NationStates Jolt Archive

The skies were dark, under the cover of the bright, white moon, which many ages before would have torn the black souls of the heartless orcs to pieces. However, the uruk-hai were of course immune to such light, and their vast numbers were in the mountainous region of northern Lietuveska. Nearly a total of ten thousand of the dark creatures were constructing massive walls, barriers, and towers. The Fortress of Carchost (Fortress of the Fang) was enormous, and General Dínendal Elensar, more commonly referred to as Saulum (great wind of evil) to his orkish minions, was hurriedly constructing Minas Carc (Tower of the Fang). This tower was the most important, though the walls surrounding the outer ring of the fortress were being constructed before the inner walls, and thousands had already set post at the two gates, enter and exit, of Carchost. Smoke billowed from the mines of the mountainsides below, blocking out the moon at some points as the cold, harsh wind drifted. Fires of yellow erupted as smelters forged the thick iron plates needed to defend the buildings as they were being constructed. Trees were being constantly chopped for miles around on the ground below, collected, and the ground where they once sat was scorched by fire. Clanging metal, deep roars, and loud booms reverberated in the mountain complex. Spotlights shined on the areas being constructed, and fires erupted into the sky even higher as the trunks of trees were burned charcoal, and then pulled out, sharpened, and plated with iron. Half of the spouts of fire were erupted for fun, using insane amounts of petrol and gasoline. Wasteful, but the morale it made for the constructors was worthy. Besides, the current ten thousand were only a fraction of what was to come. Two percent of the population of Lietuveska accounted for orcs, so a total of two million were expected to take camp in Carchost. The massive army would then, after a total of a few months of training and gathering, sweep upon the villages and cities of the URHP, utterly wiping out what portion of the Elven population they could. That was all the master plan of Kasparov, thanks to his most trusted colleague, General Dínendal, or who would be referred to as Saulum soon.

Saulum looked upon this great masterpiece of his, and smiled wryly. The death of the Lietuv elves shall begin soon, and Carchost will be the envy of all.. Carchost was not only a fortress, but would also be a death camp for the millions of elves that inhabited the URHP. He turned slowly from the window of the incomplete Minas Carc, and unconciously rubbed the scar under his eye. A scar that had been placed there by an elf centuries ago..A scar who's owner exacted revenge upon the culprit, and killed his father. A scar that made Dínendal turn cold and hostile, but allowed him dignity and pride. It was then that he decided he hated his name, but would keep it for the purpose of changing a nation. The URHP would change, due to his skillful wooing of the Premier, who would also die eventually. Of course, all according to Saulum's master plan. He would then join Melkor after he solidified his power in the URHP, and attempt to become a major power of Metus.

Little did he know that the Premier's personal assistant was growing curious about the Premier's behavior and his own sinister body language. Itarildë Eledhwen saw red flags, and was ready to contact someone about them.

The late night air was cool against Itarildë's face as she stared blankly into the computer screen. Her bed was still unoccupied, for she had been sitting for hours staring into the cool night air outside of her condo on the hills of suburbian Hvittsted, overlooking the city and moonlit beach. The flickering lights of the entertainment district below proved that the people had no worries in their minds. For Itarildë however, it was a different story. Unlike those that were enjoying parties below in the city, she was torn between conflicting emotions, and the fear of what was to come, not to mention fear of what would happen if she were caught. She absentmindedly rubbed her chin as she stared into the blank screen, her gray eyes penetrating it deeply. She turned and looked out of the window again, but not to see the wonders of Man, but the wonders of Nature. She peered upon the water, which reflected the white light of the moon. Itarildë felt a tear forming up as she remembered the songs of old that were sung in Rivendell, and her heart mourned for her homeland once again. She would not see her new home fall under the power of evil again, though she had no idea how it extended or to where. That would change soon, for she would call upon the champions of Elves, the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar. Sadness left her, for it became banished from her heart. Her eyes turned cold and angry, and her nimble fingers began tapping away at the keyboard. She found the site for MISSION, the Menelmacari intelligence agency, and clicked the "Contact" link, and began writing the message that would change the history of her country.

SUBJECT: An Awakening of Darkness

To: Elentári Sirithil of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
From: Itarildë Eledhwen, Personal Assistant to Premier Boris Kasparov of the United Republics of the Hvittsted Pact
Security: High

I write from the United Republics to issue warning and my personal fears that a wave of darkness is upon my nation. I fear for the safety of all Elves and those who support our kind in this land, and I fear moreso that the plans of my leader are sinister at least. I do not know what it occurring, for it is beyond my sight at this point. I fear the worst is yet to come, but great rumblings are occuring in the structure of my government and the absence of a sinister Elf by the name of General Dínendal Elensar has worried me deeply. It was just a night ago that I heard our Premier speaking in the Black Speech to a person, or thing, that is not known to me. I write to MISSION, and to you, Elentári Sirithil, in an attempt to save over a quarter billion elves from the wrath of an insane dictator and an evil man of armies. I would fear the most, and I would like to request a meeting in a locale of your choice, preferably in the URHP. Please reply as soon as possible, for I am wary that our time is limited.

She sighed softly as she sent the message, finally rising from her seat and pouring a glass of water from her bedside pitcher. She took a sip as she pondered the resources that were going to be needed to halt the intentions of Kasparov and Dínendal. She would begin contacting other Cabinet members tomorrow, first asking their positions on Elven rights, and slowly leading up to the point. She would crush the evil from within. With a cruel smile, she placed the glass softly down, and prepared for bed.

The change in the Lietuv mountains were unmistakeable from on high. Such massive construction could not be concealed, especially not from a satellite capable of reading a newspaper headline over "Saulum"'s shoulder if it were so directed. It was Elenpalantír 398 that had first noticed the beginning of clear-cutting in the mountains, months previously, and hundreds of others of its kind continued to chronicle the changes in the region as sheer walls of iron and stone rose from the mountain crags. Before long it was unquestionably of military purpose. Nobody suspected the truth, though, yet.

The MISSION contact link had originally been set up for the purpose of "freedom of information" requests - the MISSION archive contained many millions of pages of documents that had been, over the centuries, declassified, and it was an excellent resource for civilian research. However, it had been realized early on that it might also be a source of leads, that people with useful information but no other means of contacting MISSION might use it to bring certain things to the attention of the Empire, and so the contact system had been equipped with quite insane amounts of encryption and spoofing and re-routing of transmissions. So roundabout was the route Itarildë's transmission took after leaving her computer, the transit time took almost an hour; this delay was deemed acceptable in order to protect the integrity of sources.

The missive did, however, eventually reach MISSION, and after much "Holy shit!"'s found its way to one Agent-Commander Ataralassë nos Fithurin... from her it went to Defense Prefect Serendis nos Fithurin and Elentári Sirithil nos Fëanor, both of whom clearly realized its importance... sufficiently that the Elentári granted MISSION carte blanche to handle the situation however necessary.

The next morning a single Elf boarded a commercial flight from Vinyatírion to Hvittsted, on a falsified NYNJ passport.

Hvittsted

The bright morning sun had risen over the horizon, and Hvittsted's streets were bustling already. The suburbs were quieter, but to Itarildë, it was a very eery silence. She was nervous, and began getting ready for work. She decided to wear a pinstripe business suit, and she placed her hair up in a loose bun. As she fed the cat and grabbed herself a breakfast bar, she paused and looked in the mirror. There was a new fire in her eyes...The fire of hope. She smiled slightly at herself, and became proud. She walked to the garage after grabbing her purse, and started her eco-friendly car. She pulled out of the driveway, and began the forty-five minute journey to work.

When she arrived, Itarildë sensed a strange presence she had never felt before. It was as if something dark had entered the Blått Hus, and wrapped itself inside, attempting to consume the souls within. She shook inside, and continued walking, and plastered her fake smile on her face and waved at the lobby staff, who were pale and did not return any smiles. She turned to see what they were watching, and was startled by what she saw. What was supposed to be her favorite guard was now standing a brute figure that was so terribly ugly she could hardly stand it. Her heart lit in anger, and she had the sudden urge to kill the thing. Rather, it stopped her from walking in the double doors that led down the hallway which contained the offices of the Premier and Vice Premier. She looked it hard in the eyes, and curtly greeted the orc. "Hello. I believe I have authorization, being that I am the personal assistant to the Premier." The orc tilted his head slightly. "You dare not speak to me like that, or my binds will find their way around your fragile little wrists, you pointy-eared bitch." Itarildë became angry, and she dropped her purse and grew in height and fury. Her eyes turned from blue to yellow to fiery orange, and her voice boomed. "Dare you insult the kind of the elves, and dare you insult me! Turn away, wretched filth, and exit this place!"

The entire lobby looked on with fear and awe, and as Itarildë shrank back to a normal size, her eyes slowly returned to their original color. She stepped by to allow the orc an exit, yet he did not move. Kasparov then walked into the room, and paled. "Dear Itarildë, what has happened?!" She turned and looked at him with a growing anger again. "How dare you. Your office at this moment." She opened the double doors and walked swiftly, halting in front of his door as he followed close. He opened the door to allow her in, and she turned as he shut it. "What in the hell is that all about?" Kasparov smiled at her. "I know that this is a sudden move, and I'm sorry that I did not tell you before. However, I felt that the Blått Hus needed more security, and orcs are apparently very good at it. Don't worry, it's not as bad as you think." She forced herself to calm down, remembering that she had contacted MISSION the night before, and must allow herself to remain on the inside. "Fine. I don't want anymore insults though, is that understood?" Kasparov nodded, and she turned to begin working on his phone calls, thoughts blazing through her mind.

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Carchost

The bright sun of the morning barely showed, as the smoke had thickened. For at least 30 miles around, the ground was being scorched, and filled with mines in strategic places. SAM sites were also being constructed across the blackened lands, though it was taking longer than it would have originally taken, due to the fact that debris was still scattered all over the place. Saulum looked on with pride out of Minas Carc, and turned to the other side of the tower to look north. A host of orcs was to come today, and he was anxious for their arrival. He had already prepared all provisions needed, and a vast tunnel network was in the works so that they could live underground. For the time being however, temporary barracks were being built above the surface, and the iron pits were billowing smoke and fire as much as ever. The outer walls of Carchost had been completed, and now the four other towers and the inner walls were slated for work. With the new host of orcs of nearly 20,000 arriving, construction would be much quicker. Saulum seated himself at the desk, and turned on his computer. He had received an email from Kasparov, ordering him to produce as much smoke as possible so as to shield Carchost from prying eyes. Saulum chuckled at the Premier's stupidity, for he knew that the eyes of the Menelmacari were ever watchful. He was not concerned, for they did not know why the fortress was being constructed, only that it was. However, he followed the order anyway, and pressed the intercom button that would relay the message all around the 20 sq. mile area in the fortress. In Black Speech, he spoke forcefully and urgently. Any order for his uruk-hai was one of the most importance, and he delivered the message. Within minutes, he saw twice as much smoke billowing into the skies. He smiled wryly as he thought of those tree-hugging elf bastards and what they would say to see the clouds of black issuing forth in their own lands.

The horns sounded in the distance, and Saulum rose to look into the North. A host much larger than he thought was coming upon Carchost, sounding their drums and loudly marching closer. Saulum gazed upon the vast army, and suspected that nearly 40,000 were approaching. Insolent fulls. They cannot arrive with more than demanded, they know that, but of course rules must be broken. And the rule-breakers will be killed. He smiled, for he knew the particular orc that would die. Iglúk wasn't the greatest lieutenant that had served under Saulum, and he was not worthy enough to live anyway. His second in command, Azkul, was a promising leader however, and would find his way quickly rising in the ranks. The North Gate of Carchost slowly opened to allow the Host of Iglúk inside, and the horns sounded once again.

Siri, don't bother posting if you find you have a chance, I've lost interest. I have other plans now, soo yeah. Wouldn't want you to waste your time. ;)