I like to become a god that helped the other races
An Admirable Maia in the Phoenix King's Court Tolkien/Warhammer Fantasy
- Thread starter Silver Gambit
- Start date
- Crossover
Travler66
Let her name echo in song!
- Location
- Beyond
That's impossible for us.
Roth963
If I become inactive with this massage, I died
Why, it is possible to ascend in Warhammer.
Concerning Maia 2
You awoke to a familiar ringing in an unfamiliar clearing on an unfamiliar mountain. The strangest part of this day was neither the ringing nor the mountain and its clearing, but the fact you awoke at all. It was not unlike the snap of a fresh twig, bending and bending until suddenly the world makes sense again and the stick snaps.
You hate it; you shall endeavor to never sleep again lest others begin to think you mortal.
As you rise to your feet you look around you, as stated previously you are in a clearing on a mountain, not too far from the peak all things considered. You dimly note the constant fog rolling through the distant peaks of the mountain on either side of the one you currently reside on, and from what you can see it continues past those as well.
At something of a loss for what to do or how you got here you decide the only prudent thing to do would be to investigate the ringing. As you get closer you notice another sound, a pair of voices.
Normally the voices of some mortals would worry you not, the ringing of what was clearly that of a hammer hitting the anvil combined with the voices would lead you to believe that there was a city or perhaps a large village. This fact, however, put you at ill-ease, you knew every language on Arda, you had made a point of knowing them in fact; these voices however were not speaking any language known to you.
As you got closer you could find certain resemblances to the common Sindarin of the Teleri, not enough to understand what was being said mind you, but it was oddly similar, almost as if you could simply reach slightly farther and grasp understanding.
You were now close enough to see the owners of those voices, at first glance you almost wanted to call them human, it was a man and a woman standing in front of what must have been a house of some sort. It was, oddly, made of a blackened stone, for a village that looked to be as small as this one it seemed strangely extravagant in your mind. It was only by looking further afield at a few more of the houses populating the town that you pieced together that there must be some source of the dark stone nearby that was large enough to make nearly every house in a small villa out of the stuff.
As you walked past the arguing couple you noticed something out of place as the male shifted part of his long hair to the side, these 'Men' had the pointed ears of the Eldar. This made no sense, these people despite the language they spoke or the ears they bore could simply not be Eldar. Every Eldar had a certain radiance to them that these people did not, certainly, they bore the height of the Telari and the Sindar and you would not think it odd to see one of these people that was as tall as a Noldor. Yet these people very obviously lacked something the Eldar you knew had, the Eldar were always bordering on the edge of a knife in between this world and the unseen one your natural form held residence in.
You dully note that you must look like something of an idiot, standing in the middle of a street on the edge of a strange village made of stone on the edge of a misty mountain looking at a random stranger's ear.
To be honest, a part of you likes that you have been so caught off guard, perhaps it's a sign of the lessening of Morgoth's influence. Another part of you notes that it probably wouldn't be strange for anyone to be as lost as you are right now when their last memory was of being on a boat in the middle of an ocean.
But seeing as that is neither here nor there, you decide to continue on towards the sound of the forge. While you still don't necessarily have a good reason for doing this, it is still something to do other than wander lost and confused on top of a mountain.
Valudor is neither a poor man nor a rich man. His works may be famous enough to have a shop filled to the brim with assistants, and his son may be the closest thing that Saphethion has to an Archmage at the moment.
Sure a noble from some kingdom or another in Ulthuan would occasionally come to buy a blade or spear from him, but he prided himself on pricing things fair no matter the clientele. While his son was making waves in Saphery and making friends with the Explorer King, he was at home on his mountain perfecting his craft in relative obscurity. The small village he worked in wasn't even fit to have its own name, it shared one with the mountain it stood on, Anul Caled, despite being one of the most populous places in Vaul's Heart.
So when on a fine day in the middle of summer a stranger came into his shop he thought nothing of it at first, he could hear one of his apprentices, Anubal, greeting the possible customer. He was in the back working on a blade meant for a low down noble from Eataine who had hoped that owning one of the great works of Valudor 'The Peacemaker' would bring up his standing in Lothern.
It wouldn't work, of course, the brat was too entitled for it to work, came into his shop, and damn near demanded that only he work on it. He was tempted to refuse outright, but if he were unwilling to work with the arrogant and egoistic then he wouldn't work in Vaul's Heart, Dragon's had damn near any elf beat in those categories.
He started paying attention to the situation in the front when he heard shouting from another one of his apprentices, a new one whose name wasn't worth remembering yet.
Sighing, Valudor sets down his hammer and wipes his hands on his apron before turning around to go and see what the problem was.
As he comes to the doorway he notices that of the three voices he hears he can only understand that of his apprentice's. Once he passes fully through the doorway he stops to take in what is happening in front of him.
The first thing he noticed was Anubal leaning over the counter with his head in his hands. The second and arguably more important thing was the very expensive Ithilmar sword in the hands of a very odd-looking stranger who, judging by the way the new guy was yelling, didn't exactly look like he was going to be paying for it. Once he got close enough he cleared his throat to gain the attention of this stranger. The stranger quickly turned his head to look at him before glancing down at his apron and back up at his eyes with a look of accomplishment.
The stranger's look of accomplishment fell off his face almost as fast as it came, he then looked back at the blade in his hand in a curious mix of familiarity and confusion. Not willing to even begin to parse what a stranger who couldn't speak Eltharin was saying he glanced at Anubal for an explanation.
"Your guess is as good as mine Master, he just came in speaking nonsense before grabbing the sword," he muttered into his hands before straightening up and motioning towards the now silent stranger.
"Thyadan and I tried to stop him but well, you can see how well that's going, seeing as this idiot can't even understand Etharin." he finishes with a grumble before going back to his hands.
Now, while Valudor might not have been famous necessarily, he was the closest thing to a leader that Anul Caled had, and the reason for that was the same reason he had the title of 'The Peacemaker'.
A century ago the people of Anul Caled were a terrified few, forced to cower under the mighty gaze of the largest Dragon population in the world. Valudor changed this, even if only slightly, by being the first Asur to not try to appease the dragons or to attempt to conquer them, but instead to attempt to discuss as equals. The sheer thought of this to most people, be they Asur or otherwise, would have been dismissed out of hand as a suicidal scheme of the arrogant.
Yet when Valudor climbed the mountain of Anul Caled, he was not smitten down by a beast older than the Asur Gods. Whether it was for amusement or genuine respect at the audacity of this elf, the mighty Star Dragon Draukhain allowed the proud Asur one conversation. While no one alive other than Valudor and Draukhain knew of what was said in that one talk allowed to the Asur, its effect was profound. Anul Caled was safe from Dragon kind from that moment on, allowing people a place and time to rest, and it is the legend of this talk that would shape the personality of any Asur to come from Vaul's Heart onward.
Perhaps it was even because of this background of solving his problems with words over violence that convinced Valudor to not simply send off this stranger intruding upon his shop.
You are very relieved to have finally found the smith of this place, you had been trying to get the attendants to introduce you for the last half hour at least. It took convincing the rowdier one that you were going to steal one of the priciest looking blades you could find to finally get the master of this shop's attention.
Now that you are in front of the man however you realize that you overlooked something crucial. This smith was the same as all the other fake Eldar you have seen and as such was just as unlikely to speak any of the languages you have tried as the others. So at a loss for what to do you looked back down towards the blade in your hands.
The metal was odd.
It had certain qualities that reminded you of mithril, it had a similar ethereal sheen to it that was so familiar to the other mithril blades you've seen. You were tempted to try and adopt the shape of an orc to see if it held the quality to glow as well, intellectually though you knew that this sword was unlikely to have been made by a smith that either knew how or had the ability to create a blade with that particular trait. There was also the fringe benefit that these craftsmen would likely react poorly to you shifting into such a form.
Really the only thing fully clueing you into this metal not being mithril, at least at a glance, was its relatively higher weight compared to the mystical metal of the mountains.
You were brought out of your head by another clearing of a throat. Looking up you see the master of this shop standing closer to you with his brow raised and his hand out.
You are ashamed to admit it probably took you longer to piece together what he wanted you to do than it should have. Placing the sword into his hand apologetically you wait patiently as he resets it onto the rack you found it on. Once done he turns to you and looks you up and down before grunting and turns around to return to his forge. You stand there awkwardly watching him walk away before he turns around at the doorway to his workshop and makes a beckoning motion with his hand.
Quickly deciding that this was at least better than wandering lost in a town of fake Eldar you follow him.
As you cross the threshold into his workshop you are struck by just how bright the forge is glowing. At first, you simply think it was a particularly bright fire, but as you get closer you see that it is in fact fueled by magma coming from the wall furthest from the entrance, which if you remember correctly is the side of the shop connected to the mountain.
Frankly, it goes a long way in explaining the black stone making up the town's infrastructure if they lived on a volcano, active or otherwise. Though why your Mas-Morgoth would go out of his way to corrupt a mountain in this apparent backwater was beyond you.
Once the smith is done watching how you react to his forge he motions towards a chair in the corner and says something that, while you don't necessarily understand, you can estimate as to his meaning.
You sit down with as much pride as you can muster once the owner is satisfied that you are sitting down he turns back to his forge and picks up his hammer to get back to work.
It strikes you just how strange it is to be considered just another part of a smithy instead of its master, in any case, you settle in to watch this master at work until he decides that he is done with you being here.
At first, there was a multitude of apprentices moving about the shop, helping their teacher when he needed it, however after many long hours they eventually all wandered off, putting down their tools and hanging up their aprons for the day. Leaving just you and the master smith, until eventually even he seems to be satisfied with the day's work. Once he finishes putting up his apron he turns around and sees you still sitting in your corner, he looks confused for a moment until you wave at him in jest.
He says something short while making an upwards motion with his hand causing you to get up from your seat; once up he beckons you toward him. Standing in front of him he starts walking around his shop until stopping at his hammer and pointing at and looking at you and saying "hammer" at first you are completely lost as to exactly what he is doing before catching on once he repeats himself. So you point at the hammer and say "hammer" causing him to shake his head and repeat their word for hammer. It takes you four tries until he is satisfied with your pronunciation and goes to continue the process with the rest of his shop.
After having followed the man around his shop for what felt like an inordinately long time, you conclude that this language is incredibly backwards. Half of the objects he pointed to had at least 3 words attributed to them, most of them long and needlessly flowery.
Truly you must get that project that Mas-Morgoth had assigned you, to create a language that would accomplish meaningful communication… on second thought following through with any order given to you by your former master would likely be seen as something of a backstep by the Valar, so you will simply have to live with this silly language for as long as is bearable.
Once the smith is done teaching you a small part of the language of his people, he turns sharply towards you and places a hand on his chest, and says, "Valudor" he then points towards you.
Thinking that this is perhaps his word for people, you put a hand on your currently Eldarin chest and repeat what he had just said, causing him to shake his head and make a cutting motion with his hand before returning his hand to his chest and repeating himself. Once he points towards you once more you figure out that he is likely asking for a name.
So you confidently put a hand on your chest and open your mouth only to suddenly hesitate, it comes to mind that you have had a wide variety of names ranging from the glorifying to the unflattering.
While you could certainly just call yourself Mairon once more, do you really feel as if you have the right to call yourself 'The Admirable' after all that you have done?
On the other hand, would the likes of Sauron send the right message to these people, or truly even give yourself enough credit for so much as attempting redemption?
You could also, of course, select a new name entirely, you will still be Mairon, but you would not necessarily have to be known as such to these people, at least for the time being; because as with all things, names are transient.
You can Approval vote here, I do not mind for this one.
[ ] Mairon 'The Admirable'
[ ] Sauron 'The Abhorred'
[ ] Gorthaur 'The Cruel'
[ ] Annatar 'Lord of Gifts'
[ ] Artano 'High-Smith'
[ ] Aulendil 'Friend of Aule'
[ ] Write-in
As always with write-ins I reserve the right to reject names that don't quite work, if you want a write-in name try and get the meaning of the name as best you can. In other news I was going to start work on an Ulthuan politics info post for those of you who know very little of the elves, But I just got my last dose of the Covid vaccine and I feel like hot garbage, so that'll be delayed a little bit until I start feeling better, sorry about that.
And on that note I am going to go lay back down I'll check in every once in a while to see how things are going.
You hate it; you shall endeavor to never sleep again lest others begin to think you mortal.
As you rise to your feet you look around you, as stated previously you are in a clearing on a mountain, not too far from the peak all things considered. You dimly note the constant fog rolling through the distant peaks of the mountain on either side of the one you currently reside on, and from what you can see it continues past those as well.
At something of a loss for what to do or how you got here you decide the only prudent thing to do would be to investigate the ringing. As you get closer you notice another sound, a pair of voices.
Normally the voices of some mortals would worry you not, the ringing of what was clearly that of a hammer hitting the anvil combined with the voices would lead you to believe that there was a city or perhaps a large village. This fact, however, put you at ill-ease, you knew every language on Arda, you had made a point of knowing them in fact; these voices however were not speaking any language known to you.
As you got closer you could find certain resemblances to the common Sindarin of the Teleri, not enough to understand what was being said mind you, but it was oddly similar, almost as if you could simply reach slightly farther and grasp understanding.
You were now close enough to see the owners of those voices, at first glance you almost wanted to call them human, it was a man and a woman standing in front of what must have been a house of some sort. It was, oddly, made of a blackened stone, for a village that looked to be as small as this one it seemed strangely extravagant in your mind. It was only by looking further afield at a few more of the houses populating the town that you pieced together that there must be some source of the dark stone nearby that was large enough to make nearly every house in a small villa out of the stuff.
As you walked past the arguing couple you noticed something out of place as the male shifted part of his long hair to the side, these 'Men' had the pointed ears of the Eldar. This made no sense, these people despite the language they spoke or the ears they bore could simply not be Eldar. Every Eldar had a certain radiance to them that these people did not, certainly, they bore the height of the Telari and the Sindar and you would not think it odd to see one of these people that was as tall as a Noldor. Yet these people very obviously lacked something the Eldar you knew had, the Eldar were always bordering on the edge of a knife in between this world and the unseen one your natural form held residence in.
You dully note that you must look like something of an idiot, standing in the middle of a street on the edge of a strange village made of stone on the edge of a misty mountain looking at a random stranger's ear.
To be honest, a part of you likes that you have been so caught off guard, perhaps it's a sign of the lessening of Morgoth's influence. Another part of you notes that it probably wouldn't be strange for anyone to be as lost as you are right now when their last memory was of being on a boat in the middle of an ocean.
But seeing as that is neither here nor there, you decide to continue on towards the sound of the forge. While you still don't necessarily have a good reason for doing this, it is still something to do other than wander lost and confused on top of a mountain.
Valudor is neither a poor man nor a rich man. His works may be famous enough to have a shop filled to the brim with assistants, and his son may be the closest thing that Saphethion has to an Archmage at the moment.
Sure a noble from some kingdom or another in Ulthuan would occasionally come to buy a blade or spear from him, but he prided himself on pricing things fair no matter the clientele. While his son was making waves in Saphery and making friends with the Explorer King, he was at home on his mountain perfecting his craft in relative obscurity. The small village he worked in wasn't even fit to have its own name, it shared one with the mountain it stood on, Anul Caled, despite being one of the most populous places in Vaul's Heart.
So when on a fine day in the middle of summer a stranger came into his shop he thought nothing of it at first, he could hear one of his apprentices, Anubal, greeting the possible customer. He was in the back working on a blade meant for a low down noble from Eataine who had hoped that owning one of the great works of Valudor 'The Peacemaker' would bring up his standing in Lothern.
It wouldn't work, of course, the brat was too entitled for it to work, came into his shop, and damn near demanded that only he work on it. He was tempted to refuse outright, but if he were unwilling to work with the arrogant and egoistic then he wouldn't work in Vaul's Heart, Dragon's had damn near any elf beat in those categories.
He started paying attention to the situation in the front when he heard shouting from another one of his apprentices, a new one whose name wasn't worth remembering yet.
Sighing, Valudor sets down his hammer and wipes his hands on his apron before turning around to go and see what the problem was.
As he comes to the doorway he notices that of the three voices he hears he can only understand that of his apprentice's. Once he passes fully through the doorway he stops to take in what is happening in front of him.
The first thing he noticed was Anubal leaning over the counter with his head in his hands. The second and arguably more important thing was the very expensive Ithilmar sword in the hands of a very odd-looking stranger who, judging by the way the new guy was yelling, didn't exactly look like he was going to be paying for it. Once he got close enough he cleared his throat to gain the attention of this stranger. The stranger quickly turned his head to look at him before glancing down at his apron and back up at his eyes with a look of accomplishment.
The stranger's look of accomplishment fell off his face almost as fast as it came, he then looked back at the blade in his hand in a curious mix of familiarity and confusion. Not willing to even begin to parse what a stranger who couldn't speak Eltharin was saying he glanced at Anubal for an explanation.
"Your guess is as good as mine Master, he just came in speaking nonsense before grabbing the sword," he muttered into his hands before straightening up and motioning towards the now silent stranger.
"Thyadan and I tried to stop him but well, you can see how well that's going, seeing as this idiot can't even understand Etharin." he finishes with a grumble before going back to his hands.
Now, while Valudor might not have been famous necessarily, he was the closest thing to a leader that Anul Caled had, and the reason for that was the same reason he had the title of 'The Peacemaker'.
A century ago the people of Anul Caled were a terrified few, forced to cower under the mighty gaze of the largest Dragon population in the world. Valudor changed this, even if only slightly, by being the first Asur to not try to appease the dragons or to attempt to conquer them, but instead to attempt to discuss as equals. The sheer thought of this to most people, be they Asur or otherwise, would have been dismissed out of hand as a suicidal scheme of the arrogant.
Yet when Valudor climbed the mountain of Anul Caled, he was not smitten down by a beast older than the Asur Gods. Whether it was for amusement or genuine respect at the audacity of this elf, the mighty Star Dragon Draukhain allowed the proud Asur one conversation. While no one alive other than Valudor and Draukhain knew of what was said in that one talk allowed to the Asur, its effect was profound. Anul Caled was safe from Dragon kind from that moment on, allowing people a place and time to rest, and it is the legend of this talk that would shape the personality of any Asur to come from Vaul's Heart onward.
Perhaps it was even because of this background of solving his problems with words over violence that convinced Valudor to not simply send off this stranger intruding upon his shop.
You are very relieved to have finally found the smith of this place, you had been trying to get the attendants to introduce you for the last half hour at least. It took convincing the rowdier one that you were going to steal one of the priciest looking blades you could find to finally get the master of this shop's attention.
Now that you are in front of the man however you realize that you overlooked something crucial. This smith was the same as all the other fake Eldar you have seen and as such was just as unlikely to speak any of the languages you have tried as the others. So at a loss for what to do you looked back down towards the blade in your hands.
The metal was odd.
It had certain qualities that reminded you of mithril, it had a similar ethereal sheen to it that was so familiar to the other mithril blades you've seen. You were tempted to try and adopt the shape of an orc to see if it held the quality to glow as well, intellectually though you knew that this sword was unlikely to have been made by a smith that either knew how or had the ability to create a blade with that particular trait. There was also the fringe benefit that these craftsmen would likely react poorly to you shifting into such a form.
Really the only thing fully clueing you into this metal not being mithril, at least at a glance, was its relatively higher weight compared to the mystical metal of the mountains.
You were brought out of your head by another clearing of a throat. Looking up you see the master of this shop standing closer to you with his brow raised and his hand out.
You are ashamed to admit it probably took you longer to piece together what he wanted you to do than it should have. Placing the sword into his hand apologetically you wait patiently as he resets it onto the rack you found it on. Once done he turns to you and looks you up and down before grunting and turns around to return to his forge. You stand there awkwardly watching him walk away before he turns around at the doorway to his workshop and makes a beckoning motion with his hand.
Quickly deciding that this was at least better than wandering lost in a town of fake Eldar you follow him.
As you cross the threshold into his workshop you are struck by just how bright the forge is glowing. At first, you simply think it was a particularly bright fire, but as you get closer you see that it is in fact fueled by magma coming from the wall furthest from the entrance, which if you remember correctly is the side of the shop connected to the mountain.
Frankly, it goes a long way in explaining the black stone making up the town's infrastructure if they lived on a volcano, active or otherwise. Though why your Mas-Morgoth would go out of his way to corrupt a mountain in this apparent backwater was beyond you.
Once the smith is done watching how you react to his forge he motions towards a chair in the corner and says something that, while you don't necessarily understand, you can estimate as to his meaning.
You sit down with as much pride as you can muster once the owner is satisfied that you are sitting down he turns back to his forge and picks up his hammer to get back to work.
It strikes you just how strange it is to be considered just another part of a smithy instead of its master, in any case, you settle in to watch this master at work until he decides that he is done with you being here.
At first, there was a multitude of apprentices moving about the shop, helping their teacher when he needed it, however after many long hours they eventually all wandered off, putting down their tools and hanging up their aprons for the day. Leaving just you and the master smith, until eventually even he seems to be satisfied with the day's work. Once he finishes putting up his apron he turns around and sees you still sitting in your corner, he looks confused for a moment until you wave at him in jest.
He says something short while making an upwards motion with his hand causing you to get up from your seat; once up he beckons you toward him. Standing in front of him he starts walking around his shop until stopping at his hammer and pointing at and looking at you and saying "hammer" at first you are completely lost as to exactly what he is doing before catching on once he repeats himself. So you point at the hammer and say "hammer" causing him to shake his head and repeat their word for hammer. It takes you four tries until he is satisfied with your pronunciation and goes to continue the process with the rest of his shop.
After having followed the man around his shop for what felt like an inordinately long time, you conclude that this language is incredibly backwards. Half of the objects he pointed to had at least 3 words attributed to them, most of them long and needlessly flowery.
Truly you must get that project that Mas-Morgoth had assigned you, to create a language that would accomplish meaningful communication… on second thought following through with any order given to you by your former master would likely be seen as something of a backstep by the Valar, so you will simply have to live with this silly language for as long as is bearable.
Once the smith is done teaching you a small part of the language of his people, he turns sharply towards you and places a hand on his chest, and says, "Valudor" he then points towards you.
Thinking that this is perhaps his word for people, you put a hand on your currently Eldarin chest and repeat what he had just said, causing him to shake his head and make a cutting motion with his hand before returning his hand to his chest and repeating himself. Once he points towards you once more you figure out that he is likely asking for a name.
So you confidently put a hand on your chest and open your mouth only to suddenly hesitate, it comes to mind that you have had a wide variety of names ranging from the glorifying to the unflattering.
While you could certainly just call yourself Mairon once more, do you really feel as if you have the right to call yourself 'The Admirable' after all that you have done?
On the other hand, would the likes of Sauron send the right message to these people, or truly even give yourself enough credit for so much as attempting redemption?
You could also, of course, select a new name entirely, you will still be Mairon, but you would not necessarily have to be known as such to these people, at least for the time being; because as with all things, names are transient.
You can Approval vote here, I do not mind for this one.
[ ] Mairon 'The Admirable'
[ ] Sauron 'The Abhorred'
[ ] Gorthaur 'The Cruel'
[ ] Annatar 'Lord of Gifts'
[ ] Artano 'High-Smith'
[ ] Aulendil 'Friend of Aule'
[ ] Write-in
As always with write-ins I reserve the right to reject names that don't quite work, if you want a write-in name try and get the meaning of the name as best you can. In other news I was going to start work on an Ulthuan politics info post for those of you who know very little of the elves, But I just got my last dose of the Covid vaccine and I feel like hot garbage, so that'll be delayed a little bit until I start feeling better, sorry about that.
And on that note I am going to go lay back down I'll check in every once in a while to see how things are going.
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[X] Artano 'High-Smith'
[X] Artano 'High-Smith'
yannoshka
Thunda birb
- Location
- Smartarse cramschool
@Silver Gambit
Just out of curiosity, can we string several names together, to kinda-sorta make a 'grand' name or something?
I feel like it would be in character for Not-quite Sauron, trying-to-be Mairon to introduce himself as, say:
Artano Aulendil Annatar Mairon
It fits in with his need for definition, and neetnees, and order.
Just out of curiosity, can we string several names together, to kinda-sorta make a 'grand' name or something?
I feel like it would be in character for Not-quite Sauron, trying-to-be Mairon to introduce himself as, say:
Artano Aulendil Annatar Mairon
It fits in with his need for definition, and neetnees, and order.
ConfusedCanuck
Where did it all go wrong?
- Location
- Neverland
[x] Annatar 'Lord of Gifts'
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Annatar 'Lord of Gifts'
- Location
- In my Lair, on my Hoard
[X] Annatar 'Lord of Gifts'
[X] Aulendil 'Friend of Aule'
[X] Aulendil 'Friend of Aule'
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