The corruption of Numenor begun long before Sauron. The dwindling of the Men of the West will take millennia, and will stretch for countless lifetimes. They will turn inwards as their empire spreads outwards. They will abandon fair tongue and fair thought and fair work to seek life unending and mastery over death itself. In their wars against Sauron in the distant South, their works will grow mightier and more awful yet, and to fuel their engines of war they will scour the land bare from shore to shore and make slaves of lesser Men. The old prayers will be forgotten, the old temples will be boarded up, the high peak on the Meneltarma will be climbed by priests no more. The Númenoreans will grow cruel and terrible in their pride, a race of conquerors and slavers, tyrant lords with shining eyes and endless days. There will be black centuries when, caught between the White Tree of Númenor and the Lidless Eye of Mordor, the men of Middle-Earth will turn to the Eye for mercy.
The White Tree, deathless, shall fail and begin to blacken long before it drowns — only the tender and loyal care of the Faithful shall preserve a cutting of a sapling to survive the downfall.
When the Númenoreans turn their proud ears to the Dark Lord at long last, it will be less of fall and more of a completion.
And yet until his coming to Numenor the White Three still stood, Illuvatar was still worshiped, the Dark Ennemy had not been worshiped and the sacrilege of human sacrifice had not been commited. Long decades of hard work would be needed for the Dark Lord to, at last, convince them to raise their swords against the Valars themselves.
And yet until his coming to Numenor the White Three still stood, Illuvatar was still worshiped, the Dark Ennemy had not been worshiped and the sacrilege of human sacrifice had not been commited. Long decades of hard work would be needed for the Dark Lord to, at last, convince them to raise their swords against the Valars themselves.
That the Númenoreans could have been swayed at all — in fifty short years, no less — by the words of Sauron who had so long been their Enemy is a testament to low they had fallen morally before he ever set foot on the Blessed Isle.
By the time of the coming of the Enemy, the Númenorean's hearts were already soured against the Valar. They did not pray or seek guidance from the lords in the West, and often spoke against them with unabashed fury. It was the defeat of Sauron and his later whispers that convinced them that if they could undo one of the Maiar so easily, then perhaps they could throw their strength against the Valar and succeed. What stayed their hand so long was not reverence or respect, but fear, the same fear of death that grew to dominate all their doings and deeds. It seemed nonsensical to suggest war with the Valar, for one might as well make war on the sky and the sea. They feared above all things the might of the Powers of the West, and their wrath which even their oldest legends said could sink continents. All Sauron needed to do was convince these proud men that there was another Power, a darker and a greater, with whose support they could defeat the Valar and take their rightful place as the undying Lords of the World: Morgoth.
EDIT:
In any case, it looks like voting is wrapping up, so keep an eye out for the update.
[X] Plan: Laying the First Stone -[X] A Source of Stone: The Númenoreans do not live as the lower Men do. Their homes are of carven stone shaped like clay, and their halls are marble white. You send your Shapers to identify potential quarries around the colony that could provide a source for such buildings. -[X] The Smithies: You direct your Shapers to begin focusing their efforts on the great smithies and forges which will serve as the engine of the cities' production. The sooner you can begin binding blade to hilt, the better for your colony and it's benefactors. -[X] Expand the Farmsteads: The colony's farmsteads are a handful of fields on the outskirts of her sprawling expanse. The majority of it's sustenance arrives over the sea in the holds of Guild ships. You would see your people's ability to feed themselves expanded.
-[X] Establish The Rangers: The men who volunteer for rangings and wanderings are already among the colony's fittest woodsmen. By formalizing their position you can creating an organization which will range, hunt, and hold the woods for your newborn colony. Taking inspiration from the famed woodsmen of the Edain, you name them the Rangers. -[X] Prepare Walls: Your colony sits defenseless. See to the raising of stone walls which will protect what you have thus far built. You will need a source of stone for such a project. -[X] Send An Envoy To The Enedwaithrim: The Middle Men of this land are a reclusive, woodland folk. Inzilbeth's great reputation has opened the door for an expedition to parlay with them.
-[X] Send An Envoy To Tharbad: Tharbad, built at the ford of the River Gwathlo, is the nearest Numenorean settlement to your colony, some two dozen leagues to your north. A mighty fortress, it was erected to hold the line against the power of Sauron nearly a thousand years ago, and was the site of a great battle in the War of the Elves and Sauron, where the Dark Lords' armies were turned back from northern Middle-Earth. The garrison of two thousand at Tharbad is the single largest Numenorean military force in the north of Middle-Earth.
-[X] Send An Envoy To the Dwarven Army: A great army of black-armored dwarves marches over a devastated battlefield in the north of Enedwaith. You send an envoy to treat with them and learn their purpose. -[X] Send An Envoy To Lond Daer: Once the mighty harbor of Vinyalonde in days gone by, the port city now known as Lond Daer, sat on the mouth of the river Gwathlo, has declined since it's glory days. It's once-packed harbors are bare, and a dwindling population of mariners and woodsmen eke out a living among it's pillared halls. It is said the men of Lond Daer keep close contact with the elves.
-[X] The Iron Forest: Wild and old are the forests of Enedwaith. A dark power -- though not an evil one -- lies upon these woods. You know something of the tongues of beast and bough, and could, with enough time, discern whatever secrets dwell herein. (Requires Imrazor)
[X] Getting Started
-[X] A Source of Stone -[X] The Smithies: You direct your Shapers to begin focusing their efforts on the great smithies and forges which will serve as the engine of the cities' production. The sooner you can begin binding blade to hilt, the better for your colony and it's benefactors. -[X] Expand the Farmsteads: The colony's farmsteads are a handful of fields on the outskirts of her sprawling expanse. The majority of it's sustenance arrives over the sea in the holds of Guild ships. You would see your people's ability to feed themselves expanded.
-[X] Establish A Militia: Begin selecting the fittest and hardiest men from among your people and training them to serve at a moment's notice should duty call.
-[X] Establish The Rangers: The men who volunteer for rangings and wanderings are already among the colony's fittest woodsmen. By formalizing their position you can creating an organization which will range, hunt, and hold the woods for your newborn colony. Taking inspiration from the famed woodsmen of the Edain, you name them the Rangers. -[X] Prepare Walls: Your colony sits defenseless. See to the raising of stone walls which will protect what you have thus far built. You will need a source of stone for such a project. -[X] Send An Envoy To The Enedwaithrim: The Middle Men of this land are a reclusive, woodland folk. Inzilbeth's great reputation has opened the door for an expedition to parlay with them.
--[X] Inzilbeth
-[X] Send An Envoy To Tharbad: Tharbad, built at the ford of the River Gwathlo, is the nearest Numenorean settlement to your colony, some two dozen leagues to your north. A mighty fortress, it was erected to hold the line against the power of Sauron nearly a thousand years ago, and was the site of a great battle in the War of the Elves and Sauron, where the Dark Lords' armies were turned back from northern Middle-Earth. The garrison of two thousand at Tharbad is the single largest Numenorean military force in the north of Middle-Earth.
-[X] Send An Envoy To the Dwarven Army: A great army of black-armored dwarves marches over a devastated battlefield in the north of Enedwaith. You send an envoy to treat with them and learn their purpose.
-[X] The Iron Forest: Wild and old are the forests of Enedwaith. A dark power -- though not an evil one -- lies upon these woods. You know something of the tongues of beast and bough, and could, with enough time, discern whatever secrets dwell herein. (Requires Imrazor)
--[X] Imrazor
[X] Getting Started, with elves
-[X] A Source of Stone -[X] The Smithies: You direct your Shapers to begin focusing their efforts on the great smithies and forges which will serve as the engine of the cities' production. The sooner you can begin binding blade to hilt, the better for your colony and it's benefactors. -[X] Expand the Farmsteads: The colony's farmsteads are a handful of fields on the outskirts of her sprawling expanse. The majority of it's sustenance arrives over the sea in the holds of Guild ships. You would see your people's ability to feed themselves expanded.
-[X] Establish A Militia: Begin selecting the fittest and hardiest men from among your people and training them to serve at a moment's notice should duty call.
-[X] Establish The Rangers: The men who volunteer for rangings and wanderings are already among the colony's fittest woodsmen. By formalizing their position you can creating an organization which will range, hunt, and hold the woods for your newborn colony. Taking inspiration from the famed woodsmen of the Edain, you name them the Rangers. -[X] Prepare Walls: Your colony sits defenseless. See to the raising of stone walls which will protect what you have thus far built. You will need a source of stone for such a project. -[X] Send An Envoy To The Enedwaithrim: The Middle Men of this land are a reclusive, woodland folk. Inzilbeth's great reputation has opened the door for an expedition to parlay with them.
--[X] Inzilbeth
-[X] Send An Envoy To Tharbad: Tharbad, built at the ford of the River Gwathlo, is the nearest Numenorean settlement to your colony, some two dozen leagues to your north. A mighty fortress, it was erected to hold the line against the power of Sauron nearly a thousand years ago, and was the site of a great battle in the War of the Elves and Sauron, where the Dark Lords' armies were turned back from northern Middle-Earth. The garrison of two thousand at Tharbad is the single largest Numenorean military force in the north of Middle-Earth.
-[X] Send An Envoy To Rivendell: Imladris, or Rivendell, is an elvish stronghold deep in the heartlands of Minhiriath. Founded and ruled by the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven, it serves as a bastion of wisdom and learning in these later days of the world, projecting Elvish might into all eastern Eriador. The elves of Rivendell are force to be reckoned with, and are great traders and loremasters besides. It would not be unwise to make their acquaintance.
-[X] The Iron Forest: Wild and old are the forests of Enedwaith. A dark power -- though not an evil one -- lies upon these woods. You know something of the tongues of beast and bough, and could, with enough time, discern whatever secrets dwell herein. (Requires Imrazor)
--[X] Imrazor
-[X] A Source of Stone
-[X] The Smithies: You direct your Shapers to begin focusing their efforts on the great smithies and forges which will serve as the engine of the cities' production. The sooner you can begin binding blade to hilt, the better for your colony and it's benefactors.
-[X] Expand the Farmsteads: The colony's farmsteads are a handful of fields on the outskirts of her sprawling expanse. The majority of it's sustenance arrives over the sea in the holds of Guild ships. You would see your people's ability to feed themselves expanded.
-[X] Establish A Militia: Begin selecting the fittest and hardiest men from among your people and training them to serve at a moment's notice should duty call.
-[X] Establish The Rangers: The men who volunteer for rangings and wanderings are already among the colony's fittest woodsmen. By formalizing their position you can creating an organization which will range, hunt, and hold the woods for your newborn colony. Taking inspiration from the famed woodsmen of the Edain, you name them the Rangers.
-[X] Prepare Walls: Your colony sits defenseless. See to the raising of stone walls which will protect what you have thus far built. You will need a source of stone for such a project.
-[X] Send An Envoy To The Enedwaithrim: The Middle Men of this land are a reclusive, woodland folk. Inzilbeth's great reputation has opened the door for an expedition to parlay with them.
--[X] Inzilbeth
-[X] Send An Envoy To Tharbad: Tharbad, built at the ford of the River Gwathlo, is the nearest Numenorean settlement to your colony, some two dozen leagues to your north. A mighty fortress, it was erected to hold the line against the power of Sauron nearly a thousand years ago, and was the site of a great battle in the War of the Elves and Sauron, where the Dark Lords' armies were turned back from northern Middle-Earth. The garrison of two thousand at Tharbad is the single largest Numenorean military force in the north of Middle-Earth.
-[X] Send An Envoy To the Dwarven Army: A great army of black-armored dwarves marches over a devastated battlefield in the north of Enedwaith. You send an envoy to treat with them and learn their purpose.
-[X] The Iron Forest: Wild and old are the forests of Enedwaith. A dark power -- though not an evil one -- lies upon these woods. You know something of the tongues of beast and bough, and could, with enough time, discern whatever secrets dwell herein. (Requires Imrazor)
--[X] Imrazor
The City-Under-The-Stars
At the mouth of the black river Angren, on the shores of the Belegaer, lies the Númenórean colony known as Târ Nîlon. Founded by Imrazôr the Shaper in the eighteenth year of the reign of Ar-Belzagar the Conqueror, it stands as Númenór's premier outpost in the middle lands of the continent, straddling the wide land between the great wilderness of Minhiriath and the eastern sprawl of Rhovanion. Though small and newly-founded, the city burns star-bright in the shadow of the Misty Mountains, a dim glimmer of the glory which is Númenór.
Population
The city's population is diverse, drawing from across the vast breadth of Númenór. The greatest bulk of the initial colonists hail from Andustar, in Númenór's west, bold Faithful stout of heart and strong of spirit who have settled along the spine of the Angren, near the running waters of the black river. Large numbers of Romennans, born seamen, have settled along the shores of the Angren, where they may gaze out across the sea. An enclave of Hyarrostari, the small and shrewd men of Númenór's south, have settled on the outskirts of the city, helping to tame the thick woods around the river. Scattered among these are a number of Forrostari, stout workers hard of body who have thrown their backs into the development of the city proper. A handful of Mittalmari round out the colony, hardworking King's Men whose experience tilling the soil has proven valuable in the colony's early days. All together, these number some one thousand, five hundred and nine.
The colony is new, and no conflicts have yet begun to emerge among the people.
Military
The 'army' of the colony is small, but growing daily, and consists currently of several dozen repurposed seamen and ex-soldiers who ply the river in small, swift boats. Aside from this marine infantry force, you estimate that some seven-hundred people could be raised to the colony's defense in an emergency, roughly organized and semi-trained. There exists also a small scout force of Rangers, lightly armored scouts equipped with bows who number some thirty-odd men and women.
Your fleet consists of the fourteen ships which carried your people and supplies here, though they are not built for combat, and of Inzilbeth's pride and joy, the Pillar of Heaven. A fully crewed Númenórean warship with bristling masts and a gleaming hull, the Pillar is more than a fair match for any other ship upon the seas.
Guild Influence
The Guild of Shapers have the greatest influence over the city at the moment, providing most of your backing and resources. They have poured a great deal into this venture, and stand to lose much should it fail.
The Guild of Venturers has little direct influence over the colony currently, though the foundation of a colony by the Shapers has greatly angered them towards you, causing them to place an embargo on all Guild dealings with your colony, harming your trading potential greatly. Dealings with them will be sour until you make steps towards appeasement.
The Guild of Workers has no influence on the colony at the moment. Their power in the continent is weak, and your colony does not even have a large enough workforce to currently even merit a guild representative.
The Guild of Striders has no influence on the colony at the moment. There are mercenary companies and exploratory groups across the continent, and they trust you will have need of their services sooner rather than later. The Nardū̆ are patient.
The Pharazarim have no influence over the colony at the moment. There is no wealth to be found here just yet.
Heroes
Imrazôr, the Sea-Lord of Târ Nîlon
Yourself. A distant descendant of the royal line of the Kings, you are a studied Shaper and a skilled loremaster, an expert in many arts. You are counted among the Wise, a master of old songs and secret words, studied in the deep secrets of the world and the old songs of the elves. The colony is yours, and by this right you are not only a master Shaper, but a Sea-Lord of Númenór, a lord of cave and cove and shore.
Ûrîphêl, Lady Shaper
A brilliant, cold, and ambitious Lady Shaper, Ûrîphêl is one of the greatest students the Houses of Learning have ever produced, and the youngest Lord Shaper in the history of the Guild. Despite all this, she abandoned a prestigious career and a life of luxury in Armenelos to accompany you on this colonial venture, for reasons as yet unknown to you. She brings with her her household, her retinue, and her own unmatched mind. Inscrutable to say the least, she is an enigma even to those close to her.
Inzilbeth, the Seastrider
Inzilbeth, called the Seastrider, is the famed captain of the Pillar of Heaven, who for years served as a renowned warrior in the fleets of Númenór, and afterwards continued to serve the Blessed Isle as an explorer and a venturer. She has seen the furthest corners of the world, and has earned herself a legendary reputation among the mortal men of the continent, whose grandfathers' fathers have for generations passed down awestruck tales of the Pillar of Heaven and it's captain. One of the most accomplished mariners to ever grace the western seas, she has joined your decidedly land-bound venture out of obligation for your old friendship.
The Realms of Middle-Earth
Numenor is mightiest among the powers of the world in the Second Age, but they are not alone among the realms of Middle-Earth. The Elves and the Dwarves survive and persist still, in their golden forests and their iron halls. Here are listed those who would claim to be peers of the Blessed Isle:
Lorinand: The Land of the elven King Amdir, and his son Amroth. Beneath these golden eaves are gathered many of the Sindarin Elves, but also many of their cousins, the Noldorin Elves who survived the war with Sauron in the early Second Age, and so hold much of the knowledge and power of the dwindling Elven Race. The warriors of Lorinand, known as the Amdirim, are matchless in war.
Edhellond and Dor-en-Ernil: In the lands between the Anduin and the Gwathlo have settled a great host of Silvan Elves, the wood-elves of bough and birch, at mighty city called Edhellond, the Elf-Dwelling, ruled by the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. Their settlement on the shores of Belfalas coexists with a settlement of Numenoreans called Dor-en-Ernil, elf-friends who share land and love alike with the elves.
The Woodland Realm: Beneath the eaves of the mighty northern forest of Greenwood dwells Oropher the Elvenking, and his people, the Sindarin elves. Reclusive, isolated, and powerful, the Sindarin Elves dwell in relative peace in their sprawling northern forest, and deal little with Men or other Elves.
The Kingdom of Lindon: Known as Ossiriand in Elder Days, the land now called Lindon once stood upon the eastern borders of the continent of Beleriand, which is now lost beneath the waves. Here, the last of the High Elves of Elder Days, the Noldor who once brought ruin and fire upon the world, are gathered under the rule of their High King, Gil-Galad.
Khazad-Dum, the Dwarrowdelf: Beneath the Misty Mountains in the heart of Middle-Earth, the Longbeard Dwarves have tunneled a vast and mighty kingdom under the stone. Richer and more beautiful still than even the spires of Armenlos in Numenor is the Dwarrowdelf of Durin's Folk, greatest of all the mansions of the dwarves, that few men living have ever seen.
Rivendell, the Last Homely House: In the north of Minhiriath lies a mighty mansion fair and great in the wild, a place of learning and brotherhood unlike any in the world still. This is Rivendell, the Last Homely House, where dwells the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven and his people.
Mordor: In the east of Middle-Earth lies the Dark Land, Mordor, ruled by a spirit of horror and terror out of elder days: Sauron, the Dark Lord, called also the Enemy. In centuries gone by, he tricked the elves of Eregion into forging the Rings of Power, and created the One Ring to rule them all. Numenor is at constant war with his vast armies of orcs, trolls, and enslaved Men, led by his terrible and dreadful servants, the mysterious spirits called by Men the Nazgul, or the Nine. His armies are vast and mighty, and though Numenor has grown to become a match for him, the Dark Lord is yet a force to be reckoned with.
You enter the forest at mid-morning, with the sun shining down between the leaves, following a certain winding trail you learned of from a helpful bluejay. The trees are clustered thickly together in that way which only old forests are, forests which have never known the axe or the fire, and thus grew wild without fear. Ancient elms and beeches twist and wind around one another, thick roots winding in and out like serpents across the forest floor. Titan oaks loom out of the shadows, the largest the size of three grown men across, their clawed branches scraping at your head as you pass. The forest is still, silent almost as a tomb save for the crunching of your feet on the undergrowth. The air is thick and musty, heavy with the scent of growing things that have grown too old. You walk until the sun is no longer visible through the thickness of the tree-tops, and then you continue to walk still, pushing through thick boughs and dark branches even as the forest slides shut behind you. You continue until the darkness and the silence becomes interminable, until they press down so heavy and hard on your skull that the forest itself seems to breathe.
And then, all of a sudden, you realize that it is breathing.
Hoom.
The sound ruffles the leaves as it passes through the air, whispering over your skin like dry leaves. You are not sure how long you have been hearing it, but now that you are aware, it is quite unmistakable. It is a sound like branches ruffling and bark snapping, like roots splintering and green things growing old and unseen in the dark. It rumbles and shakes and you feel it in your chest.
Hoom.
The sound grows closer, followed by an echo of dry wood heaving and cracking.
Hoom.
You turn searching for the source of the sound, or for the trail you were following, but all around you there is only darkness, and trees as thick and tight together as nets.
Hoom.
And then he is there. A tree bends it's branches and unfolds it's legs and rolls massive shoulders like oaken logs and you realize too late that it is not a tree at all. Trees do not have legs like yew trunks or arms as thick around as cypresses or a chest as thick and vast as any oak in the forest, a chest which rises slowly and languidly with a cracking creaking sound that shakes the air in your skull.
Hoom.
He is at least twice your size, tall enough that the horned branches of his head scrape the bottom leaves of the forest canopy some fifteen feet above, and each of his mighty footsteps sends tremors through the forest floor. His skin is old grey bark the color of metal, which snaps and shivers as he moves. Two bright points of light shine out from sockets in the aboreal skull, gleaming like torches. Beneath it all hangs a tangled beard of moss and heather that scrapes the ground. His breathing is like a thunderclap now, each breath battering at your eardrums and vibrating your bones.
Hoom.
There is a deep rolling sound from inside the mighty chest. After a handful of seconds, you realize it is a word.
"EDAIN."
The word is followed by a rustling of leaves and snapping of bark as the Ent -- for the tree-man could be nothing else -- looms down closer to you. You had heard the Ents to be tree-men, but there is more tree than man in that dark face, and those gleaming eyes seem clouded and distant. You know well that many of the Onodrim who remain in the forests of Arda are half-wild, raging things, less tree-herders and moreso particularly old and angry trees. Indeed, the lumbering tree-giant's voice is creaky and stilted, as if he has not used it in many years, and when he finally speaks again, it spills out as one long furious rush of air and crackling wood that takes you a moment to decipher.
You raise your hand in an ancient greeting of nature, taught to your ancestors by the elves long ago. "Hail, Onodrim. I mean no harm, and come as a friend and a neighbor."
"FRIEND?" The Onod stirs at that, bristling and rising to his full thorny height. His voice is slower and more deliberate when he speaks again, as if, with effort, he is remembering how.
"I SMELLYOURSINS ON THE SEA! THEY SCREAM STILL! YOU HAVE MADE BOARDSOFTHEIR BONES AND TIMBERSOFTHEIRROOTS, BUT I SMELL THEM, SHIP-MAKER!"
"Our ships are old, Master Onod, and were not cut from your herds. We have no need of more."
"NEED? HOOM, THE TALL MEN ALWAYS HAVE NEED. NEED? FROM NORTH TO SOUTH TO FARTHEST EAST YOU HAVE BURNT AND CHOPPED AND HACKED AND HEWED! NEED? NEED? YOU SPEAK OF NEED?!"
An unfortunate choice of words, it seems.
The forest cracks around you, vines rippling and tugging from the earth, whipping snakelike into the air. The undergrowth writes threateningly under your boots, and you become aware of how close and how heavy the branches of the forest hang to your head. The whole wood seems to echo and rattle with that word: Need. It shakes in the leaves and whispers in the bending bark, hissing violently in your ear from all directions.
The Onod leers down at you, his eyes like furious stars in the darkness. You are not sure if one such as he has need of air, but nonetheless, his chest heaves with rage.
"I REMEMBER WHEN ALL THE LAND WAS WOOD, AND ALL THE EARTH WAS UNDER-BOUGH. THEN THEY CAME OVER THE WATER, CUTTING AND BURNING AND BREAKING! WHAT NEED HAD THEY THEN?"
The Ent's voice is more solid and stable than ever before -- and more threatening, too. The forest looms dark around you, and you know with a grim certainty that if you turned and ran now, you would never see the sun again. You have a century of knowledge in your skull, and you rattle through it desperately for knowledge on the Ents. What little there is, even in Numenor, is sparse. The tree-men have walked this land since before the time of sun and star, and were already ancient when the first men awoke in the utter east. They are old, so old that when they first walked alone they had no tongue, for there was no speech in all the world: they learned to talk from the first elves, who sang with the trees when the world was young.
Ah. There.
"Len suilon, i cherdir galadbavron. Man i eneth lîn?"
The elvish words roll over your tongue like water, and the very woods shudder as they leave your lips. The forest air seems to lose of it's leaden quality, and the darkness that had rushed in around you shrinks back. The looming branches hesitate, seeming for a moment less like claws and more like simple wood, sure and true. Nature knows the tongue of the elves, for it was the First Speech ever heard on Middle-Earth. It was the tongue with which the elves sang to the trees in the years before the sun.
It was the tongue with which they brought friendship to the ents.
The tree-titan pauses as if struck. The moss-beard trembles. The starlike eyes shine bright. The forest is, for a moment, still.
"I HAVE NOT...hoom, I have not heard that tongue in a long time."
The massive ent shakes, and perhaps it is merely a trick of the light, but he does not seem to loom half so large, or look quite so fierce. The creak of his breath is less the bellowing of a dread forge and more the whistling of wind between leaves.
"Hoom. Forgive me, master Elf-Friend. Pah! I have wandered long alone in the darkness, and it seems I have forgotten my own manners. There were others in the woods, but they are long gone and I am alone and very old. I have begun to forget myself in my age, and my temper win the best of me."
He bends the great head to peer down into your own eyes, stroking the tangled beard. A wood-vole scampers up one of his shoulders, then vanishes into an ear.
"To answer your question, little one, I had many names when these woods stretched from sea to sea, in tongue of elf and bird and man as well, but I have long since forgotten them all, save one. Angalpar, I was named by the elves when the stars were new. In your speech it would be...hoom hoom...Ironbark. You may call me by this name, if you must call me any name. Mae Govannen, Tarcil."
Tarcil. High-man, in the Elven tongues.
You bow. "You have no need to apologize, Master Ironbark. We all stray in old age. I am Imrazôr, Belrubên's heir and Zainabeth's son, steward of these lands in the name of Tar-Calmacil the King. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, on behalf of myself and my people, and I greet you in friendship. Mae govannen, Angalpar."
The ent stares at you for a long, curious moment. "You are a strange one, to speak the elf tongues so freely and cheerily, and to bow to ents in friendship. Long has it been since I heard the voices of men sing in the speech of the elves. Your people frown on old things now, on ents and elves and trees alike, and on the tongue they share. It has been lifetimes of your people, Tarcil, since men would call me friend."
"Not all of us have forgotten the old ways, master Ent, or the old words with them. There live some still on Numenor who are friends of all that is old and kind."
The ent lets out a loud bark, an echoing laugh that rings in the forest. "Ironbark, the old and kind! Old perhaps, but I fear I am too old now for kindness. Fair words fall from fair lips, but do fair deeds follow, I wonder? Steward, you name yourself, but these lands have had stewards long before you, Tarcil, and though many are now gone or forgotten, one at least remains."
"I am a steward of men, and yourself a steward of the earth. Our charges not need conflict, nor come to odds."
The Ent snorts again. "Would that it could be so, Tarcil."
"It may," you insist. "The Ents were friends to the first men, and sheltered us when we were young and fled the dark. Stands there any reason why they cannot share the same goodwill with the Numenoreans they shared with our ancestors?"
Ironbark rolls his neck with a creaking sound like the sighing of branches. He is, you realize as he moves, so very very old. You and all your years are a single blink of those gleaming eyes. "There were many Ents then, and so few men. You were naked and small and afraid. You are naked no more, and taller and taller, and your fear has made you cruel. That first foolish kindness has been repaid with steel and smog and fire. There are Men on every shore under the sun, yet where have all the Ents gone, and where are all the Entwives?"
You frown. "They were waylaid by the Enemy, and driven from their lands. It was not men, but the Power that rules in Mordor that has wrought such evil on your people."
Ironbark chuckles again. It is an old laugh. There is no humor in it. "Do they tell you so little, on the Blessed Isle? Not all evils done under the sun can be laid at the feet of Mordor's master. Run back to your tall king, and ask him why there are no tree-sheperds left in all the north."
You open your mouth to speak, but the ent cuts you off with a sigh like oaks splintering. "Go. I was angered before, but now it has settled, and I am...hoom, I do not know what I am. I am old. I am so old and I have changed so much, and yet you and yours remain the same. Have you learned nothing then, in four thousand years? Go, Tarcil, before I remember my rage."
The great ent waves his hand. The undergrowth shrinks away, the tree-branches fall back, and as if remembering itself, the old trail you followed through the forest shrinks out of the darkness, winding away towards sunlit lands.
You consider your words, but find none. Instead, you bow deeply. "Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta."
"Would that they remembered how." The Ent bows creakily, then turns away. In a moment he fades into the undergrowth, indistinguishable from the looming trees he shepherds.
You stare into the forest after him for a time, then turn down the way you came. The forest sighs as you leave, as if the trees themselves are whispering a farewell.
New Contact: Ironbark, the Tree-Shepherd
You are the first of the envoys you have sent out to Târ Nîlon's neighbors to return, and news of the tree-herder you found amid the eaves ripples through your colony. The Onodrim were legends in the days of the grandfathers of your people's grandfathers, and it has been long rumored in the Halls of Learning that there are none now left in the world, or at least not in lands where men dwell. You keep his final, cryptic words on the fate of the Ents of the north to yourself, making a mental note to investigate the matter when the opportunity arises. The Ent makes for an uneasy neighbor, at least at this early stage -- your farmers and woodsmen are more cautious at the borders of the wood now, and some on the fringes of the rapidly growing city, far from immediate aid, have taken to treating the trees with a wary reverence.
The recruiting and training of the militia goes better than you could have hoped. Though lacking in the martial tradition of the Hyarnustari, the men and women of your colony are stout and hale-hearted, and take with zeal to the idea of training to defend their new homes. They have quickly fallen in love with this land, and there is no shortage of volunteers for Inzilbeth's men and your own repurposed household guard to whip into shape. Old veterans and ex-soldiers among your people volunteer to assume leadership positions, helping organize the militia into location-based troops with a rough command structure. Though far from an army, or the dedicated mercenary forces of the Guild of Striders, your people are Numenoreans, the high men who have mastered the world. They are stronger, faster, and tire more slowly than other kindreds of mankind -- seven hundred of them in battle array are a formidable prospect, armed with farming implements or no. In just a matter of weeks, your impromptu militia has become a force in which your people may place their safety and their trust.
Critical result! The militia has been formed, and though lacking in any military traditions, their heart and morale more than make up for deficiencies in their training.
Some weeks after your venture into the forest, Inzilbeth returns, her neck adorned with strange jewelry and carvings of studded bone, bearing news from the wilds. She has been well-treated by the Middle-Men, who have taken her to meet one of their great chieftains, a man by the name of Braelor. The Enedwaithrim are wild men, and bold men, but they are long unchanged by the passing of the years. The wood-lord she was granted an audience with is not unlike his great-grandfather, whom Inzilbeth knew in younger days, and his pride and his concerns are much the same. She mentions that foremost on the wildland chief's mind was the specter of war. His people have known strife in recent memory, strife not with orcs or things of the enemy, but with other men. Oddly, he was hesitant to speak deeply on the matter. He and all his people have little love lost for the tall men and their tall ships, but Inzilbeth's persuasions have made them open to a meeting to discuss their relationship with Târ Nîlon. Should you wish it, the wild chieftain shall present himself at the city to break words.
A few days after Inzilbeth's return, another of your envoys comes bearing news from the north. He has made the journey over hill and field and fen to the ford of the River Gwathlo, to Tharbad the fortress of the King, Numenor's lonely outpost in these lonely lands.
It is a fortress no more. Tharbad, the envoy reports, has overgrown it's walls. Thatch huts and longhouses sprawl out from the redoubt on the banks of the Gwathlo, and the ford itself is bridged, a great stone work in the Numenorean style, on the other side of which have sprung up yet more houses and halls. Tharbad might more properly be called a town -- or a city, as the Middle-Men reckon it. The streets are dirt, for the most part, but some are even cobbled, and the Middle-Men who walk them do not wear the furs and leathers to which their people are accustomed, but go clad in finer clothes yet, with brooches of silver and great golden armbands. Your envoy was brought to the castle itself, great parts of which lie now in ruin, and given audience with the Warden of Tharbad.
His name, your envoy reports, is Hazrabân, a tall man with eyes like dark rivers. He is the son of the son of the son of the first Warden, who was appointed to rule these lands nearly a thousand years ago, at the close of the War of the Elves and Sauron. He has inherited the remit of his ancestors, and the lordship of the river. Tharbad is his, and the Gwathlo besides. None may pass it whom he does not permit. At the close of their short meeting, your envoy questioned him on the state of Tharbad and on the dwellings about it, and his reply was simple:
'Numenor left. We, so few in number, made do. The Middle-Men came against us with fire and swords, and so we mastered the Middle-Men. The garrison remains.'
Your envoy marks caution. These men of Tharbad are wild, half-native men with the blood of Numenor. Their fathers passed on their tongue and their swords, but it remains to be seen if they have inherited their love for the land of the star -- a land many of them have never seen. He is cautious with his words, but some among your retinue are not, and a few among them even dare to mutter the word on everyone's minds, their voices thick with distaste:
Halfbreeds.
Diplomatic Opportunities Unlocked:
The Lord of the Middle-Men: Braelor, a proud chieftain of the men who have dwelt in these lands since time immeorial, has offered to come pay his respects to the Sea-Lord at the mouth of the Isen. Take him up on the offer, if you wish.
The Master of the Gwathlo: Hazrabân, the scion of the Wardens of Tharbad and the lord of the lonliest and northernmost of Numenor's military bastions, has called you to audience with him. If you wish to break words with this wild and lonely magistrate, or learn of this 'mastery' he claims to have achieved over the Middle-Men, or how, exactly, he and his have 'made do', you will have to travel to Tharbad yourself.
One final envoy returns last of all from the north, riding down from the Misty Mountains cold. He has met with the dwarves on the plain. There were...communications issues. He had to speak to them in a Mannish dialect of the east, and they to him through a series of translators. But he knows who they are now, and what they want. They are the Blacklock Dwarves, Vâr's people from the Red Mountains in the distant east where even the Tall Men go not. They have marched here six thousand leagues, over plain and desert and mountain and bog. They have marched for years. They have come to avenge the sins of Durin, and work fell deeds for the death of their ancestor Vâr, father of their race. They would not speak of his death, or of the wrong done to them, save to say that they swore long ago and far away that none among their kindred would ever walk beneath the earth or dwell in halls of stone until Var's bones lay right in stone.
Fascinated, your envoy reports that he asked them how they sought to make his death right. At that, their chief, a great dwarf-lord wearing a mighty black helm, laughed a laugh like the snoring of dragons.
The Blacklocks have come to win the Ring of Vâr. They have come to right the ancient wrong. They have come, above all, to lay waste to Durin's folk.
Opportunity Unlocked:
The War of the Blacklocks and the Longbeards: War is come to the Misty Mountains. Durin's Folk, the Longbeard Dwarves of Khazad-Dum, are assailed by their kindred out of the deep east, a strange and warlike race of Dwarves who shun cavern and cave, and dwell instead in the sun. Their grievances, it seems, run as deep and old as any mine ever delved beneath the world, and the mountainpeaks blaze with smoke as the dwarves make war on the dwarves. And at the heart of it all burns like a coal that word: Ring. The Rings of the Dwarves were lost long ago, or so it is said in the Houses of Learning. Perhaps the Houses of Learning do not know everything there is to be known.
The Shapers have sent apprentices and surveyors across the width of the land, searching all along the Angren for suitable stores of stone for your quarries. They have returned with four prospective options that require your input.
-[] Tar Heldrad: The most promising of the potential quarries, Tar Heldrad is a wide hill to the north that lies atop several rich veins of precious ore and massy stone. It is also a place sacred to the Middle-Men -- their altars and halls pockmark the surface of the hill, and your scouts report they perform strange rituals there on many moonlit nights. Many of the Shapers who followed you here have thrown their support behind this option. -[] Talad Luin: First named by an explorer of the Venturer's Guild who sighted it from the prow of his ship, Talad Luin is a great field of blue grass that stretches along the coast of Enedwaith to the west of the city. The explorer so loved the sight of the blue fronds in the wind that he penned a poem, the Bâtha lo Ayadda, which tells of his love for the fair shore, that later became famous in the Blessed Isle. The Shapers have determined that the color of the grass is due to a particular quality of the minerals in the earth below, and that as such the storied field would make for a good quarry. A number of them agitate for this option. -[]The Isenfields: Called also the Iron Fields or the Angrenmarsh, the Isenfields are a wide region of marshy land a league or two from the city, fed by a tributary of the river. A distant fen thick with flies, your surveyors nonetheless report signs of promising deposits of good stone there. The fens are used by the Middle-Men as a source of bog iron, but if they could be dealt with and the issue of transportation solved, the Angrenmarsh might prove a valuable source of building material. -[] Amon Megil: The last of the prospective quarries is Amon Megil, the Hill of the Sword, a great hill between the Gwathlo and the Angren. In ancient times it was the site of a craft-hall of the mighty elven craft-lords of Eregion, the Gwaith-i-Merdain, and it said that when the Enemy came upon their lands, the Jewel-Smiths made a mighty stand here to hold the power of Mordor back. They failed. The hill has been bare for centuries now, but your surveyors say all signs indicate rich stores of stone and precious materials surrounding the hill, no doubt a reason why the Gwaith-i-Merdain erected their redoubt here all those centuries ago. Legend holds that there are ancient elven treasures beneath the hill -- and the bones of doomed elves beside them. It is the furthest possible quarry from the site of your colony, but the rewards might well be worth the risk.
You have also decided to expand the farmsteads, granting leave to the farmers to take more and more land in order to produce food. You are not exactly running on a shortage of clear, fertile land around the city, and so are far from having to micromanage who gets to settle where. However, as your colony grows, and it's stomach with it, you will either need to find a reliable source of food through trade, or expand the farms further still. It is not an immediate concern, but it is something to keep at mind.
As the city grows, the Shapers begin to build rudimentary forges, pale echoes of the great craft-halls of Numenor. They are eager to resume their work, and take to the task of constructing appropriate facilities with aplomb. The designs and locations for a wall are sketched out and mapped, and need only a reliable source of stone to begin construction.
Last among your concerns is the matter of the Rangers. Many of the men of Hyarrostar who sailed here with you have already become adept at living amid the wilds of this new land, traveling faster on foot through forest than others might on horse upon a road. Those who have taken to this skill feed their families by trapping and hunting, but they also provide eyes and ears across the wild lands you have come to settle. These scouts move faster and quicker than warriors in full battle array, and you imagine they might serve as an able warning system should danger threaten the city. You form a small volunteer force of these hunters, who, lightly clad and armed with bows, shall stalk the forests in Numenor's name.
They are established just in time. Two weeks after you first send them out, a young Ranger reports finding an odd footprint in her travels. Black claws in the mud along the shore, unmistakable to any with eyes to see.
Orcs.
Pick Ten (10) options. You may personally assign yourself and Inzilbeth each to any votes you pick, making them personal options. As you have 2 heroes, you may make two votes personal options. Specify which character you want to send on which mission in the plan vote. Uriphel will be busy until the next turn, and cannot be assigned to an option.
Growth:The city begins to grow, and with it's growth come a host of issues and decisions for you to make. These may be put off until later, but absent input your people may do what they will.
[] The Mariners: You direct your Shapers to focus their efforts on the harbors and coastal regions, which will allow your mariners to begin making expeditions to the Blessed Isle and other colonies of Numenor. The seafaring Romennans will be gladdened by such attentions. [] The Wide Woods: The woods that ring the mouth of the Isen have already been pushed back in order to accommodate your growing colony. Push them back further yet, and gain valuable wood for sale and land on which to settle. There is another steward. He watches with bright eyes. [] Give Excess Land To The Shapers: Room to grow. Room to build. Room to make. They may love you for it. [] Give Excess Land To The Milita: Room to train. Room to fight. Room to learn how to kill, and kill well. It is the sort of thing that breeds loyalty. [] Give Excess Lands To The Farmers: A city is built on till and plow and seed. There is enough now. Will there be always? Set aside more, just in case.
Defense: You are not alone in Middle-Earth, and Numenor the Blessed has many enemies. The defense of your fledgling colony is one of your foremost priorities.
[] Establish Outposts: Hovels in the wood. Towers on the hills. Eyes in the night. The city shall not be approached unawares. [] Expand the Militia: Enlist more volunteers to the defense of the city, should you think it necessary. [] The Artifice of War: You have seen war in far Harad, and know something of the engines of killing and destruction, of the mighty machines your people have loosed in the southern Jungles. Some of these principles might be applied to the defense of your fledgling colony. (Requires Imrazor)
[] Requisition Weapons: You have few weapons or armaments at the moment, but you could request a stock of such from the Shapers...putting you more in their favor. [] Establish An Alarm System: Horns on the heights. Flames in the dark. A warning in the night: Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake! [] Orcs: Orcs. From end to end they scour Middle-Earth, leaving filth and ruin and woe in their wake. They are in the north and the south and the west and the east, more virulent and violent than any beast of earth or sky. They are everywhere. And now, it seems, they are here. Send scouts to pick the land apart for them. And then, hunt. (This is a repeatable option)
Diplomacy:You are not alone in Middle-Earth. There are many realms and powers which dot the land, some more receptive than others. Making friends with even a few could ease many future worries in the days and years to come. Lacking a harbor and crews to man your ships, you must send all emissaries by horse and foot, limiting your immediate diplomatic options to those polities located relatively close to the City, in Eriador.
[] The Lord of the Middle-Men: Braelor, a proud chieftain of the Enedwaithrim who have dwelt in these lands since time immeorial, has offered to come pay his respects to the Sea-Lord at the mouth of the Isen. Take him up on the offer, if you wish. (requires Imrazor)
[] The Master of the Gwathlo: Hazrabân, the scion of the Wardens of Tharbad and the lord of the lonliest and northernmost of Numenor's military bastions, has called you to audience with him. If you wish to break words with this wild and lonely magistrate, or learn of this 'mastery' he claims to have achieved over the Middle-Men, or how, exactly, he and his have 'made do', you will have to travel to Tharbad yourself. (requires hero)
[] Send An Envoy To Lond Daer: Once the mighty harbor of Vinyalonde in days gone by, the port city now known as Lond Daer, sat on the mouth of the river Gwathlo, has declined since it's glory days. It's once-packed harbors are bare, and a dwindling population of mariners and woodsmen eke out a living among it's pillared halls. It is said the men of Lond Daer keep close contact with the elves. [] Send An Envoy To Rivendell: Imladris, or Rivendell, is an elvish stronghold deep in the heartlands of Minhiriath. Founded and ruled by the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven, it serves as a bastion of wisdom and learning in these later days of the world, projecting Elvish might into all eastern Eriador. The elves of Rivendell are force to be reckoned with, and are great traders and loremasters besides. It would not be unwise to make their acquaintance. [] Send An Envoy To Lindon: Far to the north, beyond the Blue Mountains, lies the Elvish realm of Lindon, the mightiest realm between the mountains and the sea. Here rules undying Gil-Galad, the High King of whom the songs are sung and the greatest of all the elven-lords of Middle-Earth. Though their might has dwindled much since they warred with Sauron, the northern Elves are still great in strength and skill, a fading echo of the glory of Elder Days. (Takes two turns) [] Send an Envoy to Dor-en-Ernil: The sister-settlements of Dor-en-Ernil and Edhellond lie far to the southeast in the Bay of Belfalas beyond the Anduin. Populated by both men and elves, the greatest power in these lands are the Lord and Lady of Edhellond, the Elf-prince Celeborn and his wife, the Elf-Lady Galadriel. Belfalas is a rich land and a good land, packed thick with food and fair things, and establishing a relationship with it's masters might benefit your city. . (Takes two turns) [] The War of the Blacklocks and the Longbeards: War is come to the Misty Mountains. Durin's Folk, the Longbeard Dwarves of Khazad-Dum, are assailed by their kindred out of the deep east, a strange and warlike race of Dwarves who shun cavern and cave, and dwell instead in the sun. Their grievances, it seems, run as deep and old as any mine ever delved beneath the world, and the mountainpeaks blaze with smoke as the dwarves make war on the dwarves. And at the heart of it all burns like a coal that word: Ring. The Rings of the Dwarves were lost long ago, or so it is said in the Houses of Learning. Perhaps the Houses of Learning do not know everything there is to be known.
-[] Send an envoy to Durin's Folk (requires hero)
-[] Send an envoy to the Blacklocks (requires hero) [] Ironbark: In the deeps of the Iron Forest dwells an ent, an old thing with old eyes. He is no foe, not yet. But he is no friend of men, you do not think. Not anymore. Break words with him, and see if the strength of oak and yew might be bent in friendship. (requires hero)
Opportunity:There are a variety of miscellaneous opportunities available to you which could benefit either yourself or the colony. You can also launch explorations of the surrounding lands and seas from here, but be careful -- Middle-Earth is not safe, nor is it tamed, and not all you send out may return.
[] Fulfill Guild Map Contracts: The Guild of Venturers has a permanent contract for any new maps of inland Middle-Earth, for which they pay lump sums to colonies and individuals who fulfill it. You currently have 1 map for sale, and could reach out to sell it, earning money and reputation with the Venturers. []The Pukel-Paths: Ancient, winding paths have been cut into the White Mountains, guarded by twisted pagan statues in the shape of squat, monstrous men. You could send scouts within, to find the men who cut these paths and learn their purpose. [] The Misty Mountains: The Misty Mountains which straddle the spine of Eriador are some of the tallest mountains in Middle-Earth. From the great outposts of the dwarves to the deep caves of the goblin-kings, there are many secrets to be found amid the snowy peaks. You send men into the high mountains to explore and map them. [] The Land of the Ringmakers: Eregion, to your north, was once one of the great Elvish realms until it's destruction by the Dark Lord in the War of the Elves and Sauron long ago. Here dwelt the elf-smiths whom the Enemy tricked into creating the Rings of Power, and amid the ruins of their halls and cities lie ancient artifacts from the glory days of the Elves. You send explorers and riders into this land to map it. Mapping Eregion is the first step towards beginning to search it's ruins for the lore-treasures the Shapers hope lie within. [] The Gwathlo: The Gwathlo, or the Angathurush, is the great river which marks the northern border of Enedwaith and Minhiriath. Traveling it's length and fording it is the first step to an exploration of Minhiriath. Minhiriath was once well-mapped, having been the first land settled by the Numenoreans, but nigh on a thousand years have passed since explorers combed every inch of this land. Who knows how it has changed since then? The Guild of Venturers might pay good coin for new maps. [] Contact the Striders: Your scouts and repurposed mariners serve well enough, but opening a contract with one of the mercenary forces scattering Middle-Earth would both allow you access to professional explorers and a dedicated force of trained soldiers. [] Appease the Venturers: Currently, no Guild-licensed traders or explorers are permitted to visit your growing colony, stifling trade and travel from the mainland. If you have enough money, reputation, or believe you can make a go of it, appeal to the Venturers. If you offer enough coin, or your colony has grown too large for them to feasibly strangle it in it's cradle, they may pay you heed and stop their embargo.
QM ANNOUNCEMENT: No votes not in plan form will be accepted. There Is a twelve hour moratorium before voting can begin. No votes before this time will be accepted.
Reaction posts and Omakes are rewarded.
A new realm has been added to the informational screen and the World lorepost.
In the early centuries of the Second Age, the Dark Lord Sauron tricked the Elf-Smiths of Eregion into forging nineteen rings of unmatched power. He came to them in fair disguise as a teacher and a helper and friend, and under his tutelage first nine, then seven, then three rings they made, wrought with the deep old magic of the world that does not fade. But the elves were betrayed. In secret their Enemy made another, final ring, which would be master over all the others: the One Ring, called in later days the Ruling Ring. Taken altogether, these twenty bands were the Rings of Power, which brought great suffering to the world after their making.
Here are named these twenty, and their histories insofar as they are known to the Men of Numenor.
The Three, or the Elven Rings. Forged by the hand of Celebrimbor, the greatest smith of the Second Age, and Lord of Eregion before his dying. They were made without the knowledge of the Enemy, and do not corrupt or manipulate as the others do, though the One Ring permits him to look unseen upon their bearers from afar. They grant their wearers great power to resist evil and the passing of time, for they were made to preserve and protect. Their names are Narya, Vilya, and Nenya, and all three are kept close by mighty lords of the Elves. Nenya, the Ring of Water, is held in the guardianship of the Elf-Lady Galadriel. Narya, the Ring of Fire, was given to the safekeeping of the High King Gil-Galad, and entrusted by him in later times to his steward, the Elf-lord Cirdan. The strongest of the Three, Vilya, the Ring of Air, was given by Gil-Galad to his herald and chief servant, the Elf-Lord Elrond.
The Seven, or the Rings of the Dwarves, which are called also the Rings of Earth. At first hidden by Celebrimbor, he surrendered them to Sauron after torture, and the Dark Lord later gave them one by one to the seven chieftains of the Dwarven clans. Those who wear them came to possess wealth and splendor unrivaled, building for themselves mighty hoards under the earth. The dwarves are as stubborn as the stone from which they come, and thus their rings cannot twist them into Sauron's service -- however, they guide their wearers imperceptibly towards greed and ruin, as surely as stone is sanded by the sea. These Rings bear the names of the chieftains who bear them. Foremost of their number is the Ring of Durin, first borne by the greatest of all the Dwarf-Lords, Durin III of Khazad-Dum, and held after his passing by his heirs, who are kings under the mountains. It is said that also in their possession is the Ring of Bror, given once to the Broadbeam Dwarves, though it is not known how it came to be in their grasp. In the Blue Mountains, the Firebeard Dwarves hold the Ring of Uri, a great lord of their dwindling house, who slew two dragons in the dawn of the Age, and built their bones into his hall. Of the eastern dwarf-Houses and their rings, the fate of only one is known: the Ring of Rhaz, a king of the Ironfoot Dwarves, who it is said delved a mighty hall to rival Khazad-Dum deep in the Red Mountains far to the east.
The Nine, or the Rings of Men, called also the Black Rings, the most well-known of all the Rings made by Celebrimbor, whose fate has been recorded the most thoroughly of all. Nine Rings Sauron gave in darker days to nine kings and princes of the race of Men. These Rings, of the nineteen made in Eregion, were the only ones who fulfilled utterly the wicked purpose for which they were made. They wormed their way into the hearts of men, brought down empires and kingdoms, and created for Sauron nine awful servants who would be his heralds and his captains forever after -- those Ringwraiths of whom much is written, the Nazgul that are forever undying, who ride on steeds of shadow and speak with voices of death. The Nine Rings glimmer on their fingers, the most ruinous and seductive of all the works and arts of Sauron...save one.
The One, the Ruling Ring, the Ring of Power, the Master Ring -- the last ring, and the greatest. Forged in secret by the Dark Lord in Mount Doom to rule all other Rings, it is one of the mightiest artifacts ever created in Arda. It bears bound in itself the greater part of the spirit and will of it's maker, a piece of his hatred and malignancy made solid and real, and it amplifies his strength tenfold, making him a force unrivaled among the powers of Middle-Earth. The Ruling Ring permits it's Master to see and surveil unawares the bearers of the other Rings, to exert his influence over them, and to have mastery over their souls and destinies unto the end of days. While the One is with him, the Dark Lord cannot fall to mortal arms, and all the armies of all the world could not hope to stand against him. Even now it burns bright on his finger where he sits ruling on his dark throne in the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie.
The Lesser Rings, though not numbered or counted, are those rings made as essays in ring-craft by the smiths of Eregion, to prepare for the making of the greater Rings. They have minor powers of their own, making their bearers faster, stronger, or wiser, though not all three, and never to the same degree as the greater Rings might. The Lesser Rings are unadorned, bearing no jewel or gilt, and after the fall of Eregion, were lost and scattered across Middle-Earth. Some rest even now upon the fingers of mighty Numenorean lords, or in the vaults of the dwarves, or around the necks of Haradrim chieftains. Each and every one of them, from lesser to least, is still (even if dimly so) under the power of the One, though they cannot fully bend a wearer into it's service as their cousins might. Their influence is more subtle still -- an inopportune moment of rage, an uncharacteristic twist of jealousy, a loss of empathy at a moment when it might have been most needed.
All of the great Rings have certain shared powers. Uniformly, they unnaturally extend the lives of their bearers and amplify their natural strengths and powers beyond imagination. A great speaker will find that his voice is now immeasurably seductive, while a skilled warrior will become a warlord without equal in the world. All mortals who bear the Rings are stronger, faster, haler, greater in flesh and form and spirit than ever before. So long as they wear their Ring, they will never die, though they may become worse than death. All the Rings, but especially those under Sauron's power, pierce the thin veil between this world and the Unseen world of wraiths, allowing the bearers to perceive ghosts, to turn invisible by shifting their flesh into the spirit world, and to exert varying forms of control over dead and unseen things. The Rings have wants and wills of their own, being capable of impelling their bearers to protect and shelter them, and of inspiring ring-lust or even obsession in the weaker-minded. Despite their properties, it is said the elves do not wear the Three save in the most dire circumstance, for all the Rings of Power, no matter their making, are under the dominion and the desire of him who is Lord of the Rings.
One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all,
And in the darkness bind them.
Oh shit its back
hell yeah
unfortunately a couple spots of bad news. Kinstrife among the dwarves, Race Stuff in tharbad, and the Ent doesnt like us.
Still, nothing some judicious planning and some luck cant handle.
So I had to look up the Blacklocks since it does not ring a bell at all to me, but apparently they fell under the sway of a sorceress and were used as an army against other dwarves. Joy....
Also that information on the fate of Ents to the North... oh boy.
And Orcs, time to get the military ready because Kings Men or Faithful all can agree to fight them.
@Telamon is the quarries options separate from the categories below?
So I had to look up the Blacklocks since it does not ring a bell at all to me, but apparently they fell under the sway of a sorceress and were used as an army against other dwarves. Joy....
Any way I think for the quarry I want to go with the third option it may have some short term problems but that can be solved in short order. Beyond that I want to continue reaching out to others and building up the city ideally the docks next. Though with Orc's being spotted in the region it's best to handle them before they become to big a threat.
-[] Tar Heldrad: The most promising of the potential quarries, Tar Heldrad is a wide hill to the north that lies atop several rich veins of precious ore and massy stone. It is also a place sacred to the Middle-Men -- their altars and halls pockmark the surface of the hill, and your scouts report they perform strange rituals there on many moonlit nights. Many of the Shapers who followed you here have thrown their support behind this option.
Naturally, the most promising of the four quarries is a good way to absolutely enrage the Middle-Men by desecrating a place that's sacred to them. Let's not take this.
-[] Talad Luin: First named by an explorer of the Venturer's Guild who sighted it from the prow of his ship, Talad Luin is a great field of blue grass that stretches along the coast of Enedwaith to the west of the city. The explorer so loved the sight of the blue fronds in the wind that he penned a poem, the Bâtha lo Ayadda, which tells of his love for the fair shore, that later became famous in the Blessed Isle. The Shapers have determined that the color of the grass is due to a particular quality of the minerals in the earth below, and that as such the storied field would make for a good quarry. A number of them agitate for this option.
It's a legendary and beautiful field, and I imagine a quarry would ruin it. Not sure if we can afford to avoid a good quarry because of good looks, but I imagine there's quite a few people in Numenor who would be very furious with us for ruining something so legendary that there's famous poems written about it.
-[]The Isenfields: Called also the Iron Fields or the Angrenmarsh, the Isenfields are a wide region of marshy land a league or two from the city, fed by a tributary of the river. A distant fen thick with flies, your surveyors nonetheless report signs of promising deposits of good stone there. The fens are used by the Middle-Men as a source of bog iron, but if they could be dealt with and the issue of transportation solved, the Angrenmarsh might prove a valuable source of building material.
Hmm, it's a fen, which is a pain, but it's also close. The other issue is what about the Middle-Men using it as a source of iron. Hopefully that's an issue that can be solved diplomatically and with trade.
-[] Amon Megil: The last of the prospective quarries is Amon Megil, the Hill of the Sword, a great hill between the Gwathlo and the Angren. In ancient times it was the site of a craft-hall of the mighty elven craft-lords of Eregion, the Gwaith-i-Merdain, and it said that when the Enemy came upon their lands, the Jewel-Smiths made a mighty stand here to hold the power of Mordor back. They failed. The hill has been bare for centuries now, but your surveyors say all signs indicate rich stores of stone and precious materials surrounding the hill, no doubt a reason why the Gwaith-i-Merdain erected their redoubt here all those centuries ago. Legend holds that there are ancient elven treasures beneath the hill -- and the bones of doomed elves beside them. It is the furthest possible quarry from the site of your colony, but the rewards might well be worth the risk.
Far away, but also the possibility of elven treasures. And the possibility of elves angry at the desecration of their dead and metaphorical (And possibly literal) looting of the corpses.
Overall, I'd say the third one is the best, or at least the one that's least likely to have someone murderously furious at us (unless the Isenfields are also under Ironbark's protection.)
A Plan Draft. Please don't vote for it yet, I'd like some discussion and feedback.
[ ] Plan Young and Old Quarry Site -[ ]The Isenfields: Called also the Iron Fields or the Angrenmarsh, the Isenfields are a wide region of marshy land a league or two from the city, fed by a tributary of the river. A distant fen thick with flies, your surveyors nonetheless report signs of promising deposits of good stone there. The fens are used by the Middle-Men as a source of bog iron, but if they could be dealt with and the issue of transportation solved, the Angrenmarsh might prove a valuable source of building material. Actions -[ ] The Mariners: You direct your Shapers to focus their efforts on the harbors and coastal regions, which will allow your mariners to begin making expeditions to the Blessed Isle and other colonies of Numenor. The seafaring Romennans will be gladdened by such attentions. -[ ] Establish Outposts: Hovels in the wood. Towers on the hills. Eyes in the night. The city shall not be approached unawares. -[ ] Establish An Alarm System: Horns on the heights. Flames in the dark. A warning in the night: Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake! -[ ] Orcs: Orcs. From end to end they scour Middle-Earth, leaving filth and ruin and woe in their wake. They are in the north and the south and the west and the east, more virulent and violent than any beast of earth or sky. They are everywhere. And now, it seems, they are here. Send scouts to pick the land apart for them. And then, hunt. -[ ] Orcs: Orcs. From end to end they scour Middle-Earth, leaving filth and ruin and woe in their wake. They are in the north and the south and the west and the east, more virulent and violent than any beast of earth or sky. They are everywhere. And now, it seems, they are here. Send scouts to pick the land apart for them. And then, hunt. -[ ] The Lord of the Middle-Men: Braelor, a proud chieftain of the Enedwaithrim who have dwelt in these lands since time immeorial, has offered to come pay his respects to the Sea-Lord at the mouth of the Isen. Take him up on the offer, if you wish. (requires Imrazor)
--[ ] Imrazor -[ ] Send An Envoy To Lond Daer: Once the mighty harbor of Vinyalonde in days gone by, the port city now known as Lond Daer, sat on the mouth of the river Gwathlo, has declined since it's glory days. It's once-packed harbors are bare, and a dwindling population of mariners and woodsmen eke out a living among it's pillared halls. It is said the men of Lond Daer keep close contact with the elves. -[ ] Ironbark: In the deeps of the Iron Forest dwells an ent, an old thing with old eyes. He is no foe, not yet. But he is no friend of men, you do not think. Not anymore. Break words with him, and see if the strength of oak and yew might be bent in friendship. (requires hero)
--[ ] Inzilbeth -[] The Pukel-Paths: Ancient, winding paths have been cut into the White Mountains, guarded by twisted pagan statues in the shape of squat, monstrous men. You could send scouts within, to find the men who cut these paths and learn their purpose. -[] The Land of the Ringmakers: Eregion, to your north, was once one of the great Elvish realms until it's destruction by the Dark Lord in the War of the Elves and Sauron long ago. Here dwelt the elf-smiths whom the Enemy tricked into creating the Rings of Power, and amid the ruins of their halls and cities lie ancient artifacts from the glory days of the Elves. You send explorers and riders into this land to map it. Mapping Eregion is the first step towards beginning to search it's ruins for the lore-treasures the Shapers hope lie within.
Quarry is the Isenfields as I've mentioned that it seems the least likely to homicidally enrage someone over destruction/desecration.
First off, getting a port up (is this part of the whole Numernorean Iron Harbor we agreed upon earlier @Telamon?) Then, since we've confirmed a hostile Orc presence, we get up outposts and an alarm system so we'll be able to rally the militia. Then a double action on hunting down the Orcs because Screw Sauron.
Meanwhile, Imrazor goes to meet the Middle-Men as he's required for that, and it's a good idea not to keep the Middle-Men waiting. I also want to continue diplomacy-ing with Ironbark, because we need to hash out some sort of agreement or getting onto speaking terms before our colonists' greed overcomes caution and they start chopping down more trees. And we will need lumber sooner rather than later, and we need to try and find a way that doesn't get Ironbark angrier than he already is at the Numenoreans.
I had a spare action, so I did it on sending an Envoy to Lond Daer (Rivendell I want a Hero on.) I don't want to send an envoy to the Dwarf War until we can send one to each party on the same turn to avoid looking like we're favoring one over the other (My instinct is to favor the Longbeards simply because we're hoping to be trading partners with them, but we are sorely lacking in the numbers to actually risk getting one side or the other angry.) So that'll wait until next turn.
And exploration into Eregion because that's what our sponsors want, and the Pukel-Paths because I'm curious.
I am wondering whether we should give some land to our large and enthusiastic militia, but I'm not sure what kind of consequences that'd have. I'm also wondering about focusing on getting interactions with the two Dwarven factions with our heroes instead.
Pardon the question/potential game complexity, @Telamon -- is there any option of using the quarry site as either something to discuss with the middle men (to guage importance of e.g. the bog) or as a bargaining chip?
I actually think this action is really important to take early. Though the colony is yet new and united, eventually we're going to see and face division (the miniature of Numenor itself splitting in an unstated civil war). While we have the chance, we should do as every regime in a divided state does and make sure we have a firm base of support.
-[ ]The Isenfields: Called also the Iron Fields or the Angrenmarsh, the Isenfields are a wide region of marshy land a league or two from the city, fed by a tributary of the river. A distant fen thick with flies, your surveyors nonetheless report signs of promising deposits of good stone there. The fens are used by the Middle-Men as a source of bog iron, but if they could be dealt with and the issue of transportation solved, the Angrenmarsh might prove a valuable source of building material
I admit that I'm somewhat worried about this action. Bogs aren't just a source of metal -- they're also plentiful sources of things like berries (and far in the future, peat). Admittedly I'm somewhat less confident about the following, but bogs are also important conservation wise: they're hard to restore, and serve as carbon sinks. I'm a little worried about it playing into the whole "numenoreans utterly destroy the land around them for resources" thing.
-[ ] The Mariners: You direct your Shapers to focus their efforts on the harbors and coastal regions, which will allow your mariners to begin making expeditions to the Blessed Isle and other colonies of Numenor. The seafaring Romennans will be gladdened by such attentions.
Not entirely sure which hero we should apply to this one. The Lady Shaper is perhaps another of the Wise, whereas Inzilbeth is a mariner -- one of the very people that has made their living on ships (which the ents bloody hate)
I admit that I'm somewhat worried about this action. Bogs aren't just a source of metal -- they're also plentiful sources of things like berries (and far in the future, peat). Admittedly I'm somewhat less confident about the following, but bogs are also important conservation wise: they're hard to restore, and serve as carbon sinks. I'm a little worried about it playing into the whole "numenoreans utterly destroy the land around them for resources" thing.
Yeah. Of course, the other options are to destroy a Middle-Men sacred site, a grassy plain that's legendary even in Numenor, or to set up camp in what's a ruined elven craft-hall filled with its dead (which I imagine has its own problems.)
Not entirely sure which hero we should apply to this one. The Lady Shaper is perhaps another of the Wise, whereas Inzilbeth is a mariner -- one of the very people that has made their living on ships (which the ents bloody hate)
Yeah. Of course, the other options are to destroy a Middle-Men sacred site, a grassy plain that's legendary even in Numenor, or to set up camp in what's a ruined elven craft-hall filled with its dead (which I imagine has its own problems.)
The problem with Amon Megil is that it's apparently quite far away from the Isenmouth, and therefore not as easily defended. If it gets attacked, by Orcs or Middle-Men or whoever, we won't be able to react in time to really do anything about it. That's the obvious downside, before we get into hypothetical problems with what might very well amount to desecration of Elven dead.
I was really tempted by the fourth option because of the whole elven treasures thing, but, given the track record both the First and the Second Age have of said treasures falling into the wrong hands...
I agree that the bog is the least bad location to turn into a quarry. We don't want to anger the Middle Men, and digging up the field will eventually get people pissed off at us. Quarries are never pretty, but we need stone to expand and build defenses. It feels like we're already starting down the path to corruption, but homes of wood and thatch don't do well against orcs and other enemies. If we could avoid completely destroying the bog and perhaps offer payment to the locals for control over it that'd be preferred. It'd go a long way to establishing ourselves as good neighbours and thoughtful stewards. To that end, I think we should definitely meet with the local lord. Hutning down orcs will probably get us some good will from the locals too.
I'd like to learn more about Tharbad but I don't know if we can spare the actions. It'd be extremely useful to learn how he's managed cut off from Numenor and to get on his good side, given what we expect will happen down the line. We're going to be in a similar situation, eventually, best to get prepared for it now. The wording on the expansion options has me somewhat concerned, given its phrased like we desire positive attention like love and loyalty from our people, while the farming hints that we may never be satisfied with enough. It's quite fitting and ominous given, well, the entire setting.
That's also why I'm suspicious about getting involved with any ring plot hooks. I don't think we're going to put together a Fellowship to throw the Ring into Mount Doom. A rather difficult prospect given Sauron still has said Ring in his possession, and I don't think we're in any position to launch a war against him. We're along for the ride in things far greater than us, and the move we can do is steer our ship as best we can.
[X] Plan How to Win Friends and Influence Shapers Quarry Site -[X]The Isenfields: Called also the Iron Fields or the Angrenmarsh, the Isenfields are a wide region of marshy land a league or two from the city, fed by a tributary of the river. A distant fen thick with flies, your surveyors nonetheless report signs of promising deposits of good stone there. The fens are used by the Middle-Men as a source of bog iron, but if they could be dealt with and the issue of transportation solved, the Angrenmarsh might prove a valuable source of building material. Actions -[X] The Mariners: You direct your Shapers to focus their efforts on the harbors and coastal regions, which will allow your mariners to begin making expeditions to the Blessed Isle and other colonies of Numenor. The seafaring Romennans will be gladdened by such attentions. - [X] Give Excess Land To The Shapers: Room to grow. Room to build. Room to make. They may love you for it. -[X] Establish Outposts: Hovels in the wood. Towers on the hills. Eyes in the night. The city shall not be approached unawares. -[X] Establish An Alarm System: Horns on the heights. Flames in the dark. A warning in the night: Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake! -[X] Orcs: Orcs. From end to end they scour Middle-Earth, leaving filth and ruin and woe in their wake. They are in the north and the south and the west and the east, more virulent and violent than any beast of earth or sky. They are everywhere. And now, it seems, they are here. Send scouts to pick the land apart for them. And then, hunt. -[X] The Lord of the Middle-Men: Braelor, a proud chieftain of the Enedwaithrim who have dwelt in these lands since time immeorial, has offered to come pay his respects to the Sea-Lord at the mouth of the Isen. Take him up on the offer, if you wish. (requires Imrazor)
--[X] Imrazor - [X] The Master of the Gwathlo: Hazrabân, the scion of the Wardens of Tharbad and the lord of the lonliest and northernmost of Numenor's military bastions, has called you to audience with him. If you wish to break words with this wild and lonely magistrate, or learn of this 'mastery' he claims to have achieved over the Middle-Men, or how, exactly, he and his have 'made do', you will have to travel to Tharbad yourself. (requires hero)
--[X] Inzilbeth -[X] The Pukel-Paths: Ancient, winding paths have been cut into the White Mountains, guarded by twisted pagan statues in the shape of squat, monstrous men. You could send scouts within, to find the men who cut these paths and learn their purpose. - [X] The Misty Mountains: The Misty Mountains which straddle the spine of Eriador are some of the tallest mountains in Middle-Earth. From the great outposts of the dwarves to the deep caves of the goblin-kings, there are many secrets to be found amid the snowy peaks. You send men into the high mountains to explore and map them. -[X] The Land of the Ringmakers: Eregion, to your north, was once one of the great Elvish realms until it's destruction by the Dark Lord in the War of the Elves and Sauron long ago. Here dwelt the elf-smiths whom the Enemy tricked into creating the Rings of Power, and amid the ruins of their halls and cities lie ancient artifacts from the glory days of the Elves. You send explorers and riders into this land to map it. Mapping Eregion is the first step towards beginning to search it's ruins for the lore-treasures the Shapers hope lie within.
With the building of the trade-enabling port underway, we would have to appease the Venturers sooner or later - besides, their contract is one of the few ways to earn money available to us now. I think it would be good to invest some options into mapmaking.
As for the Shapers - while the precise size of our debt is not specified, I think it would be better to start paying it back now while the Shapers' interests definitely coincide with ours.
