because when Feanorions go crazy, they go /really/ darn crazy
Merlin: *Merlin looks at Pytio - the voice is still there. Still powerful, yet...* You will fail.
Ambarussa: *stares back, something pained and desperate in his eyes behind the anger* I must try.
Merlin: *is moved but not enough to open the gate* Why?
Ambarussa: An Oath such as we swore cannot be forsaken. If you will not aid me I will find someone else, because I must.
Merlin: *but Merlin is the only one with the Key. He ponders, his mind racing* Your mind will not sustain the shock, Pytio.
Ambarussa: It isn't your choice to make. This is something that I must do. Show me where he is. *voice is level, tight, controlled*
Merlin: *against his better judgement...* then I will not be held liable of the consequences. Come. *He stands.*
Ambarussa: *gives a short, choppy nod and places a hand to the sword that he is undoubtedly wearing especially in this condition* Show me.
Merlin: *starts to lead him to the cliff. Merlin is glumly silent throughout the walk. He does not like this at all.*
Ambarussa: *walks behind him purposefully, would know without doubt that he is going to his doom were he willing to think, but he's not, so he just stares straight ahead, hand on sword, and walks*
Merlin: *the cliff is overlooking the countryside. It is a beautiful place, really, and the wind is low. If Pytio has any ability to sense this, he will feel that great pain was endured here. Merlin certainly feels it. This is where Pandora tried to immolate herself to the Sun. He shudders and mutters to himself.* This place never did carry good omens.
Ambarussa: *if he could he probably wouldn't notice it, dwelling as he is on his own pain* Nothing connected with the Dark Lord ever has. *a slow breath, drawing his sword* Open the gate.
Merlin: *gives him an eyebrow look.* I am not your servant.
Ambarussa: *is/was/will be a powerful Warlord in his own right and is/was/will be (isn't memoryscrewing AWFUL at times?) accustomed to command, and doesn't really care* Open the gate.
Merlin: *grumbles something about knights, kings and stewards and how they have manners at least. Then, he decides that this obnoxious elf deserves whatever punishment will come his way, and proceeds to the incantation. The wind blows in his robes, and he takes on a more powerful stance, despite the humility of his appearance. His hands make calculated, careless-looking gestures, and a vortex of energy, of no color and all colors at onces, begins to form.*
Ambarussa: *if the wind exists in more than Merlin's robes Pityo will raise a hand to shield his eyes, staring into the vortex. There is no awe or fear, only raw, hopeless determination*
Merlin: *the wind is everywhere, spreading like a malevolent spirit does as soon as it gets a chance. The vortex started out small, but it widens with a screeching sound, its outside spinning dangerously.*
Ambarussa: *plants his feet and narrows his eyes against the wind, but never for a moment does he take his eyes from the vortex and his hand still grips his sword*
Merlin: *when the vortex is large enough for two, Merlin opens a hand to him.* Come. I will lead you. *Unless he takes Merlin's hand, he will not be able to cross. Merlin /is/ the Key.*
Ambarussa: *watches just a moment, then steps forward and takes Merlin's hand with a firm grip*
Merlin: *and so they cross into the Vortex. Inside, there are voices, whispering things lost and forgotten, vile and lovely both, in all tongues and on all tones.*
Ambarussa: *his eyes dart back and forth for a moment, seeking the source, but finding nothing he resolutely sets his eyes ahead and moves forward in search of the Dark Lord*
Merlin: *the vortex dissipates and so do the voices, slowly. They are in a dark place now, where nothing is quite visible beyond one meter. No matter who you are. Under his breath* he is near.
Ambarussa: *slowly raises his sword in front of him, eyes straining against the darkness, not being able to see bothers him deeply, more than he shows* Show yourself, Morgoth! *his voice is sharp and makes the name sound like an insult, which it is* I have come to reclaim what is mine!
Merlin: *moves only one step away from Pytio as he feels responsible for him - yet this is not his fight.*
Melkorgoth: *still dark. we like dark* Reclaim what is yours? And why should I give you that chance, Amrod son of Feanor?
Ambarussa: *looks back and forth, eyes wide against the darkness, still unable to see anything beyond the blade in front of him* You are a coward and a theif, and I /will/ take back what you have stolen!
Merlin: *is making hand gestures apart. Morgoth might know that he is weaving some sort of magic.*
Melkorgoth: You've come back, old man. *something slams against that working and against Merlin* *a movement in the darkness* And where is your brother, Amrod?
Ambarussa: *abruptly his eyes darken and he howls with rage, charging madly and blindly toward the movement, sword swinging. his fragile control snapped like a twig*
Melkorgoth: *well, here's Morgoth for you! and a Grond. Yay.* You have no shield. Only a sword. What do you imagine you can do? *swings at said sword, aiming to shatter it*
Merlin: *sustained the hit with steely will. Is still weaving his spell, though it's much more difficult.*
Ambarussa: *throws himself to the side, pushing his sword out of the way, though with the darkness it's hard to guage his steps and he stumbles, the actions leavng him wide open and unprotected from a being he can still hardly see*
Merlin: *the spell is thrown. Pytio now has a shield around him, and it glows, too! Hello, Morgoth!*
Ambarussa: *the sudden light from the shield startles Pityo as well, however, and makes it /harder/ to see as his eyes were adjusted to the pitch dark, it'll take a minute for them to adjust. he tries to squint through it*
Melkorgoth: *well, hello craters too. hmmph.* *well takes advantage of that momentary distraction and moves again to - probably break something. if it works*
Ambarussa: *he can't dodge, he bearly has time to raise his sword to take the hit, and so the blow lands solidly on Merlin's shield....*
Melkorgoth: *well, hello craters too. hmmph.* *well,
takes advantage of that momentary distraction and moves again to - probably break something. if it works*
Ambarussa: *he can't dodge, he bearly has time to raise his sword to take the hit, and so the blow lands solidly on Merlin's shield....*
Merlin: *the shield holds the hit, but a cracking sound is heard.*
Melkorgoth: *again with the something slamming into Merlin at the same time as the hammer/mace/whatever swings again, for the same place*
Ambarussa: *has his feet under him now and jumps back, meaning to lunge forward swinging for Morgoth's neck the moment the mace finishes the swing, unless the shield fails to hold*
Merlin: *is distracted from his everlasting conjuration, but speaks a word in Quenya - the word of the Valar, the word which reminds the Dark Lord that he may not kill the Key, lest he be trapped forever. He weaves, though blood is dripping from his nose.*
Melkorgoth: *oh. well. dammit. that's great.* *a snarl*
Ambarussa: *lunges then and swings at the Dark Lord's throat*
Melkorgoth: *hoshit - moves to block it and press back against him if he can* You never answered my question. Could it be that your brother is /dead/?
Merlin: *the Valar have a sense of humor.*
Ambarussa: *is pushed, stumbles backward to break away and aims a wild stab at Morgoth's belly. *he's trying not to listen to the taunts but it's impossible, and the rage and pain of it make him reckless*
Melkorgoth: *moves to block that, though not quite so well, still trying to get on the offensive* And /how/ would that happen?
Ambarussa: *the only response is a wordless snarl, he's moving faster now, enraged, drawing back again only to strike again a moment later at the arm that holds Grond*
Melkorgoth: *jerks back, but still, ow, moves more seriously to strike at him again, not just at the shield but at Amrod as well*
Merlin: *more blood is dripping from Merlin's nose, his hands are covering in bruises for the effort, but the conjuration is done and ready to be used. He watches, intent. This may not be his fight, but he /will/ bring back Pytio.*
Ambarussa: *throws himself back and away from the blow but not quite fast enough, only the shield between him and the mace....*
Melkorgoth: *snarls* Could it perhaps be that Feanor has made a /mistake?/
Merlin: *the shield is cracked and can only sustain one more blow*
Melkorgoth: *draws back and swings again, but there might be enough time for Pityo to move*
Ambarussa: *he snarls again as he raises his sword to block the blow....his arms shake and the metal of the sword makes a terrible sound as the impact drives him to one knee*
Merlin: *winces*
Melkorgoth: *raises it again to drive it down onto his sword arm*
Ambarussa: *can't move quickly enough from that position, so starts to raise sword again, but it's an awkward position*
Merlin: *is watching, intently, ready to put an end to this madness if it is fit.*
Melkorgoth: *hits the sword instead of the arm, though with considerable force nonetheless*
Ambarussa: *there is a sound of twisting metal as the sword is nearly driven down into his own arm, it be useless now for blocking Grond...it is well made, but Ringil it ain't. Pityo's eyes widen as he realizes this, and still he is on one knee on the ground and his arms ache from the effort. he makes a last desperate lunge with the remains of his sword for the Dark Lord's heart*
Melkorgoth: *well. that's effective. armor and everything. and he laughs and moves to DELIVER THE SMACKDOWN*
Merlin: *but this is enough. The Key moves at unnatural speed and a flash of light floods the place. Merlin and Pytio are falling in open space.*
Melkorgoth: *awww, man.*
Ambarussa: *instinctively throws one arm up to shield himself (like that will help) and---whattheheckwhere'dhego? O__O*
Merlin: *it's a place full of murmurs and calls but not at all like the vortex. There are swimming lights that look like fireflies. Then /zap/. They are at the bottom of the cliff.*
Ambarussa: *the disorientation of the sudden light and falling and then solid ground again is too much, he stumbles and collapses, the fading adreneline at the same time making him abruptly aware of just how much his arms and shoulders and back /ache/ from the effort of blocking Morgoth's blows, and his muscles shake with exhaustion*
Merlin: I saved your life. *flatly*
Ambarussa: *darkly* You meddle in things that you do not understand. *turns on his heel to storm off before he does something...well. /he/ wouldn't regret it."
Merlin: *flatly* Yes. I know. I meddle. I am Merlin. *sue me*
Ambarussa: *whirls again, getting in Merlin's face, the stub of a sword still clenched in his raised hand uncomfortably close to Merlin's neck.* *growls* You had better mind your meddling. If it happens again you /will/ regret it. *means every word, and has no reason /not/ to spill blood. again. He forces his hand back and down, and begins to stride away before he can do anything (else) rash*
Merlin: *receives the thread quite sedately.* Yeah. You should meet Mordred.
Ambarussa: *spins to hurl the remains of the sword like a throwing knife, aimed at Merlin's neck*
Merlin: *vanishes. As we said, folding reality is cool*
Ambarussa: *roars in homicidal rage and frustration, slamming his fist into the cliff face beside him. his hand comes away bloody but he barely notices as he turns and advances toward the mansion like an incoming storm. He needs a new sword, and that's the best place to get it. because when Feanorions go crazy, they go /really/ darn crazy.*
Ambarussa: *stares back, something pained and desperate in his eyes behind the anger* I must try.
Merlin: *is moved but not enough to open the gate* Why?
Ambarussa: An Oath such as we swore cannot be forsaken. If you will not aid me I will find someone else, because I must.
Merlin: *but Merlin is the only one with the Key. He ponders, his mind racing* Your mind will not sustain the shock, Pytio.
Ambarussa: It isn't your choice to make. This is something that I must do. Show me where he is. *voice is level, tight, controlled*
Merlin: *against his better judgement...* then I will not be held liable of the consequences. Come. *He stands.*
Ambarussa: *gives a short, choppy nod and places a hand to the sword that he is undoubtedly wearing especially in this condition* Show me.
Merlin: *starts to lead him to the cliff. Merlin is glumly silent throughout the walk. He does not like this at all.*
Ambarussa: *walks behind him purposefully, would know without doubt that he is going to his doom were he willing to think, but he's not, so he just stares straight ahead, hand on sword, and walks*
Merlin: *the cliff is overlooking the countryside. It is a beautiful place, really, and the wind is low. If Pytio has any ability to sense this, he will feel that great pain was endured here. Merlin certainly feels it. This is where Pandora tried to immolate herself to the Sun. He shudders and mutters to himself.* This place never did carry good omens.
Ambarussa: *if he could he probably wouldn't notice it, dwelling as he is on his own pain* Nothing connected with the Dark Lord ever has. *a slow breath, drawing his sword* Open the gate.
Merlin: *gives him an eyebrow look.* I am not your servant.
Ambarussa: *is/was/will be a powerful Warlord in his own right and is/was/will be (isn't memoryscrewing AWFUL at times?) accustomed to command, and doesn't really care* Open the gate.
Merlin: *grumbles something about knights, kings and stewards and how they have manners at least. Then, he decides that this obnoxious elf deserves whatever punishment will come his way, and proceeds to the incantation. The wind blows in his robes, and he takes on a more powerful stance, despite the humility of his appearance. His hands make calculated, careless-looking gestures, and a vortex of energy, of no color and all colors at onces, begins to form.*
Ambarussa: *if the wind exists in more than Merlin's robes Pityo will raise a hand to shield his eyes, staring into the vortex. There is no awe or fear, only raw, hopeless determination*
Merlin: *the wind is everywhere, spreading like a malevolent spirit does as soon as it gets a chance. The vortex started out small, but it widens with a screeching sound, its outside spinning dangerously.*
Ambarussa: *plants his feet and narrows his eyes against the wind, but never for a moment does he take his eyes from the vortex and his hand still grips his sword*
Merlin: *when the vortex is large enough for two, Merlin opens a hand to him.* Come. I will lead you. *Unless he takes Merlin's hand, he will not be able to cross. Merlin /is/ the Key.*
Ambarussa: *watches just a moment, then steps forward and takes Merlin's hand with a firm grip*
Merlin: *and so they cross into the Vortex. Inside, there are voices, whispering things lost and forgotten, vile and lovely both, in all tongues and on all tones.*
Ambarussa: *his eyes dart back and forth for a moment, seeking the source, but finding nothing he resolutely sets his eyes ahead and moves forward in search of the Dark Lord*
Merlin: *the vortex dissipates and so do the voices, slowly. They are in a dark place now, where nothing is quite visible beyond one meter. No matter who you are. Under his breath* he is near.
Ambarussa: *slowly raises his sword in front of him, eyes straining against the darkness, not being able to see bothers him deeply, more than he shows* Show yourself, Morgoth! *his voice is sharp and makes the name sound like an insult, which it is* I have come to reclaim what is mine!
Merlin: *moves only one step away from Pytio as he feels responsible for him - yet this is not his fight.*
Melkorgoth: *still dark. we like dark* Reclaim what is yours? And why should I give you that chance, Amrod son of Feanor?
Ambarussa: *looks back and forth, eyes wide against the darkness, still unable to see anything beyond the blade in front of him* You are a coward and a theif, and I /will/ take back what you have stolen!
Merlin: *is making hand gestures apart. Morgoth might know that he is weaving some sort of magic.*
Melkorgoth: You've come back, old man. *something slams against that working and against Merlin* *a movement in the darkness* And where is your brother, Amrod?
Ambarussa: *abruptly his eyes darken and he howls with rage, charging madly and blindly toward the movement, sword swinging. his fragile control snapped like a twig*
Melkorgoth: *well, here's Morgoth for you! and a Grond. Yay.* You have no shield. Only a sword. What do you imagine you can do? *swings at said sword, aiming to shatter it*
Merlin: *sustained the hit with steely will. Is still weaving his spell, though it's much more difficult.*
Ambarussa: *throws himself to the side, pushing his sword out of the way, though with the darkness it's hard to guage his steps and he stumbles, the actions leavng him wide open and unprotected from a being he can still hardly see*
Merlin: *the spell is thrown. Pytio now has a shield around him, and it glows, too! Hello, Morgoth!*
Ambarussa: *the sudden light from the shield startles Pityo as well, however, and makes it /harder/ to see as his eyes were adjusted to the pitch dark, it'll take a minute for them to adjust. he tries to squint through it*
Melkorgoth: *well, hello craters too. hmmph.* *well takes advantage of that momentary distraction and moves again to - probably break something. if it works*
Ambarussa: *he can't dodge, he bearly has time to raise his sword to take the hit, and so the blow lands solidly on Merlin's shield....*
Melkorgoth: *well, hello craters too. hmmph.* *well,
takes advantage of that momentary distraction and moves again to - probably break something. if it works*
Ambarussa: *he can't dodge, he bearly has time to raise his sword to take the hit, and so the blow lands solidly on Merlin's shield....*
Merlin: *the shield holds the hit, but a cracking sound is heard.*
Melkorgoth: *again with the something slamming into Merlin at the same time as the hammer/mace/whatever swings again, for the same place*
Ambarussa: *has his feet under him now and jumps back, meaning to lunge forward swinging for Morgoth's neck the moment the mace finishes the swing, unless the shield fails to hold*
Merlin: *is distracted from his everlasting conjuration, but speaks a word in Quenya - the word of the Valar, the word which reminds the Dark Lord that he may not kill the Key, lest he be trapped forever. He weaves, though blood is dripping from his nose.*
Melkorgoth: *oh. well. dammit. that's great.* *a snarl*
Ambarussa: *lunges then and swings at the Dark Lord's throat*
Melkorgoth: *hoshit - moves to block it and press back against him if he can* You never answered my question. Could it be that your brother is /dead/?
Merlin: *the Valar have a sense of humor.*
Ambarussa: *is pushed, stumbles backward to break away and aims a wild stab at Morgoth's belly. *he's trying not to listen to the taunts but it's impossible, and the rage and pain of it make him reckless*
Melkorgoth: *moves to block that, though not quite so well, still trying to get on the offensive* And /how/ would that happen?
Ambarussa: *the only response is a wordless snarl, he's moving faster now, enraged, drawing back again only to strike again a moment later at the arm that holds Grond*
Melkorgoth: *jerks back, but still, ow, moves more seriously to strike at him again, not just at the shield but at Amrod as well*
Merlin: *more blood is dripping from Merlin's nose, his hands are covering in bruises for the effort, but the conjuration is done and ready to be used. He watches, intent. This may not be his fight, but he /will/ bring back Pytio.*
Ambarussa: *throws himself back and away from the blow but not quite fast enough, only the shield between him and the mace....*
Melkorgoth: *snarls* Could it perhaps be that Feanor has made a /mistake?/
Merlin: *the shield is cracked and can only sustain one more blow*
Melkorgoth: *draws back and swings again, but there might be enough time for Pityo to move*
Ambarussa: *he snarls again as he raises his sword to block the blow....his arms shake and the metal of the sword makes a terrible sound as the impact drives him to one knee*
Merlin: *winces*
Melkorgoth: *raises it again to drive it down onto his sword arm*
Ambarussa: *can't move quickly enough from that position, so starts to raise sword again, but it's an awkward position*
Merlin: *is watching, intently, ready to put an end to this madness if it is fit.*
Melkorgoth: *hits the sword instead of the arm, though with considerable force nonetheless*
Ambarussa: *there is a sound of twisting metal as the sword is nearly driven down into his own arm, it be useless now for blocking Grond...it is well made, but Ringil it ain't. Pityo's eyes widen as he realizes this, and still he is on one knee on the ground and his arms ache from the effort. he makes a last desperate lunge with the remains of his sword for the Dark Lord's heart*
Melkorgoth: *well. that's effective. armor and everything. and he laughs and moves to DELIVER THE SMACKDOWN*
Merlin: *but this is enough. The Key moves at unnatural speed and a flash of light floods the place. Merlin and Pytio are falling in open space.*
Melkorgoth: *awww, man.*
Ambarussa: *instinctively throws one arm up to shield himself (like that will help) and---whattheheckwhere'dhego? O__O*
Merlin: *it's a place full of murmurs and calls but not at all like the vortex. There are swimming lights that look like fireflies. Then /zap/. They are at the bottom of the cliff.*
Ambarussa: *the disorientation of the sudden light and falling and then solid ground again is too much, he stumbles and collapses, the fading adreneline at the same time making him abruptly aware of just how much his arms and shoulders and back /ache/ from the effort of blocking Morgoth's blows, and his muscles shake with exhaustion*
Merlin: I saved your life. *flatly*
Ambarussa: *darkly* You meddle in things that you do not understand. *turns on his heel to storm off before he does something...well. /he/ wouldn't regret it."
Merlin: *flatly* Yes. I know. I meddle. I am Merlin. *sue me*
Ambarussa: *whirls again, getting in Merlin's face, the stub of a sword still clenched in his raised hand uncomfortably close to Merlin's neck.* *growls* You had better mind your meddling. If it happens again you /will/ regret it. *means every word, and has no reason /not/ to spill blood. again. He forces his hand back and down, and begins to stride away before he can do anything (else) rash*
Merlin: *receives the thread quite sedately.* Yeah. You should meet Mordred.
Ambarussa: *spins to hurl the remains of the sword like a throwing knife, aimed at Merlin's neck*
Merlin: *vanishes. As we said, folding reality is cool*
Ambarussa: *roars in homicidal rage and frustration, slamming his fist into the cliff face beside him. his hand comes away bloody but he barely notices as he turns and advances toward the mansion like an incoming storm. He needs a new sword, and that's the best place to get it. because when Feanorions go crazy, they go /really/ darn crazy.*