Introduction. This is not a nice guy.
Ever since the Key and the Elf were there, he schemed, plotted, his mind bent on escape.
The breach was there, a small shred of light peeks in the wall, taunting him to press his hands to it - feeling for air, for life, for something to corrupt into darkness and evil. And there is.
Children Men, of course, but also the First Born, and other creatures of darkness and light alike, living and breathing against each other, pulsing to the beat of their own corruptible spirits, contemptibly, temptingly.
He forces his hand in the breach, tears at it, and starlight floods the dark place, summoning a dark grin as the Dark Lord forces himself out of it… and into the Cliff over looking the Mansion. He lands easily, crouching into a ball, and stands, stiffly, bursting into the darkest, evilest laughter one can fathom.
His eye extends over the land, and he rubs his hands maliciously, before he puts them to the ground. On the edge of the cliff, where he touches, the grass dries immediately - never to return, as does the ivy covering the caves.
Dark, ominous clouds gather over the Mansion, and a thunderstorm breaks, powerful and frightful, and lighting strikes randomly. The earth will shake but a moment enough, and things in the Mansion might thus fall from their shelves, and could well hit people on the head, or something. This is however not a very powerful earthquake, just enough to instill fear, not enough to destroy walls or crumple ceilings.
Anyone with paranormal abilities of sorts will feel a sense of doom for about thirty minutes, through dreams, perhaps, but maybe just an overall uneasiness, in which case this might remain longer, and fade. As he particularly hates the Key, he sends him a vicious attack - unknowing of its effect, however.
The effort however drains him, and he finds himself unable to sustain his presence in this world, as the vortex sucks him back into this dark, very dark place with an angry shriek.
T: Melkor, also known as Morgoth or the Dark Lord, from Tolkien’s Silmarillion. He will be back, evidently, but he can very barely sustain his own presence out of his prison, and when wreaking havoc, he expends too much to be able to remain.
Having been banished, he comes in the shape of a bodiless, malevolent fallen angel (that’s what the Valar, the Ainur are, essentially) - unless his typist lets him become again the big, bad, ugly Grond-wielding Morgoth, haha - a form which he will be even less able to sustain outside his void.
The effect of this crack plot will wear out after 30 minutes IC time, or DF time - then, all will return to normal, as if nothing had ever happened - and that might be even eerier.
The breach was there, a small shred of light peeks in the wall, taunting him to press his hands to it - feeling for air, for life, for something to corrupt into darkness and evil. And there is.
Children Men, of course, but also the First Born, and other creatures of darkness and light alike, living and breathing against each other, pulsing to the beat of their own corruptible spirits, contemptibly, temptingly.
He forces his hand in the breach, tears at it, and starlight floods the dark place, summoning a dark grin as the Dark Lord forces himself out of it… and into the Cliff over looking the Mansion. He lands easily, crouching into a ball, and stands, stiffly, bursting into the darkest, evilest laughter one can fathom.
His eye extends over the land, and he rubs his hands maliciously, before he puts them to the ground. On the edge of the cliff, where he touches, the grass dries immediately - never to return, as does the ivy covering the caves.
Dark, ominous clouds gather over the Mansion, and a thunderstorm breaks, powerful and frightful, and lighting strikes randomly. The earth will shake but a moment enough, and things in the Mansion might thus fall from their shelves, and could well hit people on the head, or something. This is however not a very powerful earthquake, just enough to instill fear, not enough to destroy walls or crumple ceilings.
Anyone with paranormal abilities of sorts will feel a sense of doom for about thirty minutes, through dreams, perhaps, but maybe just an overall uneasiness, in which case this might remain longer, and fade. As he particularly hates the Key, he sends him a vicious attack - unknowing of its effect, however.
The effort however drains him, and he finds himself unable to sustain his presence in this world, as the vortex sucks him back into this dark, very dark place with an angry shriek.
T: Melkor, also known as Morgoth or the Dark Lord, from Tolkien’s Silmarillion. He will be back, evidently, but he can very barely sustain his own presence out of his prison, and when wreaking havoc, he expends too much to be able to remain.
Having been banished, he comes in the shape of a bodiless, malevolent fallen angel (that’s what the Valar, the Ainur are, essentially) - unless his typist lets him become again the big, bad, ugly Grond-wielding Morgoth, haha - a form which he will be even less able to sustain outside his void.
The effect of this crack plot will wear out after 30 minutes IC time, or DF time - then, all will return to normal, as if nothing had ever happened - and that might be even eerier.