Once upon a time, your name was Mairon. It meant 'the Admirable' -- and so you were admired, envied by your peers and glorified by your betters. Once, you were a smith-lord on high across the foundering sea, a spirit of fire and pride that lit the world. Once, in Elder Days, the works of your forge were beloved among the great lords of Arda, and you were counted among the fairest of the servants of the Powers of the World.
But those Elder Days are long gone. They have passed away in shadow and flame. Long ago you bent the knee to a new master, a master more terrible and foul than anything that walked the world then or since. He was the First Enemy, and he defied the Powers themselves. He was like you once, a spirit of fire burning bright, and when he fell, he called you into the darkness with him -- and you answered. You fell, and Mairon died, and was reborn as a lord of fire and death and shadow and power and might.
And the elves in their arrogance gave you a new name, a name to represent all that you had become, all that you brought upon the world. It was made to shame you, to mock you, bur in time, you came to accept this name, and what is more, you fulfilled it -- embodied it. You became a thing of dread and hate, a spirit of malice and malevolence abhorred by all the world.
You are Sauron.
The Enemy. The Defiler. The Abhorred.
In Elder Days you waged a war, the greatest and longest war ever fought, against all the mortal races, against men and elves and the things of Earth. Your master was Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, and his goal was nothing less than the end of all things. You were the foremost of his servants, and so wrought fell works in his name.
But long ago the Valar, the gods themselves, came across the Seas from the West, bearing a light like the very stars. They unmade your armies and bound great Morgoth the Enemy in chains forged from his own iron crown. They cast him forevermore into the Endless Deep beyond Time, and you fled into the darkness, where you took up his mantle and vowed to succeed him.
And you have. Oh, you have. Wars and death, chaos and ruin. Rivers of blood to drown the seas, pillars of smoke to blot the stars. You cast down ancient Numenor, greatest of the realms of men. You slew the great Elven-Kings and burnt their lands. And of old in black Mordor you forged your greatest creation -- the One, the Ruling Ring that was to be master of them all. Your shadow stretched unbound across all the lands of men and elves, and yours was the Lidless Eye, all-seeing and all-knowing.
But long ago and far away you stood against the last, great alliance of men and elves on the slopes of Orodruin, the Mount of Doom, and your armies broke before them. Long ago and far away, Isildur Last-King and Elrond Half-elven sundered your mortal form and took from your blazing corpse the true Ring, the One Ring of Power. You were defeated, and all your works were undone. Barad-Dur, the Black Tower, crumbled to it's foundations, the fires of Mount Doom cooled, and your servants scattered to the corners of the Earth.
But you lived, endured. You are a Maiar, more than a simple spirit of earth. You were born beyond the frame of this mortal world, born in the Timeless Halls before the dawn of the Ages. You are Sauron, the Lidless Eye, and your gaze is unending. You survived as a malignant spirit on the wind, untethered from your own flesh. You were less than nothing -- a dark wind, a bitter dust, a gale of hate whipping across the face of the world. As you watched, powerless and impotent, your old powerbases crumbled, your servants scattered to the wind, and your enemies grew fat and lazy with the turning of the years. A thousand years and half again since your fall at Mount Doom, and you have gathered enough power to manifest yourself once more upon the world.
The world has changed since your fall. You can feel it in the water, feel it in the earth, smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. This world is weak, ripe for the picking. You can see it unfolding before you in your visions -- a world still and silent, a world forever chained to the unerring will of the Eye. This, you know, is it. The linchpin, the turning point.
The Third Age closes, and with it comes either an Age of Men, an age of chaos and war and loss as all that was fades from memory, or a greater Age, a darker Age, an Age undreamed of by gods or men. It is an Age of shadow and order, an Age when all that live are trapped without end beneath a Lidless Gaze.
With Lidless Gaze ~A Lord of the Rings Quest~
You come together in bits and pieces. Your essence is scattered around the world in a thousand thousand fragments of ash and dust on the wind, trapped in interminable nothingness. But finally, after eons, you are now strong enough to draw them together, piece by piece. When, at last, you can manifest, it is as a shade, a flickering half-thing trapped between this world and the next. You are in many places, and one, in a thousand places, and none. It has taken you centuries to pull together even this mediocre form, and your spirit is too weak to do much else. Yet within you, your hatred and your willpower bubble silently as they have for eons, and you let a feeling of inexorable jubilation wash over you as you drift silently in the sky.
You have returned.
Trait Gained: Shade Form
You whip your far-flung vision across the lands of Middle-Earth. You have gleaned much in your time on the wind, and you know something of the state of the world to which you are newly returned. Gondor languishes in the east, and to the West, the remnants of great Arnor band together into disparate cities and townships. The elves grow weary of endless life, and many will soon begin their departure across the seas to the Undying Lands of Valinor. You will the wind to gust the fragmented shadow that has become your form to your newest destination, a place picked out centuries beforehand as the ideal location for you to rebuild. Mordor is watched, and an old guard still stands over the Black Gate. Until you can gather enough power, Mordor must wait.
[] You go north, to the great hill in the south of Mirkwood, Amon Lanc. It stands high and lonely in the great forests, and is a quiet location where you can marshal your energy and gather forces for your eventual return. It is situated near to the Gladden Fields where ancient Isildur fell long ago and lost the Ruling Ring. Here would be the optimal place to begin your search for the Ring of Power. However, being so near to the elvish realms of Mirkwood and Lorien, you must take care not to be overt. The Elven-lords are the last Elder powers remaining in Middle-Earth that could destroy you in your weakened form, and to awake their ire this early would be disastrous. You take up the guise of a simple pretender and mortal of some small magickal status who has taken up residence in the ruin on Amon Lanc--a man called the Necromancer.
[] You travel deep within the bowels of the earth, to Moria that was of old Khazad-Dum, the Dwarrowdelf. The armies of the great goblin Azog rule here in the endless deep as lords in the shadow. Once this was the greatest of all the ancient Dwarven realms, ruled by the heir of Durin himself, mightiest of all the dwarven-kings that ever lived. But the dwarves, they say, delved to deeply and too greedily, and awoke Shadow and Flame in the deeps of Arda. You can feel it's power pulsing deep below the world -- a Balrog, last of the ancient honor guard of Morgoth. At your prime, you need merely have commanded and it would have knelt, but now? Now, it's power is far beyond your own, and to wake it's wrath in these dark caverns would mean certain doom. However, the numerous goblin-clans mean certain power and strength to any who can bind them all together. For this purpose, you take up the mantle of a dark and powerful presence commanding the goblins to war--a presence called the Warmonger.
[] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord.
[] You turn east, to Rohavinion, down into the lands and rolling hills of the Hill-Men of Dunland. Driven from their homes long centuries ago, they sought only vengeance against the Men of Rohan, and swore to reclaim their lands from the Horse-Lords of the Riddermark. Their hatred and thirst for revenge is a pliable thing, easily used to turn them to your advantage. But the men of Rohan are strong and mighty, and Gondor waits beyond them. However, in the mountains of Dunland, witchcraft and sorcery, ever the sphere of Morgoth and his loyal successor Sauron, run rampant. If you could teach them the ancient ways, the dark magics that boil the skin and rot the flesh and break the earth, they might be able to stand against Rohan. What's more, they could be easily seduced to the worship of Morgoth, the one true Lord of the Dark. The hillmen have ever respected power and wisdom, so you take up the pretense of being an ancient wood hag or wise man who has used his knowledge to transcend even death, becoming a great spirit sworn to destroy the Rohirric conquerors, known only as the Ravenlord.
[] Beyond the mountains, beyond the hills, beyond the seas, to the southmost reaches of the world where the stars are strange: there, in the shadow-shrouded dunes, lies the Harad, the far lands beyond the reach of the Valar. Here is the last place in all of Arda where men still worship Morgoth -- indeed, in these far lands, there are a thousand strange gods, and mightiest among them is him you know as Melkor. Here roam the Haradrim, the great and numberless tribes of dark-skinned men who dwell in the deserts and jungles of the south, and who have so fiercely resisted the reach of Gondor for lifetimes. Greatest of all the citadels of Harad is the Haven of Umbar by the sea, where of old the Numenoreans you corrupted to Morgoth's might created a great stronghold to defy the power of Elendil and his sons, a stronghold that has stood for a thousand years. The Corsairs of Umbar have plagued the men of Gondor for the greater part of an Age, and their fearsome raids leave scorched and burned land wherever they go. Here, you would be accepted, worshiped, even beloved, for the Black Numenoreans have foretold of the Gorthaur's return for a hundred lifetimes. But Gondor has ever stood vigilant against the threat from the East, and if the full might of the White Tree was compelled to fall upon Umbar, your plans might be ended before they even start. If you could rebuild a powerbase among the men of Harad, who have largely cast off worship of the Shadow, you might build an army so great that even the White City might fall. To disguise your identity, you command the men of Umbar and Harad to call you the Serpent King.
[] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
(Note: The names can be changed with a write-in. Don't like the sound of 'the Mariner'? Change it!)
[X] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
[X] You turn east, to Rohavinion, down into the lands and rolling hills of the Hill-Men of Dunland. Driven from their homes long centuries ago, they sought only vengeance against the Men of Rohan, and swore to reclaim their lands from the Horse-Lords of the Riddermark. Their hatred and thirst for revenge is a pliable thing, easily used to turn them to your advantage. But the men of Rohan are strong and mighty, and Gondor waits beyond them. However, in the mountains of Dunland, witchcraft and sorcery, ever the sphere of Morgoth and his loyal successor Sauron, run rampant. If you could teach them the ancient ways, the dark magics that boil the skin and rot the flesh and break the earth, they might be able to stand against Rohan. What's more, they could be easily seduced to the worship of Morgoth, the one true Lord of the Dark. The hillmen have ever respected power and wisdom, so you take up the pretense of being an ancient wood hag or wise man who has used his knowledge to transcend even death, becoming a great spirit sworn to destroy the Rohirric conquerors, known only as the Ravenlord.
[X] Beyond the mountains, beyond the hills, beyond the seas, to the southmost reaches of the world where the stars are strange: there, in the shadow-shrouded dunes, lies the Harad, the far lands beyond the reach of the Valar. Here is the last place in all of Arda where men still worship Morgoth -- indeed, in these far lands, there are a thousand strange gods, and mightiest among them is him you know as Melkor. Here roam the Haradrim, the great and numberless tribes of dark-skinned men who dwell in the deserts and jungles of the south, and who have so fiercely resisted the reach of Gondor for lifetimes. Greatest of all the citadels of Harad is the Haven of Umbar by the sea, where of old the Numenoreans you corrupted to Morgoth's might created a great stronghold to defy the power of Elendil and his sons, a stronghold that has stood for a thousand years. The Corsairs of Umbar have plagued the men of Gondor for the greater part of an Age, and their fearsome raids leave scorched and burned land wherever they go. Here, you would be accepted, worshiped, even beloved, for the Black Numenoreans have foretold of the Gorthaur's return for a hundred lifetimes. But Gondor has ever stood vigilant against the threat from the East, and if the full might of the White Tree was compelled to fall upon Umbar, your plans might be ended before they even start. If you could rebuild a powerbase among the men of Harad, who have largely cast off worship of the Shadow, you might build an army so great that even the White City might fall. To disguise your identity, you command the men of Umbar and Harad to call you the Serpent King.
[X] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord.
[X] You go north, to the great hill in the south of Mirkwood, Amon Lanc. It stands high and lonely in the great forests, and is a quiet location where you can marshal your energy and gather forces for your eventual return. It is situated near to the Gladden Fields where ancient Isildur fell long ago and lost the Ruling Ring. Here would be the optimal place to begin your search for the Ring of Power. However, being so near to the elvish realms of Mirkwood and Lorien, you must take care not to be overt. The Elven-lords are the last Elder powers remaining in Middle-Earth that could destroy you in your weakenedform, and to awake their ire this earlywould be disastrous. You take up the guise of a simple pretender and mortal of some small magickal status who hastaken up residence in the ruin on AmonLanc--a man called the Necromancer.
[X] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
Tis the age of man and it will be upon the shoulders of men that you will build your power.
[X] Beyond the mountains, beyond the hills, beyond the seas, to the southmost reaches of the world where the stars are strange: there, in the shadow-shrouded dunes, lies theHarad, the far lands beyond the reach of the Valar. Here is the last place in all of Arda where men still worship Morgoth -- indeed, in these far lands, there are a thousand strange gods, and mightiest among them is him you know as Melkor. Here roam the Haradrim, the great and numberless tribes of dark-skinned men who dwell in the deserts and jungles of the south, and who have so fiercely resisted the reach of Gondor for lifetimes. Greatest of all the citadels of Harad is the Haven of Umbar by the sea, where of old the Numenoreans you corrupted to Morgoth's might created a great stronghold to defy the power of Elendil and his sons, a stronghold that has stood for a thousand years. The Corsairs of Umbar have plagued the men of Gondor for the greater part of an Age, and their fearsome raids leave scorched and burned land wherever they go. Here, you would be accepted, worshiped, even beloved, for the Black Numenoreans have foretold of the Gorthaur's return for a hundred lifetimes. But Gondor has ever stood vigilant against the threat from the East, and if the full might of the White Tree was compelled to fall upon Umbar, your plans might be ended before they even start. If you could rebuild a powerbase among the men of Harad, who have largely cast off worship of the Shadow, you might build an army so great that even the White City might fall. To disguise your identity, you command the men of Umbar and Harad to call you the Serpent King.
Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord.
This brings us close to Bombadil. Which is, uh, really bad for health.
[X] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
<insert default comment about a new Telamon quest>
[x] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
This seems the most fun and unique to me.
Alternatively, I'd be tempted to go for Moria or Eriador for more familiar names & settings. That might make story updates easier to write, and more accessible for players to speculate about.
[X] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord.
Tom is a very passive character, I don't believe he would act unless we directly attack his little territory.
There's a reason Elrond's council was against trying to bring him into the war and that reason is mostly that he doesn't care.
[x] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord.
Hmm... This seems familiar. I think we picked Ravenlord before. Well I hope this goes on longer than the usual Telamon quests.
[x] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
Eastking sounds kinda dumb to me. Doesn't really roll of the tongue.
[X] Beyond the mountains, beyond the hills, beyond the seas, to the southmost reaches of the world where the stars are strange: there, in the shadow-shrouded dunes, lies the Harad, the far lands beyond the reach of the Valar. Here is the last place in all of Arda where men still worship Morgoth -- indeed, in these far lands, there are a thousand strange gods, and mightiest among them is him you know as Melkor. Here roam the Haradrim, the great and numberless tribes of dark-skinned men who dwell in the deserts and jungles of the south, and who have so fiercely resisted the reach of Gondor for lifetimes. Greatest of all the citadels of Harad is the Haven of Umbar by the sea, where of old the Numenoreans you corrupted to Morgoth's might created a great stronghold to defy the power of Elendil and his sons, a stronghold that has stood for a thousand years. The Corsairs of Umbar have plagued the men of Gondor for the greater part of an Age, and their fearsome raids leave scorched and burned land wherever they go. Here, you would be accepted, worshiped, even beloved, for the Black Numenoreans have foretold of the Gorthaur's return for a hundred lifetimes. But Gondor has ever stood vigilant against the threat from the East, and if the full might of the White Tree was compelled to fall upon Umbar, your plans might be ended before they even start. If you could rebuild a powerbase among the men of Harad, who have largely cast off worship of the Shadow, you might build an army so great that even the White City might fall. To disguise your identity, you command the men of Umbar and Harad to call you the Serpent King.
[X] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
[X] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord.
It is hard with Elrond and Tom around... and this what makes it fun
[X] You turn east, to Rohavinion, down into the lands and rolling hills of the Hill-Men of Dunland. Driven from their homes long centuries ago, they sought only vengeance against the Men of Rohan, and swore to reclaim their lands from the Horse-Lords of the Riddermark. Their hatred and thirst for revenge is a pliable thing, easily used to turn them to your advantage. But the men of Rohan are strong and mighty, and Gondor waits beyond them. However, in the mountains of Dunland, witchcraft and sorcery, ever the sphere of Morgoth and his loyal successor Sauron, run rampant. If you could teach them the ancient ways, the dark magics that boil the skin and rot the flesh and break the earth, they might be able to stand against Rohan. What's more, they could be easily seduced to the worship of Morgoth, the one true Lord of the Dark. The hillmen have ever respected power and wisdom, so you take up the pretense of being an ancient wood hag or wise man who has used his knowledge to transcend even death, becoming a great spirit sworn to destroy the Rohirric conquerors, known only as the Ravenlord.
[x] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
[X] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord
This post will go over the intricacies of several mechanics developed specifically for this game, including Domination, Defilement, Mantles, and, last but not least, Power and Influence.
You are a Maia, and as such, your Power is your personal strength, your ability to work magic, fight or corrupt your enemies, and forge new Artifacts. In short, it is your ability to personally act upon Arda. You gain a ??d100 amount of Power per turn, modified by events in-game, up to a max of 15d100. Power is used by Dominating lands, creating and maintaining armies or Strongholds, and forging Artifacts.
Your maximum Power cap (5000 at game start) is permanently reduced by investing your strength into Defiling lands. This cannot be reversed. By investing your Power into a stronghold, you can create a minimum Power cap which will permanently apply while near the stronghold, no matter how many lands you have Defiled. The better the Stronghold, however, the more power it costs to maintain. If your power falls too low, your Mantle will dissipate, and you'll have to retreat back to your nearest stronghold to recover. If your Power Cap ever falls below 50, you will be Undone, and the game will end.
Domination is the act of seizing control over a conquered area through sheer willpower, filling it with your strength. The land itself remains largely unaffected, but falls under your control. Dominated lands cost a set amount of Power per turn, and in turn provide a stipend of Influence per turn. Food for your armies can only be grown in Dominated lands, and Men and other mortal races can only settle in Dominated lands. Enemy forces can reverse Domination by settling in Dominated lands, and a powerful enough Enemy can remove Domination from an area altogether.
Defilement is the act of infusing an area with your very power, irreversibly tying it to you and instantly corrupting it. Defiled lands permanently reduce your power cap, but cannot be conquered back, and settling a Defiled land with Orcs or other Dark Races will provide you with Influence. Only Defiled lands can be used to build certain things, such as breeding pits. Only Defiled lands can hold Strongholds.
You are a spirit of fire, and so the very act of taking flesh upon Arda requires effort on your part. Your hroa, or Mantle, is your physical body, your form in Arda, and maintaining your Mantle costs a set amount of Power every turn. Your most basic Mantle, Shade form, has not practical use, but there are many Mantles, all of which are optimized for war, intimidation, and other purposes. Different Mantles have different effects and Power costs, and you can unlock new Mantles by completing Quests or finding new Artifacts.
Your Mantle is incredibly important. If your Power falls too low it can dissipate, and what is left of you will be forced to beat a quick retreat, at the cost of a huge amount of Power. If your Mantle is totally destroyed (If your Power or your Power Cap fall below 50, the minimum amount to maintain a Mantle) you will be Undone and the game will end.
Switching between different Mantles, and their varying power costs and benefits, is a free action you can take once a turn.
By Dominating conquered lands and settling Defiled ones, you gain Influence. Influence allows you to command your servants, create new armies, and exert your will indirectly. Influence is the engine of war, as it lets you order the construction of buildings, armies, statues, and other things which every self-respecting Dark Lord must have.
Influence increases far more slowly than Power, but can be gained by building statues in controlled areas and Dominating conquered lands, as well as settling Defiled ones.
The last of the three points which can be gained throughout the game, Domination Points are the rarest and most powerful. You receive a single Domination Point for every area you Dominate or Defile, as well as from Quests or events in-game. Domination Points can be used to create incredibly powerful artifacts, to influence fate itself, and to reshape the surface of the world to your whims. Using Domination Points wisely can make or break the game.
Sauron was once a master smith named Marion, and that prodigious skill has stayed with him over the long eons. To avoid the destruction of his master, Sauron created many Artifacts to enhance his Power, the greatest of which was the One Ring.
Artifacts are creations imbued with your Power. They hold a set amount of Power depending on how much was infused into them, and the strongest can even raise your power cap. However, if they are destroyed, the Power is permanently lost, and if an Artifact was raising your cap, it will fall. For example, you could make a sword which holds 200 Power, lowering your power Cap by 200. This sword will provide a reservoir of power for you, and as long as it is in your possession, your Power cannot fall below 200. If it is destroyed or taken, however, you will lose 200 Power — which might be ruinous. An Artifact cannot make you hold more Power than your cap, but very powerful Artifacts, such as the Rings of Power, can raise your cap by the amount of Power invested into them. If such Artifacts are destroyed, however, you will not only lose their power but the cap bonus, effectively doubling your losses.
Bearers are mortal bearers of Artifacts (usually Rings). While a Bearer is under your control, Bearers gain a portion of your Power while wielding an Artifact. The stronger the Artifact, the more power they gain, the faster their corruption— and the more power you lose until it is in your possession again.
If a Bearer is resistant or hostile to you, the Artifact will count as being lost, but if you exert enough Power, you can forcibly dominate them through the Artifact and turn them into a Wraith. Wraiths serve you utterly and wholly, and any artifacts they have count as being in your possession while they are close to you.
[X] You waft west over the Misty Mountains, down into the hills and fens of Eriador. Here, where ancient Arnor once stood in defiance of the Witch-King your great servant, you can begin to rebuild. Angmar is watched closely by the elf-lords of the west, Elrond Half-Elven among them, but you can still find purchase in the minds of men here in Bree-Land. Bandit-raiders and marauders wander the lone-lands between Bree and the realm of Elrond, and ever have the hearts of men been easily seduced to shadow. Here in these fens and swamps stood once ancient Rhuadar and Cardolan, the traitor Kingdoms of men that led to the downfall of Arthedain and the realms of Arnor. These men, long dead, spilled the blood of their brothers in the name of Angmar, and are forever cursed even in death. Their wights and ghasts wander the long-abandoned Barrow-Downs, and with sufficient power, you could harness their spirits to your will. A part of you finds some sick pleasure in dominating the ghosts of the last descendants of the Numenoreans you damned. To this end, you take up a new name, one that will echo with fear among the men of Bree-Land for years to come, the powerful wraith and brigand-master known only as the Gravelord
[X] In the Utter East, beyond Gondor, lie the great plains of Rhun, from whence come the Easterlings, the great Wainriders who plagued Rohan and Gondor in centuries past. Here, in the east, awoke the races of Men, Dwarves and Elves, and here were all three first corrupted by the touch of Morgoth the Enemy. The shadow still hangs heavy over the East, and even you do not fully know what lies in these distant lands. Legends abound of a great Last Desert beyond the plains, of Were-worms that crawl unending in the night, of the four Eastern Houses of the Dwarves and the hideous and unnatural magicks they practice, of an easternmost race of Elves who never knew the West, and might yet fall prey to the Shadow. Many and mighty are the myths of the East, and if you could tame even one of them to your will, all of Arda might bow once more before the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne. To proclaim your dominion and eventual mastery over these newfound lands, you take up a new name: The Eastking.
