow (Tolkien CKII) | Page 43 | Sufficient Velocity
##### NetTally 1.7.3.2
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
No. of Votes: 7
Karmic Acumen
avatar11792
DragonParadox
Random Member
ThoughtMaster
UbeOne
veekie
[X] Dol Guldur in Mirkwood
No. of Votes: 4
Walkin' Man
JaceAoT
Night_stalker
Praetor98
[X] Carn Dum
No. of Votes: 2
Artemis1992
Finagle007
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
[X] Carn Dum
No. of Votes: 2
GoukaRyuu
néocorvinus
[X] The high chambers of Minas Morgul
No. of Votes: 2
Terrabrand
Aburg7
[X] The ruins of Barad Dur
No. of Votes: 1
Dark Abstraction
[X] Foreign Sorcerer
No. of Votes: 1
souvikkundu
Total No. of Voters: 19
Vote Tally : A Light from the Shadow (Tolkien CKII) | Page 43 | Sufficient Velocity
##### NetTally 1.7.3.2
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
No. of Votes: 7
Karmic Acumen
avatar11792
DragonParadox
Random Member
ThoughtMaster
UbeOne
veekie
[X] Dol Guldur in Mirkwood
No. of Votes: 4
Walkin' Man
JaceAoT
Night_stalker
Praetor98
[X] Carn Dum
No. of Votes: 2
Artemis1992
Finagle007
[X] Angband and Utumno that are below the sea
[X] Carn Dum
No. of Votes: 2
GoukaRyuu
néocorvinus
[X] The high chambers of Minas Morgul
No. of Votes: 2
Terrabrand
Aburg7
[X] The ruins of Barad Dur
No. of Votes: 1
Dark Abstraction
[X] Foreign Sorcerer
No. of Votes: 1
souvikkundu
Total No. of Voters: 19
Last edited:
Nan Curunir Part 4
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Nan Curunir Part 4
Perhaps it is your regrets that guide your vision now. Perhaps it is the strange will of the Stone, ready to torment one of his crafter's killers. You don't know, and perhaps even you don't care. For you agree you want to see again the places you walked while the world was young, the great strongholds of the Discord you helped to edify and defend, and then fled from in shame and pain. The vision begins to blur as you are projected to the North at great speed, seeing forest, and mountains disappear in a mist of colors. For a moment you are tempted to laugh with the ecstasy of speed like someone falling from a great height, still alive to appreciate the time where he is suspended between heaven and earth. Strangely the Palantír turns first your thoughts to Utumno, the first and greatest lair of Morgoth, rather than Angband where he ruled during the Ages of the Sun.
You see a mountain range standing proudly in the frozen ocean, and you know without knowing no other mountain raised by the Valar is as high as these black peaks, still clawing at the skies despite the ruin of the first wars before the Sun and Moon. There's no sound here, and vaguely you understand there would be no sound, not even the howling of the bitter wind, if you came here in the flesh. Only these mountains that are not mountains, too high to be natural, still standing despite the many wounds they were being dealt. You are near enough now to see that the summits are strangely regular, yet asymmetric, even counting all the caves opened and the stone hewed by the fury of the Valar. Yet it's only when you see the broken gate mockingly left wide open that you remember you arrived to Utumno in the frozen waste.
Even the Stone of Fëanor seems wary to allow you to continue your path now, and yet you continue through dark corridors and bloody council rooms, seeing nothing alive and yet feeling it, lurking below the surface. You follow your feelings and you see, even as the Palantír wants you to recoil, what crawls in the deepest pith that the Power left unprobed.
You see, and even with the blessing of Nienna and your erstwhile allegiance you cannot suppress your disgust, for even the first creations and servants of Morgoth Bauglir are hideous beyond all imagination. Seas of mud and impure matter changing and recomposing, singing in a voice you don't understand anymore. Crawling essays and prototypes of Orcs, simple sketches left by the artist, still immortal and still lamenting in muted voice the waters of Cuiviénen. Beings of your old order, spirits of trees and ice and fire, reduced to unthinking savagery and filling the caverns while dreaming of the return of their master. For all these things, from the basest mushroom to the greatest of the fallen Umaïar hope and know that Morgoth will one day return home and give them life and sentience anew. And it is a frightening thought, for these beings are from the beginning of the world when elemental fury was the main power of the Marrer and you doubt Arda could resist their primal might. And to think on how many still sleep the sleep of the dead in the fields of heaven, having been wounded or imprisoned since the first war when Discord sought the mastery of all domains.
For a moment you have the vision of a world of ice and fire and wild jungle, where the only thing built would be the peaks of Utumno, and great beasts would stalk for the blood of every living thing while the Umaïar would laugh and hunt at their leisure. Is this a trick of the Palantír? A prophesied outcome or a dark fancy from the depths of your own mind? You don't know. But it is with an heavy heart that you let the Stone guide you to the raging sea that hides Angband.
There you lose control like in Moria. The sea, red with the blood of crazed beasts maddened by the proximity with Morgoth's old domain, recedes, and the great wound dealt to Beleriand closes. Anew rises high the peaks of Thangorodrim and the web of caves below resounds with shriek and blows. It is home, it was home, and even the gates look inviting. Yet memory and the Stone bring you back, not to the days of glory or even of struggle, but the day where hope was moved to despair and power to ruin. For a moment you are struck blind and you remember.
You remember rising your eyes to the heavens and nearly casting them down, so great was the light and thunder of the battle above. On one side, every creature of Morgoth that could fly. Vampires with wings of bat and claws of iron, great winged dragons that none had ever seen, filling the skies with red and green hues as they breathed fire on their opponents. Among them was Ancalagon the Black himself, as great as the mountains, who spread his wings like a cloud of death, whose flesh housed the wailing spirit of your old commander. Arrayed against them were all birds of the sky and Vingilot crowned with fire in a battle that could have, you know it now, only one issue.
You had never seen, or even imagined the light of the Jewels to be unleashed this way. And yet unleashed it was, burning all creatures of the reign of Morgoth and filling them with dread. Corpses fell from the torn skies amidst the storm and the lightning, to crush squads and hordes under their weight. But you were transfixed by the interplay between the great vessel and its opponents, for even the Lord of Eagles had not wrought such a slaughter on your forces. And when Ancalagon is struck down by burning light and under his weight crushes the triple peaks hiding the entrance to Morgoth's lair, you knew, even then, that the battle was lost.
And yet it continues raging. Hordes of Orcs, deformed by your own evil, fear you and your cohorts more than they fear the bright children of the West that advance on your lines. Men in great number, enthralled by the terror of your forms and abandoned by the Valar in their proud exile in Aman. And of course all the monsters of creation, for the Valaraukar are not the only Maïar to have chosen the side of the Discord. Great wolves and captains wearing horrid shapes, giants and genies; all gathered for this last battle.
For what purpose? Against you are arrayed the forces of wind and water and light, for the Powers who remained faithful to the Music are the elements of the world. The world that fights against you even in this place where your master disseminated so much of his power. As you fight with blade and whip, trampling beast elf and man under your feet, you are surprised to sense how much the land hates you and fights your presence with all her might.
At this moment the Valar come and the Children retreat as Oromë, Tulkas and Aulë lead the host of the Maïar in the final assault. Even with the vision of the Palantír you can't distinguish their shapes, for they are storm and lightning and burning metal, but you remember the terror of your servants as they are met and slaughtered, dispersed like straw in the wind and broken forever. You fight and fall at the gate against a Maïa of Oromë, and while you disperse the Hunter's servant you fight long enough to see the cave be exposed and the light of the Silmaril fall on you.
It burns. It burns more than any wound you ever suffered. It burns even if you are a creature of fire. And the worst part is you can, perhaps even then, perhaps only now, understand it is not meant to burn. It is not like the arrows of Oromë or the cold touch of Mandos, made to rectify errors in the great design. It is light, sweet and unending, but so debased and corrupt have you become that you burn under its touch. It is too much and you flee the battle, battered and burning, running and flying through secret routes amidst the ruin of your stronghold to the dark roads at the roots of the earth. There to fall asleep in stone and mithril.
The Palantír shows you that, but also the last defense you didn't see. When the throne of Morgoth was defended only by Lugorthfin and the others of your Orders filling the cave with leprous flame and unnatural darkness. Three they were at the end where twenty had stood, but stood they did against the Valar themselves and fell defending the gates. You are not surprised to see Gothmog's successor try at the last to put his broken bodies against them, giving time to Morgoth to prepare or flee.
The vision breaks at this moment and you are sent flying from the sphere, which appears to your bloodied eyes as wreathed in white fire. Gandalf rushes to your side as Saruman looks into the Palantir, seeing perhaps the Valar seizing Morgoth and chaining him. The fires dies down slowly, and you are forced to admit you gained little precious information from this endeavor.
Still, it was not useless. Contemplating your former fate and the deeds of the Discord from another point of view seems to have increased your wisdom and attunement to the rhythm of the world. You feel as you understand things that were hidden from you and some of the Music's more secret proprieties.
Trait Gained:
Atoner: +5 Learning and Piety
Perhaps it is your regrets that guide your vision now. Perhaps it is the strange will of the Stone, ready to torment one of his crafter's killers. You don't know, and perhaps even you don't care. For you agree you want to see again the places you walked while the world was young, the great strongholds of the Discord you helped to edify and defend, and then fled from in shame and pain. The vision begins to blur as you are projected to the North at great speed, seeing forest, and mountains disappear in a mist of colors. For a moment you are tempted to laugh with the ecstasy of speed like someone falling from a great height, still alive to appreciate the time where he is suspended between heaven and earth. Strangely the Palantír turns first your thoughts to Utumno, the first and greatest lair of Morgoth, rather than Angband where he ruled during the Ages of the Sun.
You see a mountain range standing proudly in the frozen ocean, and you know without knowing no other mountain raised by the Valar is as high as these black peaks, still clawing at the skies despite the ruin of the first wars before the Sun and Moon. There's no sound here, and vaguely you understand there would be no sound, not even the howling of the bitter wind, if you came here in the flesh. Only these mountains that are not mountains, too high to be natural, still standing despite the many wounds they were being dealt. You are near enough now to see that the summits are strangely regular, yet asymmetric, even counting all the caves opened and the stone hewed by the fury of the Valar. Yet it's only when you see the broken gate mockingly left wide open that you remember you arrived to Utumno in the frozen waste.
Even the Stone of Fëanor seems wary to allow you to continue your path now, and yet you continue through dark corridors and bloody council rooms, seeing nothing alive and yet feeling it, lurking below the surface. You follow your feelings and you see, even as the Palantír wants you to recoil, what crawls in the deepest pith that the Power left unprobed.
You see, and even with the blessing of Nienna and your erstwhile allegiance you cannot suppress your disgust, for even the first creations and servants of Morgoth Bauglir are hideous beyond all imagination. Seas of mud and impure matter changing and recomposing, singing in a voice you don't understand anymore. Crawling essays and prototypes of Orcs, simple sketches left by the artist, still immortal and still lamenting in muted voice the waters of Cuiviénen. Beings of your old order, spirits of trees and ice and fire, reduced to unthinking savagery and filling the caverns while dreaming of the return of their master. For all these things, from the basest mushroom to the greatest of the fallen Umaïar hope and know that Morgoth will one day return home and give them life and sentience anew. And it is a frightening thought, for these beings are from the beginning of the world when elemental fury was the main power of the Marrer and you doubt Arda could resist their primal might. And to think on how many still sleep the sleep of the dead in the fields of heaven, having been wounded or imprisoned since the first war when Discord sought the mastery of all domains.
For a moment you have the vision of a world of ice and fire and wild jungle, where the only thing built would be the peaks of Utumno, and great beasts would stalk for the blood of every living thing while the Umaïar would laugh and hunt at their leisure. Is this a trick of the Palantír? A prophesied outcome or a dark fancy from the depths of your own mind? You don't know. But it is with an heavy heart that you let the Stone guide you to the raging sea that hides Angband.
There you lose control like in Moria. The sea, red with the blood of crazed beasts maddened by the proximity with Morgoth's old domain, recedes, and the great wound dealt to Beleriand closes. Anew rises high the peaks of Thangorodrim and the web of caves below resounds with shriek and blows. It is home, it was home, and even the gates look inviting. Yet memory and the Stone bring you back, not to the days of glory or even of struggle, but the day where hope was moved to despair and power to ruin. For a moment you are struck blind and you remember.
You remember rising your eyes to the heavens and nearly casting them down, so great was the light and thunder of the battle above. On one side, every creature of Morgoth that could fly. Vampires with wings of bat and claws of iron, great winged dragons that none had ever seen, filling the skies with red and green hues as they breathed fire on their opponents. Among them was Ancalagon the Black himself, as great as the mountains, who spread his wings like a cloud of death, whose flesh housed the wailing spirit of your old commander. Arrayed against them were all birds of the sky and Vingilot crowned with fire in a battle that could have, you know it now, only one issue.
You had never seen, or even imagined the light of the Jewels to be unleashed this way. And yet unleashed it was, burning all creatures of the reign of Morgoth and filling them with dread. Corpses fell from the torn skies amidst the storm and the lightning, to crush squads and hordes under their weight. But you were transfixed by the interplay between the great vessel and its opponents, for even the Lord of Eagles had not wrought such a slaughter on your forces. And when Ancalagon is struck down by burning light and under his weight crushes the triple peaks hiding the entrance to Morgoth's lair, you knew, even then, that the battle was lost.
And yet it continues raging. Hordes of Orcs, deformed by your own evil, fear you and your cohorts more than they fear the bright children of the West that advance on your lines. Men in great number, enthralled by the terror of your forms and abandoned by the Valar in their proud exile in Aman. And of course all the monsters of creation, for the Valaraukar are not the only Maïar to have chosen the side of the Discord. Great wolves and captains wearing horrid shapes, giants and genies; all gathered for this last battle.
For what purpose? Against you are arrayed the forces of wind and water and light, for the Powers who remained faithful to the Music are the elements of the world. The world that fights against you even in this place where your master disseminated so much of his power. As you fight with blade and whip, trampling beast elf and man under your feet, you are surprised to sense how much the land hates you and fights your presence with all her might.
At this moment the Valar come and the Children retreat as Oromë, Tulkas and Aulë lead the host of the Maïar in the final assault. Even with the vision of the Palantír you can't distinguish their shapes, for they are storm and lightning and burning metal, but you remember the terror of your servants as they are met and slaughtered, dispersed like straw in the wind and broken forever. You fight and fall at the gate against a Maïa of Oromë, and while you disperse the Hunter's servant you fight long enough to see the cave be exposed and the light of the Silmaril fall on you.
It burns. It burns more than any wound you ever suffered. It burns even if you are a creature of fire. And the worst part is you can, perhaps even then, perhaps only now, understand it is not meant to burn. It is not like the arrows of Oromë or the cold touch of Mandos, made to rectify errors in the great design. It is light, sweet and unending, but so debased and corrupt have you become that you burn under its touch. It is too much and you flee the battle, battered and burning, running and flying through secret routes amidst the ruin of your stronghold to the dark roads at the roots of the earth. There to fall asleep in stone and mithril.
The Palantír shows you that, but also the last defense you didn't see. When the throne of Morgoth was defended only by Lugorthfin and the others of your Orders filling the cave with leprous flame and unnatural darkness. Three they were at the end where twenty had stood, but stood they did against the Valar themselves and fell defending the gates. You are not surprised to see Gothmog's successor try at the last to put his broken bodies against them, giving time to Morgoth to prepare or flee.
The vision breaks at this moment and you are sent flying from the sphere, which appears to your bloodied eyes as wreathed in white fire. Gandalf rushes to your side as Saruman looks into the Palantir, seeing perhaps the Valar seizing Morgoth and chaining him. The fires dies down slowly, and you are forced to admit you gained little precious information from this endeavor.
Still, it was not useless. Contemplating your former fate and the deeds of the Discord from another point of view seems to have increased your wisdom and attunement to the rhythm of the world. You feel as you understand things that were hidden from you and some of the Music's more secret proprieties.
Trait Gained:
Atoner: +5 Learning and Piety
- Location
- Versailles
Shoggoths, immortal orcs and so many other abominations of the first age.
I cant tell which of R'lyeh and Utumo is the worst.
Can we use the Palantir again?
I cant tell which of R'lyeh and Utumo is the worst.
Can we use the Palantir again?
- Location
- Tulsa Oklahoma
Do you think we should tell the others what we saw?
- Location
- The World
Well, a personal gain instead of a strategic advantage. Maybe we can look in the palantir again next year. Maybe we can even retrieve one from Arnor somehow and take for ourselves? Temporarily of course.
And there lies the true temptation of the Palantir...
- Location
- Alice Springs, Australia
I agree
- Location
- Too Deep in the Midnight Sea
I thought it was peeping on Galadriel bathing.
Mock-serious pedantic reply: "That is impossible as Lothlorien i warded by her will. "
- Location
- Too Deep in the Midnight Sea
But is her will stronger than our naughtiness?Mock-serious pedantic reply: "That is impossible as Lothlorien i warded by her will. "
We're trying to be good remember?But is her will stronger than our naughtiness?
- Location
- The World
If I ever write a quest, I will use an unambiguously celibate hero just to avoid the waifu wars that seem to be a staple of forum questing.
Galadriel is already married, people, and we're an Angel of Fire. Hormone-based attraction does not come into question with us.
Galadriel is already married, people, and we're an Angel of Fire. Hormone-based attraction does not come into question with us.