NationStates Jolt Archive

The veil was a shimmering off-white in the viewscreen of the Silmaril(ship). It shimmered in the light of distant suns, and the new one lighting a path through it. Samah had evacuated the front observation deck before depressurizing it and cutting a hole large enough to stick the handle of his sword through. The Silmaril(jewel) glowed, cutting a path through the fog.

The ship flew forward, at least, until it suddenly found itself landed on a field of green. A short ways away was an ocean, and past that the veil was visible. It was smart of everyone involved to not ask how they had gotten there, as most of them had a thing about magic. Most DNSians had it as well, something fueled by science, but that is another story to tell.

They broke through the veil, and before them was the western continent.

“Set us down near the outskirts of the city. Go in quiet, and change into the elvish dress. Cover your ears or make use of the make-up. I don't think we'll fool a lot of people, but we might fool enough so that we get to the Valar relatively unhindered,” ordered Samah as he got up from his chair.

“Um... sir?”

“What is it ensign?” barked Samah.

“They're waiting for us. Spot of land cleared big enough to land the ship. People waiting around with banners and swords. They seem to be watching us.”

“Really? Damn. Let me grab my sword, then we're gonna go out, in file. DNS dress uniforms instead. Let's move people.”

Samah moved quickly, retrieving his sword; covering the Silmaril in a casing of leather. He slipped into his dress uniform quickly, and made it to the ramp as the ship landed. His crew formed behind him, and the ramp then lowered.

They walked into a sight that few mortals had seen. The silence was eerie. All of creation seemed to be watching them.

OOC: This entire plotline could be deleted at any time, still in negotiations about it. But I'll say that I have no intention of going much farther without the blessing of the other key player. Hm... I need to leave my posts at cliffhangers more often.

EDIT:OOC: Oh yeah, and this is closed RP, tags ok though.

*Tag* for future reference.

-Ruhrian DIA Agent

Kick.

OOC: Hey DNS, can I join?

OOC: It's gonna be limited to Arda nations and me, and at this part, no one else should be able to even be where the ship and crew is.

OOC: It's gonna be limited to Arda nations and me, and at this part, no one else should be able to even be where the ship and crew is.

OOC: Okay then...

#tagged

The elves have parted into two lines, a pathway in between them. It was simple stone, gray in nature, but ethereal in fact. There was no reception party per-se, just the path and the elves acting as a wall to it.

Samah looked around, scared as hell but not showing it. Some idiot had left this situation out of The Manual. He did the only thing he could, which unfortunately wasn't going to be finding the nearest bar and drinking his sorrows into oblivion.

The crew of the Silmaril walked forward, up a winding path flanked by elves that had returned. Samah might have been scared, but compared to most of the crew he was braver then a man poking a lion in the eye. Most of them were having intestinal problems, notably that they seemed to be dissolving themselves. But they remarkably didn't show it, and walked in step with their leader. 4 wore the swords of officers, the others wore their daggers and sidearms.

In what seemed like an eternity, the crew reached the pinnacle of Taniquetil, and the throne of Manwë. He sat there, calmness protruded from him. Samah seemed to be a backseat driver to his own body, it did things without his approval, let alone his conscious thought.

He moved forward before the throne, and knelt. He took his sword from his belt and offered it to the Valar.

“I come to you to beg, for only you can fix the problem that plagues our universe. You must...” Samah stopped as he felt a hand touch his downcast head.

“So, someone did find it. The other two could be regained as well by the races not elvish, but the one in the stars... I must wonder how much has changed. Melkor has gone back to his old ways then? A pity, I had hoped that the void might change him. But if he has returned to his old ways... ... ... We must go then,” stated/commanded/ordered Manwë, a sadness entering his voice. His was the voice of a weary soldier, the one who knows the battle is coming, and that avoiding it is impossible. “We will leave on your ...'Boat' in the morning, but tonight you are our guests, and we will treat you as such. You cannot go to fight the Morgoth in armor such as that, we will give you our chain and plates.” (shameless way of getting elvish plate mail, +3 for my main character, with some sort of stealth attribute)

Samah felt a releasing of pressure from his chest, and he regained control of his body. “Thank you, Thank you.” He breathed out a sigh of relief. His first task was done.

But the 1st task would prove to be the easiest of the three set before him.

The Crew of the Silmaril rested in the opulent houses of the elves. They're needs were met, and surpassed. It was peaceful, unlike the council of the Valar. The argument was so loud, both mentally and physically, that it pierced the dreams of the sleeping.

(It went on for a few hours, but I don't want to wear out my keyboard, so just imagine the rest)

...“Why must we always go in to save them? What have they done for us except extend the time of the coming of the Final Theme? We are in no trouble here, in the west.”

“They cannot save themselves from him, no man, elf, dwarf or halfing has the power to best him in battle. They are as yet too weak to even try to contain his aggressions on the place they call Mars.”

“Yet they can walk through the void at will? It is an interesting thing that has happened in the ages that we have left. They can travel great distances, yet they still cannot kill the unkillable or treat their mental wounds?”

“Some things are beyond even the reach of their 'Science', and Magic is among those. But I agree with Manwë, we must help them.”

“Thank you Tulkas, now are there any objections that need postpone our preparations?”

Silence followed, and the Valar prepared for war.

quality writing = tag for future reading

The morning sun rose in the sky as Samah watched it. Little did he know, but it was the last time he would see a sunrise with his own eyes. A knock at his door started him, and he went to answer it.

“The time has come for you to depart, come with me,” said a lone elf at the door.

Samah nodded his understanding, and followed. They left upon a downwardly winding path. He was lead to the Armory, where he received his gifts from the elves, and was helped into them.

He thanked them, and concluded with, “It beats the DNS uniform all hollow. Thank you friend Eldar.”

He then followed the same elf back to his ship, where his crew waited for him, themselves in the elvish garb. His crew of 9 stood before him, as they had done before many a countless time, but they all knew in their hearts that it would be the last time this full crew would be alive in the same place, in the same stance. Samah embraced each of them, giving them the encouragement to go through with what they were required by duty do to.

Behind him the Valar had quietly assembled, having bid farewell to their wives for the time being.

Samah sighed a deep sigh and turned. “Lords, my ship is ready to be your chariot. We will discuss what must be done before the battle is to take place during the journey. Once again I thank you for the task that you will be undertaking for us, for the rest of the universe. I know that this will not fully stay the hands of evil that plauge us, but it may give us enough of a even footing to win. Come aboard now, we will make our way to Arda, and Melkor.”

The crew entered first, followed by Samah. The Valar then followed with an air of hesitancy, not from fear of battle, but from fear of the tin can they were stepping into.

The Silmaril lifted into the sky, it's front view port patched during the night. It was in the front observation deck that the Valar gathered with Samah.

“There is a single major complication to the plan, which is a fail-safe MAD(mutually assured destruction) the Morgoth has pointed at Menelmacar. I believe that I can take care of it, but it requires that we go in quietly, without the notice of our presence. What will happen is that I ....................”

And the Silmaril flew onwards, to glory, to battle, to death, to the end of an age. What would happen would be told in bars throughout the cosmos, it would be reveled in the halls of nations to small and numerous to name.

Change was a thing that either went slowly or, just sometimes, it is jump started to a quick burst of great change. Too often this jump start was war, and war this jump start must be.

A bump.

[tag]

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