Caranthir the Dark (caranthir) wrote in untold_logs, @ 2008-06-05 04:08:00 |
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Current location: | Bumfuck, Rhun |
Current mood: | pissed off |
Current music: | The sound of my 'father' nagging me. |
Entry tags: | caranthir, feanor, witchcraft |
Who: Caranthir, Feanor, Umbarean!NPC and a ton of Easterlings
What: Returns! Horrible returns! And girlyness.
Where: Far to the East
When: Recently!
Setting: It's night, and a bonfire burns beneath an eastern sky. Seven Eastern women stand nude in a circle near a stream, over seven men who lay prone and unconscious. An eighth woman, Black Numenorean, stands nearby, observing. The ritual begins with chanting, as blood and ash are mixed in unison. The bonefire flares in time to the chanting, flaring and waning like the waxing of the moon. As it reaches it's crescendo, and they cut into their hands, the fire flares bright, figures moving within it. They seem to jump into the bodies.
But something goes wrong. One by one, the bodies ignite, the men waking and screaming as fire consume them. The fire jumps to the women, and their screaming cuts through the night air. The Umbareans steps far enough out of range, and watches darkly as the women fall to their knees.
Five flames spark, and disappear into the night sky, to perhaps find stronger hosts, or to return to the black from which they'd come, but two figures lay unmarked amidst the ash and charred bone. The Umbarean approaches cautiously.
Adunabeth: Should have expected that. Their wills were too strong.
Woman: *stirs, and holds her head**groans, and stands, then sways off balance* What in the name of...*she touched her throat, the voice coming out of it vastly unfamiliar*
Other woman: *sits up, with a groan, and rubs at her face with her hands* *realises that there's something in the way of her arms, and blinks her eyes blearily, then looks downward* ..... Why do I have breasts?
Other Woman: *claps a hand over her mouth!*
First woman: *looks down, notes breasts**grabs them**Snarls* *looks at the other woman, snarls MORE*
Other Woman: *blinks eyes open, looks at the first woman, glares* *takes hand off mouth, points!* THIS IS YOUR FAULT.
First woman: My fault?! It's your fault, it's always your fault! *lunges, swinging her fist into the woman's face*
Other Woman: *dodges her! head to one side, tries to catch the first woman's fist in her hand!* Nay, SON. .... ... Daughter ..... KIN OF MINE, which I will claim, even if at the moment I wish to slay you myself!
First woman: *twists around, brings elbow up to Feanor's face with considerable force. Almost. Body is too weak, and it PISSES HER OFF*
Caranthir: *HIM NOT HER!*
Feanor: *is also too weak, and gets knocked back to the ground!* *IS PISSED OFF*
Caranthir: *kicks in the stomach!*
Feanor: *rolls, catches HER leg, pulls HER to the ground*
Caranthir: *hits the ground and eats a mouthful of mud**spits it out* *tries to get on top of Feanor*
Feanor: *rolls on top of Caranthir, pins him* We are .... FEMALE, and MORTAL as well, and if this is NOT your fault - which is still under debate - and certainly is NOT mine, then we aught to find whose fault it is, and drain their blood out of their throat slowly.
Caranthir: *HEADBUTS* When is your answer not violence?!
Feanor: *winces* YOUR answers are better!?
Caranthir: My answer was the same as yours *jabs!* We should have listened to one-hand and the girl.
Feanor: *snorts* You thought my answers were perfect before we all LEFT Aman, if you recall. *punches*
Caranthir: *nose bursts into blood!**punches back, and flips them around, rolling in the mud and trying to get purchase*
Feanor: *growls and fights back, trying to get them to stop rolling with him on top*
Caranthir: *wraps legs around Feanor**flails for something like a rock!**finds one!**SWINGS!*
Adunabeth: *staring. Is mildly aroused and is STRAIGHT*
Feanor: *rolls his head ... HER ... head to one side!* For the love of .... STOP THIS. We are getting NOWHERE.
Caranthir: *Growlhisssnarl**straddling Feanor now**drops rock like 2 inches from the side of Feanor's head, then stands uneasily**center of balance is vastly different and it pisses him off**looks at Adunaphel* DID YOU DO THIS?!
Feanor: *stands as well, and finds he ... she .... it. is having the same issues* *rubs at his head, has a split second of noticing how soft his hair is* *snaps out of it* IF YOU DID YOU WILL DIE FOR IT.
Adunabeth: *chortles* Oh, nay, the ones that did it to you, well.. *gestures to the circle o'burned death* Most of them have perished. And the two that did not, well...their bodies are now yours. It was a spell, to bind you to a body - men, of course. But your spirits were too strong, and you burned them all alive. The other five, I know not if they returned, or if they seek out other bodies in desperation. It matters not, the vessels that hold you both were strong enough.
Feanor: *eyes her* Mere MORTALS raised us!?
Feanor: .... Mandos must be furious. I should like nothing more than to see his face right at this very moment.
Adunabeth: Mortals, yes, but powerful ones.
Feanor: *pokes at his body* But we are also mortals now, then.
Adunabeth: I am descended from the kings of old Numenore, the descendants of the three houses of the first age.
Caranthir: *blinks* The houses? *scowls* Mortals are not so terrible, Feanor.
Feanor: Mortals are squishy, die far too quickly, and have a spark hardly brighter than a candle flame. *grumbles*
Caranthir: Mortals are noble and strong of spirit, and greater than we ever were.
Feanor: Excellent. You should enjoy BEING one then.
Caranthir: *hauls off and tries to hit him again*
Feanor: *growls, and tries to tackle him*
Feanor: *her. .... wichever >< *
Adunabeth: Oh for Morgoth's sake.
Caranthir: *freeze**GLARE*
Feanor: *GLARES AT THE OTHER WOMAN AS WELL*
Feanor: *could KILL things with this glare*
Adunabeth: *picks up a pair of swords, that must look very, very familiar* As long as I hold these, you cannot harm me. And I control you. *is bluffing on the last part*
Feanor: Where in the name of my most shiny Silmarils did you FIND those!?
Adunabeth: Caranthir's was passed down through a line of men, but yours, and the rest of your son's, were much harder to find. *has been gathering the other 5, and fastening them to her back*
Caranthir: *eyes narrowed*
Feanor: *watching her with narrowed eyes as well* *eyes his ... son?* Those swords belong to us by rights. Give them back to us at once, Witch Woman.
Caranthir: As much as I hate to agree with my...with Feanor, I have to.
Adunabeth: *laughs sharply* You can have them back, if you pledge an oath.
Caranthir: Nay!
Feanor: *twitches* And in this case, I .. unfortunately ... must agree with my - Caranthir. Neither of us are making any sort of Oaths. Hand them over, or we WILL take them FROM you. *glare*
Adunabeth: *starts chanting in Adunaic*
Feanor: *eyes her* .... Spells. *runs forward to try and muffle her*
Caranthir: *picks up his rock and throws it*
Fire: *engulfs the area!*
Caranthir: ... *DIVES IN THE WATER!*
Feanor: ! *DIVES after her* *curses to himself in Quenya about fire, witches, and hopefully she burns herself to death in it*
Caranthir: *Crawls out of the water after a few minutes, now muddy AND wet**runs a hand through damp hair*
Feanor: *pulls himself out of the water a few moments later, pulling wet hair out of his face* *shivers a bit, then makes a mental note about how much he HATES shivering* *looks around*
Caranthir: The bitch is gone. *growl8
Feanor: We need those swords.
Feanor: *mutters*
Caranthir: So long as she has them, who knows what she could do with us.
Feanor: I will be under NO ONE's control. *growls*
Caranthir: Mandos.
Feanor: I will not be under HIS control, either. *makes a face like ><*
Caranthir: *snorts* He obviously had a hand in this.
Feanor: *runs a hand through his hair* *needs a BRUSH, damn it ><* Curse us more, or make us learn, or both.
Feanor: Why not my other sons? Why just you, and me? *eyes him*
Feanor: *ponders this further* Well Maglor always was a bit of a girl.
Caranthir: Did you not hear her? *shakes his head* My brothers could not find a strong enough body - they burned the witches alive.
Feanor: My ears work perfectly fine, daughter.
Caranthir: *throws another rock at his 'mother's head*
Caranthir: *feels better now**looks at the bodies* I count 7 burned men. There should be 8. come to think of it, did you ever notice Maglor join us in that hell?
Feanor: *dodges the rock, barely* *looks around* .... Come to think of it, no, I never did.
Feanor: Listen. We are stuck here. In female, mortal bodies. You hate me. I do not particularly like you. But for the time being I think we had better truce.
Caranthir: *snorts* So your only real daughter still walks around. *glances at Feanor, is starting to notice the chill. doesn't mind the mud though* For now.
Feanor: *nods* For now. Then you will have plenty of time to run me through, or however else you planned on killing me.
Caranthir: *sighs*
Feanor: *starts picking through the burned bodies, for anything useful*
Caranthir: *does as well* We are nude, perhaps their clothing survived. *starts looking around*
Caranthir: *trying to ignore fact he's not attracted to self*
Feanor: *isn't aware of the last time he was attracted to anything but his own self or his crafted creations anyway* *picks around places, not really finding much that survived the fire* They were summoning us here, but they do not LIVE out here in the middle of... wherever it is they summoned us. There must be a camp, or a nearby village. Someplace with clothing.
Caranthir: Hah! *found a cart and some horses!*
Caranthir: *finds some clothing, but it's all dresses >.<*
Feanor: *comes over to him, looks in the cart* *glares* Does no one wear PANTS these days!?
Dresses: *are elegant eastern style, with slits up the side*
Caranthir: *irresistable urge to clean up first*
Caranthir: *tries to shake it*
Feanor: *is caked in mud and .... eyes the dresses* ... They are very clean. *doesn't want to get dresses dirty* *is being stupid!* *knows it*
Caranthir: Something of the spirits of these women still dwells. *lets out a vivid curse, grabs one of the uglier dresses and rips it into cloths, storms to the river*
Feanor: *darts his eyes, then grabs the remnants of the ugly dress and goes to scrub himself clean, further up the river* *doesn't need son oogling his naked body* *doesn't understand why all of a sudden oogling naked body is a bad thing* *twitches the entire time he's washing* *does NOT spend extra time exploring new female ... parts*
Caranthir; *spends extra time exploring female parts and is STILL done before his father, which indicates Feanor totally checked himself out**walks up to a horse in that dress, feels ridiculous*
Feanor: *spent a few extra moments trying to figure out how to put dress ON, not check himself out* *pulls hair back and rolls it into a knot so that it's not in his damned way* *walks back up to the cart* I doubt that WITCH left a trail for us to follow.
Caranthir: *keeps his hair down, only puts it in a pony-tail when he goes on a hunt. Yes, did that when he was an ELF too*
Feanor: *needs to have his hair out of his way to craft* *did THAT as an elf, as well*
Caranthir: *was a decent crafter but oh NEVER good enough for Feanor, not like most of this other brothers**still bitter*
Feanor: *doesn't care, is stuck with THIS son now* *will make best of it, since he doesn't have any other CHOICE!*
Feanor: ... Regretably. You know mortals better than I. What is our next step? Since we will HAVE to mingle with them.
Caranthir: Stop acting like such a bitch, for starters.
Feanor: *squints at him* ...
Caranthir: *smirks*
Feanor: How would you LIKE me to act!? I am no happier with these circumstances than you. ><
Caranthir: For one thing, you're no longer - and you never were- God high lord and saviour Feanor the mighty. You're a mortal, a woman, and of a kind I've never seen before, at that.
Feanor: *scrunches his eyes up, like trying to form a mental picture where he is NOT, in fact, God High Lord King Feanor, the absolutely amazingly wonderful and mighty*
Caranthir: You died quickly. The rest of us gradually learned to be humble. I still died trying to get those thrice-damned gems. *regrets attacking Doriath. Except Dior is an ass, so doesn't regret that part XD*
Feanor: *..... looks ... thoughtful* *frowns* I am not without regrets.
Caranthir: *starts*
Feanor: .... *lets out a long sigh, like he's coming to this decision because HE thinks it's best, not 'cause his SON does* I will TRY and ... be humble.
Caranthir: *looks shocked*
Feanor: *is an ass, but spent a LOT more time in 'purgatory' than his son did*
Feanor: *well not a whole lot, in the scheme of things, but.. *
Caranthir: *points to the west* Morning star. Earendil rides with the only Silmaril to remain, to guide travelers west. That is where we should go.
Feanor: *watches the star for a while, with ... yes... a bit of longing in his eyes* If we travel west enough, we will eventually find Sea, but will the lands look at all familiar? *rubs at his face* Without our swords, we will not know if we control our actions or not.
Caranthir: *hunts around the cart, finds some...serviceable swords* Your call, mother.
Feanor: *glares at him for the mother comment* *hefts one of the swords* We can agree we need to find her. But getting away from here is a greater concern. You think we should go west. We will follow that cursed star and go west then. *sighs*
Caranthir: If things are as they were then, the men of the west will be more welcoming, than those east. *picking through the cart again, wondering if they should keep it as there are some good supplies here**woo!**found a spear and a bow! can hunt so they don't starve!*
Feanor: *is pondering this as well* Horses will travel faster than carts. We might consider creating satchels and carrying what supplies we can on horseback. These other ... dresses.. could be used. *looks at them, with a sneer of distaste* *even though he ... kind of wants to keep changes of clothing for some reason*
Caranthir: In case these are damaged, of course. We'll want to keep one each, to wear *look of disdain* For..appearances.
Feanor: *scrunches up his nose* Of course. Though I have great distaste for the idea.
Caranthir: *quick to add* As do i!
Feanor: There are still two left which we can tear up as satchels, so that we might ride by horse instead of cart.
Feanor: Though cart may be more in keeping with this land.
Caranthir: *looks for satchels! Frowns, doesn't see any,they must have carried them to the...circle, and they all burned* *idea* We could sell the cart.
Feanor: *scratches at his forehead* Coin may be necessary in these lands. *nods*
Caranthir: *is having advice heeded by Feanor. Something is fucked with the world*
Feanor: *stares at him* .... Are you going to waste time standing there? Shall we take a nap? Or do you think we might hurry this along?
Caranthir: *spits at his father's feet, and readies the cart* Lets go.
Feanor: *has himself a little private chuckle at that* *nods* Let us go, then.
Cart: *rattles off!*