[Dagor Silmarillion - First Age] Quenta Silmarillion (Roleplay Hotseat)

[Arrow2daknee]

Wow, 9,000 good cannot defeat 10,000 orcs? Are the evil forces very high quality or just normal orcs?

They are equivalent to vanilla Mordor I think, but their armies were filled with AP units (Orc fellers, Orc/Uruk Halberds, Orc Maulers) which made a huge difference. Also, Gondolin's troops were not high quality.

That being said I still didn't expect a clear defeat. I suggest we start preparations for the next battle, my allies.

[Adanedhel]

The odds were 2:1 in our favor. We had high tier soldiers with the exception of a few units. Obiously we went in not knowing what to expect, but I thought we could snatch the average victory, at least. Both Turkafinwe and me tried. I'm guessing the Balrog super strong units + high command + a bunch of really good Mordor units (Uruks with 8,14 stats and the piercing units, as Arrow mentioned) made the difference.

[JCdestr0yer]

sorry for the lateness in the middle of some final year uni stuff after friday i am free will try to get this done soon

[Jadli]

Well, this sounds as tragical as is Quenta Silmarillion supposed to be

I think we can formally "end" Dagor Bragollach - The Battle of Sudden Flame, since the armies of Morgoth apparently managed to break the siege of Angband. (of course, the war continues...).

Ill attempt to get Beren and Luthien event started during the Christmas, and soon also Nirnaeth Arnoediad - The Battle of Unnumbered tears. If the relevant factions/players for Beren/Luthien event have some ideas how to handle this event, post there or lemme know please.

Anyway, so far amazing roleplaying from you all!

[Adanedhel]

All is good in the end, the lore is preserved. Cause our next step would've been storming Thangorodrim so we dodged that bullet!

[JCdestr0yer]

http://www.mediafire.com/file/me7f6i...rim_6.sav/file

[joerock22]

High Chieftain Guorwe took a deep breath, feeling a bit of the tension leave his shoulders. He had just spent several hours in the midst of a council of war with his subordinates. Finally he felt that he had heard everything anyone had to say, and dismissed the group. Now he had to make his decision.

On the one hand, the prospect of finishing off the defeated orcs and bats was an enticing one indeed. But the tactical situation weighed against it. The small force of cavalry which he had sent ahead to build siege equipment had been defeated. Without the equipment, the enemy lair within the ancient ruins of some forgotten city was well-defended enough to require a protracted siege. And a siege meant time for the enemy to bring in reinforcements. He trusted his scouts, but there were so many possible approaches, and the enemy moved through his forest home so rapidly, that he could never guarantee that there were no reinforcing armies within range. It was too risky, especially when the balance of power could be tipped by even a small force of reinforcements.

So he would withdraw. The Laegrim’s first sortie beyond their borders had been a success, but they had suffered dearly for it. They would return home, retrain and replenish their numbers, and prepare for the next inevitable engagement.

He had just risen to summon his subordinates when one of them stepped inside the tent, bringing a letter from Nurwe. Guorwe tried to keep his hands from shaking as he unfurled it, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. The lettering was hastily done, a far cry from Nurwe’s normally refined, almost pretentious scrawl. But the words definitely belonged to his son.

Lord Father,

I know that you sent me to govern Lanthir Lamas to allow me to recover from the battle outside of Calen Ossiriand. Up until this morning, I resented you for that. Now, I am grateful. The time away from the front did help, though I hate to admit it. More importantly, I was exactly where our kingdom needed me to be.

We received word that a force of wolves and wargs was moving across the southern part of our lands toward Tol Galen. As I’m sure you recall, we captured the village some time ago to act as a buffer for Lanthir Lamas. Rather than let this incursion go unanswered, I mustered the garrison of Lanthir Lamas and marched for Tol Galen with all haste. Unfortunately, the wolves arrived before we did, and slaughtered the few defenders. They were still ransacking the village when we arrived. Before they knew it, we had them surrounded.

Sensing the danger, the enemy attacked. Our army consisted mostly of spearmen, garrison troops who were never intended to see large-scale battle in the field. But in these desperate times, every elven warrior may be called up on to fight. I wish you could have seen it, father, the sight of our brave infantry holding back wave upon wave of frantic beasts. Slowly we advanced, enclosing the enemy in an ever tighter circle, leaving a trail of corpses behind us. Finally the enemy was slain to the last, including an exceptionally large and powerful wolf named Ghashum. Intelligence indicates that he was a high-ranking chieftain, so hopefully his death will send the enemy reeling for some time. But we held only a slight numerical advantage to start the battle, and animals fight most ferociously when trapped. Many of our brave warriors died today, but even so, their struggle and sacrifice gives me hope for the future of our people.

We are not, however, out of danger. Our army is depleted, and though we will hold defensive positions within the village for the night, we do not know if the enemy will be able to attack us. The lands to the south are vast, and we do not have adequate scouting in the area to ensure that we ourselves have not walked into a trap. Ghashum’s presence in the village leads me to believe that he did not expect our assault, but that does not mean that his force was the only force of enemies in the area.

Assuming we survive the night and our journey back to Lanthir Lamas, I will write you another letter when we arrive. And if this is the last you hear from me, know that I go to meet our ancestors without regret.

Nurwe

Guorwe folded the letter neatly and placed it inside his robes, next to his heart. Then he summoned his subordinates and gave the order to prepare to move out. Finally, once he was alone, he fell to his knees and began to pray.

Morgoth:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1a6i...ew?usp=sharing

Battle of Tol Galen:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1UlB...ew?usp=sharing
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1pSx...ew?usp=sharing

[JCdestr0yer]

"Dwarfs, our time has come we shall reclaim our lost homes. For the glory of the clans for our great city sound the horns and play the drums we march to victory. We will drive these creatures out of our homes we will drive them out of our land. For the glory of the dwarves. Our boots shall tramble these drakes, we the dwarves shall wipe clean this stain from our history. Years from now they will say it is the dwarves that saved the world, not the elves or humans. Gather your axes, grab your amour and carry your shields. We shall not have a single step back I issue this as a law. The dwarves will not retreat one step back unless approved by the King. So march. There is no retreat, no surrender only death or victory. We shall be the flame that either burns out in a glorious battle or burns the way for freedom for all of our allies. For the Glory of Gabilgathol." (dwarven name of Belegost I think found a few images by a person who has a great picture of the dwarves killing a dragon).

[Captain Melon]

The battlefield was burning. Every direction for more than a mile was a smoking wasteland, filled with the dead. Elves, Orcs and Men lay motionless with some burnt to a crisp and others being looted by the surviving Orcs. Screams echoed across the field, those of surviving Elves and Men being tortured. along with evil laughter from the ones causing them harm. But their laughter stopped as heavy thumps shook the ground. All the orcs in the way of Gothmog had scattered as he marched to the fort, flanked by his lesser kin. This was a great victory for his master but it was only the beginning. Plans had to be made and a report to his dark master.

"P-please.....don....AGHH (Followed by a squishing sound)" A wounded man had cried that was left by his tormentors on the ground as he was squished to a pulp by the passing Balrog.

Get these scum back in formation, we march soon to the South! Boomed Gothmog to his kinsman as he marched on to the fort.

A large dark bird flew above the courtyard and perched itself on a wooden beam. As Gothmog approached he acknowledged it.

We have achieved victory master! Shall we proceed to the South?

The bird cackled gleefully as back in Angband Morgoth did the same. It had been long since the Dark Lord had felt such.....satisfaction.

Good work Gothmog. The Eldar flee like the frightened children scum that they are. But do not advance yet! I am sending another of my.....trusted servants to assist you. Wait for him and his reinforcments to make their move to the west of you. For now secure the fens of Sirion and await for further orders!

The bird flew off as Gothmog suddenly realized who his master had sent to assist him. And he was not pleased....for he wanted all the glory for himself.



Morgoth sat in his throne, looking at the map of Beleriand in his mind's eye and planning what his armies will do now that siege of Angband had been broken. The Elven host and the houses of Men that came to their aid were scattered. But Morgoth knew that he had to be cautious. Even weakened, the Eldar were still powerful and posed a threat to his forces. The fortresses in the Pass of Sirion had to fall first as the ones in Ard Galen in the east as well, before his ultimate goals were to come to fruition.



The fields of Ard Galen had burned as Morgoth's armies had marched from Ladros towards the east. Soon the Sons of Faenor would taste defeat as their kin in the west.

[General Dragon.]

Ulfang up!
https://www.sendspace.com/file/kncps7

Some of the last remnants of House Bor has been eradicated once and for all. Their great nation, people and all that mattered are nothing but dust in the gaze of the Dark Lord! Now Glaurung and his children slowly following up the trails of devastation left by the Balrogs after they defeated the great elven armies.
https://imgur.com/9Sa7odw
https://imgur.com/hDE5Y5D

Near the Blue Mountains a small elven army thought they can retake a small village belong to them, but were taken by drakes. Their hope evaporated, when a great host of many dragon swarmed them directly coming from the mountains and almost completely wiped them out. Only a handful managed to retreat from the village, but even then their numbers went down even further as several drakes chased after them. Amras, the elven general fell in the second battle shattering the hope for the rest of the elves.
https://imgur.com/OxHxKyM
https://imgur.com/P02JbxY


Ungoliant were very busy "refurnishing" her lair, but her sight was diverted, when a lone elven general came to his land. Ungoliant swiftly moved to attack at the sight of fresh meat and only with many elven bodyguard sacrifive did Duilin managed to escape, from Ungoliant claws.
https://imgur.com/1MPyd9H


Meanwhile in the far south the tug of war between the forces of light and the creatures of night goes on. The hordes left a wound on the nations of Laegrim, but then they were wiped out and now a new horde is gathering in the deep, dark forests slowly ready to swarm out. In Nargothrond land the current swarm is still roaming and rampaging freely. One could say the elven king might be too afraid to even face these creatures and instead hides in his capital city instead of facing them sacrificing many for his own life. Another settlement fell prey and another will follow again and this pleases the Dark Lord! The vast lands are unsafe and many more will meet their doom, as long as this army of creatures roam free.
https://imgur.com/XaZVf7R

[Jadli]

Dimfrost taken from the beasts of the night... Fingolfin up! http://www.mediafire.com/file/1zyopv...fin_7.sav/file

[Adanedhel]

Fingolfin

The host of Fingolfin, at its head the king’s son Fingon, was retreating north-west after the horrific scenes that took place only a couple hours before. The great battle was lost and a huge portion of the finest soldiers of the Noldor perished that day. The men of Dor-lomin also suffered terrible losses. The full death count was still unknown as elves and men retreated in all directions, running for their lives in tears and among cries of anguish for their friends and comrades. The commanders, most notably Fingon, showed great leadership at this time and managed to lead some of the scattered people away from the wreckage of the battle, even though inside Fingon felt as devastated as his people.

After reaching Barad Eithel, one of the fortresses of Fingolfin, Fingon order his captains to make him a report of all the survivors and start to regroup and remarshal the remaining forces. The men of House Marach were also beginning to arrive, as this was the only reasonable destination to make for after the defeat.

“Lord Vanimon,” Fingon called one of the commanders of his household, “have we any news of Angrod and his host?”

“Yes, my lord. They have retreated to their fortress in the south, but the enemy was close on their heels. We suspect they have been besieged soon after.”

Fingon cursed under his nose. “So they are trapped… My dear cousins…” Many fond memories with Angrod and Aegnor came to his mind, as he tried to hold back his tears. “Maybe we could attempt a”

“Fingon!” the elf was suddenly interrupted by an approaching man. It was Galdor of House Marach and he looked distressed. “Forgive me, but I need to speak to you about a most urgent matter to me.

“What is it, my friend?” Fingon asked.

“It’s about my son, Hurin. He is not with us and none of my men here have seen him since the battle. Is he with you?”

“I have seen some men arrive earlier, but none of them were Hurin, I’m afraid.”

“That is terrible news” the man replied, losing what was left of his hope.

Seeing this Fingon quickly added, “I am sure he will be fine, Galdor, he’s a valiant and resourceful man. I will send out word to the elven lords to be watchful for him and extend their protection over him, if they find him.

“Thank you, friend” the man said and turned away.

Fingon turned again to speak to Vanimon, but he wasn’t there. Instead, one of the captains, serving under the banner of Fingolfin, with whom he talked before, came up to him, and with him was a another elf.

“My lord, I have spoken to everyone in my unit, as you requested, and no one has seen your father after the battle, except one standing next to me, by the name of Falindir.

“What have you to say, Falindir?” Fingon asked turning to the young elf.

“My lord, I cannot say for certain, with all the confusion, yelling and fighting during the retreat, but I believe I saw your father riding north. I was standing near Fingolfin when we finally broke free from the chasing Balrogs and turned our horses west. But then I heard a loud scream on my right, like anger, grief and despair mingled into one, and when I looked, your father was spurring his horse in a different direction than ours, it seemed to me he was riding north for some reason. I shouted after him, but he rode on, heedless of everything else.

Fingon, without another word or thinking things through, started running like a mad person towards the stables, and the people that were near enough only heard: “No, no, no, no, no…”

Marach

“Father,” Huor came running to Galdor, as soon as he saw him approach, “what did Fingon say?”

“Hurin is not here. The elf lord didn’t see him come with his host. Your brother must have separated with some of the men during that troll ambush in the woods. Curse them! Fingon will inform us as soon as he knows anything… All we can do right now is hope and trust that he finds safe passage.” The man sighed and continued, “We must take thought of our own forces that are left and regroup. Huor, I need you to ride back to Dor-lomin, as fast as you can, and gather what men you can. Fingon didn’t speak to me of our next move yet, but we must be prepared to aid the elves.

“Yes, father. I will go right away.”


Feanor: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Gg...fkNNaB1u1S7LSy

[King Athelstan]

<sub>"They come from the east! We must repel them! Our settlement has fallen! Please m'lord, drive them back!"
The Captain of Ard-Galen met a pitiful sight. He had risen from his chambers and gone to inspect the guards, for one must be ever vigilant with the dragons in the east, and Morgoth in the north. He stepped outside, and heard clamor by the gates. Gazing east whence the sound came, he saw a great pyre of smoke rising from a distance. He hurried to the gate. There, he saw broken elves. They were shaggy, had torn and broken clothes and looked as if they had run for a fortnight without food nor rest. Which he found out they had.
What is the meaning of this? he asked the closest guard. Before he could get a response, what looked to be the leader walked up to him. He had a head of golden hair. It was dirty, but fair.
They have burned our well and tossed the dead in the well!
Is your home now no more than an empty shell?
We who could fled, for the dragons burned all that is.
I will make sure they get justice from this.
Are you sure? We could not fight back, after all they were dragons.
We must hurry then. Guard, load up the wagons!
With that, the captain called out his guard, loaded up his wagons and marched out of Ard-Galen. Most of the garrison still remained, for danger was always abound. He took his own guard with him and volunteers from the town to fight the dragons.

And so, upon the fourth day of march they fell upon the sleeping dragons in good numbers. But the dragons were swift and strong, and many an elf perished. They fought with more fury than one could imagine, flames soaring and killing and burning and laying havoc on the land. However, the dragons were few and the elves many, and thus they fell one by one, before launching themselves high up in the air, where no bow could reach them. They flew east. The battle, or rather skirmish was won. But at high cost, and more were in the east. the Captain yelled to his second-in command
Press on, press on, kill them all!
If we press on they will turn, and we will fall!
Very well, then we shall turn back
But let it be known that we no spirit lack!

And so the party turned back and marched towards Ard-Galen. A small skirmish had been won, but any good news was welcomed with the siege broken.


Doriath https://drive.google.com/file/d/1nP6...ew?usp=sharing</sub>

(Pics for the battle didn't save, was a small one, defeated units went back to settlement)

[paladinbob123]

The Siege of Morgoth was broken and his forces now moved to attack the southeastern areas, confident that the elves had been forced back on the southwestern front. The battles that had long been fought to contain the depth of his evil was named as the "Dagor Bragollach" or the Battle of Sudden Flame . Indeed even as far in Doriath , scouts had moved towards the border of the lands of the House of Beor, to check wether they were any survivors and motion them to nargothrond lands for there own safety.

It now became a matter of three criterical passes , Sirion , Anarch [which had both fallen into shadow] and the far right pass at Aglon [of which the elfves of doriath considered still stood or at least they hoped] in the hands of the sons of Feanor for the moment.

The elfves of Doriath main force, hurried ever northwards to secure the northern forest areas , with possibilities of striking at Ungoliant if she dared make a appearance , gathering ever more forces as it travelled . As the force marched , whilst still within the forest , the elf's sang , of there hopes and fears , motivating them to victory as they travelled ever northward to keep there spirits high.



--------------------------


{Beren , hero & adventurer , Son of Barahir , House of Beor}

Beren , son of Barahir and Emeldir the man-hearted , had seen his lands been torn away from his family , at the hands of morgoth and his minions, with many of his kinsfolk perishing from balrogs or dragons claw or from the countless swarm of orcs and other foul things that had issued out of morgoths lair in the north. The majority of House Beor people had been routed and had fled southeastwards , to lands given to them from elfvish lords, out of respect for there gallant service but still the bitterness of the fighting had soured the man's heart , for in the struggles , his mother had perished.

Barahir, his father before he had departed with the rest of his men , gave his son , the ring that he had been given by the elflord of Nagrothrond which had been gifted for Barahir strength , courage and honour at the great battle of Dagor Bragollach, saving Finrod Felagund's life, earning him and his house the friendship of the House of Finarfin.The ring sparkled in the daylight , as the two emeralds that marked the twin serpents eyes glinted in the days light , before he placed his gloves back on , keeping this mighty gift hidden from view.

Beren still had friends and allies in his vengeance ,as many still wished to fight for there lands in the shadow. There was his cousins Baragund the elder and Belegund the younger,and allies such as Radhruin and Dairuin, Dagnir and Ragnor, Gildor and Gorlim the Unhappy. Other younger fighters still in there late teens , accompanied the band, but all still had hunting skills learned from in there childhood so that Arthad, and Urthel, and Hathaldir the Young made themselves useful.

For the last few weeks , they had been setting out to punish the followers of Morgorth to hurt them as only they could , knowing their own lands best, hidding out in treey vales and dales or using the many caves in the nearby mountains, they struck out in various raids , killing and destroying where they could , and then vanishing back into the lands , disappearing from view.

One such raid, they saw the strength of Morgorths army in a valley below, and the small group moved away , and knew that direct confrontation against the strength that assailed there own lands was impossible but indirect attacks , could hurt in time, so they had set out to do what they could. This day however , they saw long columns of supplies being sent to support the massive army groups of Morgoths strike force, with several of the rear wagons trailing behind the rest , the turbulent orcs arguing between themselfsat getting the ricketiest wagon which would prove a good target. The rest of the supply column was starting to disappear around the mountain bend, the orcs pushed everharder to move their burden to the front. When the majority of the column was out of view and the slower two wagons still trailed behind, when various whistles echo'd from theoverhanging nearby wood that overlooked the broken track.

Eight orcs there were , with there two wagons , carrying foodstuff made up of meat which still dripped blood or ichor [it is better not to know to much about what they carried]from the sides of the wagons as the leader of the orcs held up his hand, lifting his head to the winds as he sniffed at the air.

"Hold it Grimnash! Smelling something funny here?" , the leader queried whilst taking another sniff of the air in confusion.

"Dont bother yourself , none about it! It smells like some of dem weird plantstuff ......but nothing to worry about" , queried another , also taking a smell.

The first orc still not content , but knowing he would be whipped if he delayed his load much longer, shouted out they should continue on, as the orcs took to pushing there loads , down the forest path, towards the army of morgorth had camped ,passing by the small wood on the way to there destination. Five minutes later a flaming arrow hit one of the carts with a resounding whack, as it began to spread its flames over its surface of the cart. The orcs looked on in some shock and surpise, with some of them , drawing there own dark black short blades, looking around for the shooters , when five of orcs, received hits. Three were struck in the torso , one in leg , and another was felled by a shot in the head.

Shuncck! Echoed another round of arrows, fired out from the overhanging woods,hit there targets, striking the orc with the arrow in the leg, in the torso this time, and it collaspsed to the dirt floor of the pass ,its limbs waving about growing weaker and weaker, as it died.

"Take cover! " , shouted one of the orcs and the remained shuffled around with there stooped orcish gaint to the other side of the carts , with one of the carts still with spreading flames on it , as they wondered what they could do.

A few minutes went by , with no more arrows being fired, and the orcs had began to think the ambushers had perhaps fled, as there was no more firing and no more sounds could be hear from the wood. After a few minutes more, the orcs badgered one of the weaker orcs of the three that where left, to climb onto the top of the cart, to see if the ambusher had departed.

The orc lifted his strong arms lifting himself into the cart from the side into the storage area, and slowly rose his head above the sides of the rough cart side , and didnt hear the arrow that suddenly sprouted from his forehead, whilst the other two whispered to him for news unaware the orc had fallen.

A man in rough leather clothing stepped out from one side of the wagon without a sound, with blade drawn , surprising both orcs who drew backwards in fear, with the last orc being taken from behind as they backed away, as another man appeared , knife in hand , his hands grabbing it from the back, before swiftly slitting its throat.

Seeing the writing on the wall , the last orc , charged with his weapon held high in his hands, as the first man , stepped forward blocking the orcs weapon up high with his own , before kicking out with his right leg, forcing the orc to lose his weapon in mid-flight before it landed on its back on the floor, before it was quickly despatched by the other man.

"Another Good day , Beren!" , smiled Gorlim , who wiped his dagger clean on a loose piece of cloth as some of the other outlaws began to set fire to both the carts to finish the attack, "That's two score orcs killed this week , that nobody will miss"

"Aye ..it is ", said Beren his face screwed up in thought as he sheathed his blade , "But there are as many orcs.... as leaves in the forest it seems."

After both carts were alight , he waved for his outlaws to depart before orcs where sent back to check on what had happened, as they were a small band , hit and run attacks were ever the best waves of getting there revenge for the lose of hearth and family.

"Take any weapons of note ...if you see any" {Some of the orcs if they were lucky were using captured elfvish blades recovered from the great battle, but unfortunately here they were not} ..but remember to wipe the forest floor clean of our track and lets retrace our movement back to our camp at Aeluin{Tarn Aeluin}, ...with the last one back , making the soup tonight!"

There where a few murmurs of approval that the outlaws were returning to camp after another few weeks of successful raids, as they were running low of arrows , which would have to made which could take some time , and many required rest from the endless movement they had been conducting.

Several of the men , who had emerged from the woods , waved that they were returning , and the others within earshot/eyesight began to leave, but Beren saw Gorlim hestiate and look to the west, Beren remember the man's pain , from the loss of his village , and the wife, that he had got seperated from and lost in the flight against morgoths armies.

"I might just go hunting , up by my old village for a few nights more ....I still have arrows to use, and am tired of soup, ...let me hunt once more in my old lands , to bring back something better for the lads to eat?", said Gorlim , his eyes still gaving a haunted look, which looked upwards in hope, towards Beren before he looked west again.

Beren sighed and knew that there were otherthings on Gorlim's mind rather than hunting and food, as he ever hoped to see signs of his wife survival, but knew he could'nt make him stay without at least letting him attempt his foolish trip.

"Gorlim , go then with our blessing and hope on your hunt .....bring back something that will revitalise our sinews , to ever wreck pain and suffering on our foes. But remember , stay alert , for this land now is not ours any longer and orcs and fouler things patrol our hunting grounds.......do you want anyone to accompany you on your hunt?", suggested Beren thinking perhaps it would be best for the hunter to have someone to watch his back.

Gorlim grunted at berens query shaking his head ,at his skills being questioned before adjusting his bow on his shoulders , waving his hand in farewell as he moved westwards towards another hill in the distance.

"Go lad , ..I shall return soon enough ....and perhaps I might even have another few orcish scalps to perhaps match your own tally from my journey.", replied Gorlim .

Beren watched the departing struggling man , before realising the heat of the carts was becoming to obvious to watching eyes, as the smoke now travelled skywards in clumping thick black smoke , he shrugged , and moved slightly upto the small overhanging woody forest , looking back at the departing man , before disappearing into the forest to return to the outlaws camp..

Pass of Sirion


The Pass of Sirion was a pass between Ered Wethrin and the Echoriath in the northern Beleriand through which the River Sirion flowed.
The pass served as a main entrance to West Beleriand from Ard-galen.

It was a narrow valley whose sheer walls were covered with pine trees. The ground floor was very fertile.When the Ñoldor returned to Middle-earth, they built the tower/fortress of Minas Tirith to keep the enemy out of the West Beleriand. The pass was guarded by Orodreth of the House of Finarfin for his uncle Finrod who guarded it until FA 457, when it was conquered by Sauron. It remained in Sauron's hands until he was driven out by Lúthien and Huan in the mid-460s. Afterwards its defense was neglected

Pass of Anach


Anach (from an = "long") was a long, narrow pass that ran down out of the highlands of Dorthonion, cutting south-west between the near-impassable mountains of the Crissaegrim and Ered Gorgoroth. Towards its southern end, where it opened into the land of Dimbar, were the springs of the River Mindeb.

In the later years of the First Age, Dorthonion fell under Morgoth's control, and with it the Pass of Anach. His Orcs began to use it as a way down from the highlands, building a road through the valley to reach and harass the lands beyond.Ultimately they succeeded in conquering not only Dimbar, but also the regions to the east that ran along the borders of Doriath.

Pass of Aglon


The Pass of Aglon (or just Aglon), also called the Gorge of Aglon, was the pass between Dorthonion and the uplands west of Himring, to the north-east of Beleriand.
It was about six leagues in length, with the western side bordering the Dorthonion Plateau rising in very high steep walls. It was chilly since a bitter wind continuously blew through the pass from the lands to the north.

Two of the Sons of Fëanor, Celegorm and Curufin, heavily fortified this area, augmented by extra forces in Himlad. About ten leagues to the east, the pair's elder brother Maedhros had built upon the Hill of Himring his stronghold, thus protecting this weak point in the chain of kingdoms created by the Noldor after the Dagor-nuin-Giliath (Battle-under-Stars).


In F.A. 455 during the Dagor Bragollach Orcs broke through Celegorm and Curufin's fortifications, leaving Maedhros' stronghold the centre for re-grouping of Fëanor's sons. They later took back the Pass.However, after Nirnaeth Arnoediad in 472 the Sons of Fëanor were scattered, the Pass of Aglon fell under Morgoth's domination, and it was garrisoned by Orcs. The Pass was never recovered, along with all of the land of northern Beleriand.

Emeldir the Manhearted
Emeldir, also known as Emeldir the Manhearted, was an Edain woman of the House of Bëor. She was the daughter of Beren who was the son of Belemir of the House of Bëor and Adanel of the House of Marach. She had two unnamed elder siblings, making her the third child of Beren (son of Belemir).

Emeldir was the wife of Barahir who was also of the House of Bëor through the line of Baran, the eldest son of Bëor the Old. Emeldir then bore Barahir only one child and son who was none other than the renowned Beren Erchamion also known as Beren the One-handed. Thus, naming her son after her father Beren, Belemir's son.

After the conquest of Dorthonion by the forces of Morgoth, and then after the ruin of the Dagor Bragollach, Emeldir's husband Barahir and her son Beren stayed behind in Dorthonion forming a band of outlaws. Emeldir however would have preferred to fight with her husband and son to the death. Instead, she was charged to lead the women and children of Bëor's folk who had to flee for their lives from their homes after the Dagor Bragollach for their land was now taken and ruled by Sauron, Morgoth's commander. Eventually, after many hardships on their journey, Emeldir was successful in bringing them safely to Brethil where the Haladin who were also the Edain dwelt. It was because of doing all this that she gained the title Man-hearted.

Her only grandchild and grandson was the Half-elven Dior Eluchil who later became the King of Doriath, and her great-grandchildren were Eluréd with his twin-brother Elurín, and their younger sister Elwing.

The Ring of Barahir


The Ring of Barahir was an ornate silver ring given to Barahir by the Elven King Finrod Felagund, in reward for saving his life in Dagor Bragollach. It was a sign of eternal friendship between Finrod and the House of Barahir and it became an heirloom of his kin.

The ring was described as the likeness of two serpents intertwined with eyes made of green jewels. This was the symbol of the House of Finarfin. The serpents met beneath a crown of golden flowers that one upheld and one devoured. The jewels at least were crafted in Valinor and sometimes seemed to burn with green fire.

(…)green jewels gleamed there that the Ñoldor had devised in Valinor. For this ring was like to twin serpents, whose eyes were emeralds, and their heads met beneath a crown of golden flowers, that the one upheld and the other devoured; that was the badge of Finarfin and his house.” (Silmarillion)


Tolkien described the ring in verse in the Lay of Leithian:
"Proud are the words, and all there turned
to see the jewels green that burned
in Beren’s ring. These Gnomes had set
as eyes of serpents twined that met
beneath a golden crown of flowers,
that one upholds and one devours:
the badge that Finrod made of yore
and Felagund his son now bore."

" There King Finrod Felagund, hastening from the south, was cut off from his people and surrounded with small company in the Fen of Serech; and he would have been slain or taken, but Barahir came up with the bravest of his men and rescued him, and made a wall of spears about him; and they cut their way out of the battle with great loss. Thus Felagund escaped, and returned to his deep fortress of Nargothrond; but he swore an oath of abiding friendship and aid en every need to Barahir and all his kin, and in token of his vow he gave to Barahir his ring."
—The Silmarillion, Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin.

Barahir's hand and ring were taken by the orcs that killed him, but were retrieved by his son Beren when he avenged his father. Beren laid the hand to rest with his father's remains, but kept and wore the ring.Beren used the ring to prove his lineage to Thingol when he first entered Doriath and again when he sought Finrod's help in the quest for the Silmaril.

The ring was passed from Beren in direct line to Dior, then his daughter Elwing and her son Elros, who brought it to Númenor during the Second Age. It was an heirloom of the kings of Númenor until Tar-Elendil gave the ring to his eldest daughter Silmariën, who was not allowed to succeed him on the throne. She in turn gave the ring to her son Valandil, first Lord of Andúnië. It was handed down to succeeding Lords of Andúnië to the last one, Elendil.

In the Third Age the ring was again passed in direct line from Elendil, to Isildur, to the Kings of Arnor, and then Kings of Arthedain. The last King of Arthedain, Arvedui, gave the ring to the Lossoth of Forochel; thankful for the help he received from them. It was later ransomed from the Snowmen by the Dúnedain of the North, after which it was kept safe at Rivendell.



Eventually, it was given by Elrond to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, when he was told of his true name and lineage, together with the shards of Narsil. In the year 2980 of the Third Age, in Lórien Aragorn gave the ring to Arwen Undómiel, and thus they were betrothed.

Nothing is said of the fate of the ring in the Fourth Age, but it was most likely either again passed to the Kings of Gondor and Arnor, descendants of Aragorn and Arwen, or it went with Arwen to her grave in Cerin Amroth.

While the Ring of Barahir posseses no known magic or power, it is notable as one of the oldest crafted object in Middle Earth. Lasting through the War of the Ring but having been crafted during the First Age, the Ring of Barahir is thousands of years older than any of the Rings of Power. The Palantíri however, are cited by Gandalf as being forged possibly by Fëanor, which would place their origin in the Age of the Trees.

Tarn Aeluin


Aeluin means "Blue Lake" in Sindarin and Tarn is an archaic English word meaning "mountain lake".
Aeluin, sometimes referred to as Tarn Aeluin, was a clear blue mountain lake in the eastern highlands of Dorthonion, southwest of Ladros. It was situated among wild heather hills, themselves surrounded by trackless and uninhabited forests and highland plains of heather.

The lake was said to have been hallowed by Melian the Maia but Barahir's Outlaw Band hid from Morgoth's forces after the Dagor Bragollach and made their lair at Aeluin. There they remained hidden until betrayed by Gorlim.



{For the purpose of RP , I have made Barahir leave - as I assume he still lives with his army units , and in the book his wife flees with the others away from the battles, and so passes into history...I have killed her off in this version , as It would need some motifivating factor for Beren to stay and fight for his land if in this version , his father still leaves and fights in the south.}

Beren



Beren is glossed as "bold" in Noldorin of the Etymologies.
His epithet Erchamion means "one-handed". It has been suggested that Camlost means "empty-handed".

Beren was one of the Edain (men), the son of Barahir and Emeldir the man-hearted. He was a man of the royal House of Bëor of Dorthonion, and the most accomplished hero and adventurer of the First Age. The battle of the Dagor Bragollach befell during his youth, bringing about the ruin of his kingdom. The young Beren lived with his father and eleven loyal followers in the highlands of Dorthonion, and the thirteen of them performed many acts of bravery, to the great frustration of Morgoth, the Dark Lord of Angband. After the ruin of the Outlaws of Dorthonion and the death of his father, Beren lived alone in Dorthonion off the land and came to know the many birds and beasts that lived there, and they helped him when he needed it. During this time, he hunted nothing and ate no meat and only killed the creatures of Morgoth that roamed the country. He learned not to fear death only captivity and bondage; however, things began to grow more difficult for him in Dorthonion for Morgoth put an even greater price on his head and he was forced from the land of his birth by Sauron and Draugluin.


turn to Falathrim
https://www.dropbox.com/s/xn816w7pr8...rim_7.sav?dl=0

[Arrow2daknee]

Here is the save, https://drive.google.com/open?id=1g4...T__IBCc-S1_DZj

The men of Brethil were continuing their march north when they spotted a great amount of smoke strewn across the northern sky. Haldir was at the front of the column, he turned to one of his officers and said,

"The battle has already begun, hasten the men's pace!"

"Aye sir," the officer replied and sent the order along the column.

Then the men marched with great vigor towards the darkened sky desiring to enter into the fray, however their hopes were dashed when they spotted streams of Elves and Men fleeing southwards in various states of organization. Haldir and Hunthor rode up to a group of men who were from Dor Lomin and greeted their leader.

"Hail to thee, brother!" Prince Haldir said, "I am Prince Haldir from the house of Haleth, and this is my lieutenant, Hunthor the Fearless of the House of Haleth, how does the battle fare?"

"Greetings, it is good to see you kinsman, I am Hurin of the house of Hador," He spoke with much exhaustion, "The battle does not fare well, we are scattered, the forces of Morgoth were stronger than we expected, we fought well but the orcs are innumerable and the great Balrogs are unstoppable, most of the Men withdrew south with me in some order but the Elves routed in all directions, and the last time I looked back and got a glimpse of the battlefield I saw Angrod and Aegnor with what was left of their forces retreating to their hilltop fortress, completely surrounded," Anguish took his face, "They refused to abandon their posts even after hope had left the hearts of the rest of us."

"Then we must save them!" Hunthor exclaimed.

"Nay," Hurin said, "It is folly, you will not reach them by sunset, and even if you could you would be swiftly defeated, for if a mighty army of the Eldar could not stop them, then your lot surely cannot."

"Hurin is right" Haldir said, "Hunthor, go ride back to the men and tell them to reverse the march, Morgoth has won this day, and we have been sundered from the Elves of Fingolfin, our strongest ally, we must survive to fight another day, and we may yet hold the Pass."

Hunthor heeded the order and left, and then Haldir gave an offer to Hurin "You may retreat south with us, we will need more warriors in the times ahead, I am afraid there is no easy way home for you now."

[Adanedhel]

Meanwhile somewhere in the wastes of Anfauglith...

High King of the Noldor in exile, Fingolfin, was riding north and with every stride was getting closer to the land of shadow. After the defeat in the great battle of Dagor Bragollach, seeing his own people cruelly hewn by orcs, disemboweled by trolls, trampled to death by Balrogs, pain and agony all around him, and foreseeing a new age of darkness to come henceforth, he couldn’t bear it any longer. He decided to take matters into his own hands and challenge Morgoth himself, the Black Enemy, to combat. Riding madly to the gates of his enemy, on his great horse Rochallor, he did not stop to contemplate whether this was an act of heroism and a sense of duty to his people or folly and despair. He thought only of ending this heinous, abominable being and bringing peace to the world. How he would accomplish this he did not rightly know, but nevertheless, he would attempt it.

Fingolfin rode on. He passed by many enemies along the way, but such wrath was in his eyes that none dared to hinder him, thinking that Orome himself had come. The great heights of Thangorodrim loomed before him. Fingolfin descried the gates of Angband and made for them. Slowing the pace of his horse to a walk, he entered through.

He found himself in a great flat courtyard. To his left and right various huts and houses were standing, on their walls and fabric he saw hideous paintings of ghastly faces, dark-red stains what seemed to be blood, and other bone chilling depictions of death and decay. Between the buildings and along the roads leading in different directions from the courtyard, stood iron pillars and hanging from them the king saw cages holding skeletons of people, rotting skin still clinging to parts of the bones. Underneath the cages he noticed black feathers, probably belonging to crows. Here and there dark pits opened in the ground with immeasurable depths leading Aule knows where.

Fingolfin only just arrived and after a short glance he already was sick of this place. He noticed a great road, much greater than the others, leading around a huge, bulging mass of rock. He turned his horse that way quickening his pace. After turning the corner he saw it – the main entrance to the underground fortress of Angband. So far no one challenged the king. A brooding silence was all around, filling him with dread. This, however, did not dissuade him. He was as resolute as in the beginning of this journey.

Fingolfin jumped off his horse and walked up to the iron door. He unsheathed his sword Ringil and with its pommel hit the door three times shouting, “Morgoth! Come out!” There was a long silence. Fingolfin took out his horn and blew it so loud that the surrounding rocks started to tremble. “Morgoth! Come out you craven and lord of slaves!” the king cried out. Another silence fell.

Suddenly, the king felt the ground shake underneath him, in the rhythm of footsteps. Morgoth finally arouse from his throne accepting the challenge. He was unwilling to fight at first, and even though his might was unmatched in the world, he alone of all the Valar knew fear. Yet he could not refuse the challenge in front of all his captains and allow anyone to call him craven.

Morgoth slowly made his way from his underground lair. He finally issued out of the great gates towering like a mountain over Fingolfin. He was clad in black armor from feet to head. In his hands he wielded Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld.

Fingolfin, though a small figure in comparison, stood unmoved, undaunted, like a shining star in the midst of a dark cloud, holding his sword Ringil that glittered like ice. He suddenly remembered the dream he once had. Was this to be the prophetic fulfillment of what he dreamt?

So the duel began. Morgoth raised the hammer Grond and swung it down upon Fingolfin, but the nimble elf darted aside just in time before it crushed the ground like thunder, making a giant fissure appear. Fingolfin used this opening to strike at the Valar stinging him with Ringil. Morgoth screamed in pain, but lifted up Grond to strike again. The hammer fell upon Fingolfin seven times and seven times the king escaped its blow stabbing the Valar in return. And each time a great hole was made where Grond fell, making it difficult for the elf to move around.

Finally, after the seventh time the hammer struck the earth and being weary of the fight, Fingolfin stumbled and fell backwards into one of the fissures. Morgoth let out a great laugh and with his left foot, like the weight of a hill, pinned the king to the ground. Seeing that his death approached, Fingolfin with a final strike pushed Ringil deep into the foot of Morgoth and black blood gushed out of the wound. The Dark Lord screamed in agony, but crushed the elf’s neck in that very moment. Thus died Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, most proud and valiant of the Elven-kings of old, and his spirit soon after returned to Valinor, to the halls of Mandos.

Even though Fingolfin lost, his valiant efforts weren’t totally in vain, as Morgoth would forever after bear the pains of this fight and be maimed in his left foot. The Dark Lord now picked up the king’s body and was about to throw it to his wolves to be devoured by them, but he was unexpectedly stopped by Thorondor, the King of the Eagles, who flew down from afar, from his high eyries in Crissaegrim, and rescued Fingolfin’s body scarring the Dark Lord’s face with his talons. The eagle then flew away and set down the body upon one of the mountain tops encircling the hidden valley of Tumladen, where it would forever after remain.

[PeaMan]

Word had reached Gondolin of the defeat of the elves and men who were beaten back and routed by the dreaded Balrogs commanding legions of fearsome orcs and a fear gripped the kingdom at the pending doom and falling into the hands of the nameless one so they strengthen the mountains and train new warriors to fill the empty barracks. Further word arrived from the north that in a rage the high king of the noldor storms out of his stronghold and marched north to challenge the dark lord to single combat..

Meanwhile in the south King Turgon continues his march but is halted on the road by ungoliant and her hoard of minions.. The elven king orders the eldar under his command to lay siege to the village where the spawns of evil now nested spoiling the land..

While in his tent a messenger arrives for king Turgon with news of the defeat in the north and rumours that his father had fallen against Morgoth.. The king wept when he heard of his fathers death asking what of his corpse to which the messenger relied that Thorondor had been gone for days and has yet to return but was last sighted in the far north hurrying south with all haste..

Nargothrond up -https://www.mediafire.com/file/464wjiewjha0mj6/QS_Nargothrong_7.sav/file

[Turkafinwë]

Nargothrond and the House of Bëor

The loss of the Dagor Bragollach was a bitter drop to swallow for all the Eldar and no less for the brothers of Finrod. Having fled back to their stronghold of Gobel Rivil, the Elves of Nargothrond prepared for their last stand. Finrod had attempted to rush north with reinforcements but had been waylaid by an Orcish band who had diverted from the main army. Only through the intervention of Barahir of the House of Bëor and his men did the king escape an untimely demise, earning him and his house the eternal friendship of Finrod. As a token of this friendship Finrod gave Barahir his ring which he afterwards gave to his son Beren. With Finrod routed back south, Angrod and Aegnor stood alone in their last defiance against the Dark Lord. Lurking outside the walls of the Elven stronghold were endless numbers of maddened Orcs and legions of Balrogs waiting to feast on Eldar flesh. How the other Houses fared after their defeat, Angrod did not know but hoped they had regrouped at the grand fortress of Barad Eithel. From Fingolfin's stronghold in Ered Mithrim they could long hold out against the forces of Darkness. For himself and his people he held no grand illusions of survival. They would soon all go to the Halls of Mandos and receive his judgement.

Though the situation was hopeless, the Elves of Nargothrond were fanatic in their defiance and would stain the ground with the enemies their blood.

Nargothrond elves battle the Orcs

Further east, the last of Dorthonion had fallen with the pass of Anach coming into the dragon's hands. Belegund was now a chieftain of a broken people, the women and children fled to the other realms of the Edain or Eldar and the men either killed or forced into banditry. Belegund traveled with his cousin Beren and stayed with him at their lair at Tarn Aeluin for a time, hunting orc parties, but soon he grew restless, grief-stricken by the fate of his House and people. Many of his people still lingered in this land lamenting their loss and still with fire in their hearts. Belegund gathered all of his people willing to join him on what would be a suicide mission. Not wanting to go down like a beggar in his own lands he set out to recover the important pass of Anach. Come what may, the House of Bëor would defy the Dark Lord until their last breath.

Lore

Halls of Mandos

The Halls of Mandos or Halls of Awaiting is a place in northern Valinor, overlooking the Encircling Sea. It is here where Mandos, the Doomsman of the Vala lived and where the souls of Elves and Men go when they die. Here both would await their different fates. Elves would be able to be re-embodied and return to Aman (the continent west of Middle-Earth of which Valinor is a part) to be with their kin again after residing in the Halls for the amount they were sentenced to by Mandos. The fate of Man however was unknown to the Valar save Mandos and Manwë. It is said the Halls grow ever larger as the world ages and on its walls hang tapestries depicting all happenings of unfolding history, crafted by Mandos' wife Vairë. It is also said that none, not even Melkor mightiest of the Valar, could leave the Halls without Mandos' permission.

The Halls of Mandos

Mandos is well known for his proclamations of Doom. The first doom he proclaimed was when the age of the Children of Illúvatar aproached it was the doom of the Elves to be born under the starlit sky and that they would revere Varda above all other Vala. A more prominent moment as the Doomsman of the Valar for Mandos was, when the peace was shattered between the sons of Finwë, he was to Judge Fëanor for his actions, drawing his sword on Fingolfin. Even though Fëanor was poisoned by Melkor's lies, Mandos would not let Fëanor go unpunished for the Elf had grown haughty and arrogant. Mandos decreed that Fëanor was to be banished from the city of Tirion (the capital of the Noldorin in Valinor) for a period of twelve years and would only be allowed to return if Fingolfin would release him from his debt.

Most important in the Silmarillion is the Doom of Mandos, or the Doom of the Noldor, the Curse of Mandos or even know as the Prophecy of the North. This Doom was proclaimed, by Mandos in name of the Valar, after the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, damning all the Noldor who had participated in this despicable event, warning them of the woe that would await them if they would not repent and refrain from their rebellion against the Valar. The Doom of Mandos goes as follows:

"Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.

Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and shall find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in Middle-Earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken."

Many quaked after this but none repented save Finarfin and his people, though all his children did go back to Middle-Earth. Finarfin and the repenting Noldor returned to the hill Túna where they asked and received a pardon from the Valar. Finarfin was crowned High King of the Noldor in Aman and still rules there until this day.

A lovely song about the Doom of the Noldor; the artwork is Luthien dancing and singing in front of Morgoth in his fortress of Angband

Khazâd Belegost: http://www.mediafire.com/file/fp2q8l...ost_7.sav/file

[JCdestr0yer]

sorry for the delay rp later https://www.mediafire.com/file/6bnef5lzk254vhc/QS_Laegrim_7.sav/file

[joerock22]

High Chieftain Guorwe had to resist the strong urge to journey to see his son at Lanthir Lamas. But for now, the knowledge that Nurwe had returned safely to the elven town would have to sustain him. Despite the short period of relative peace since the Laegrim’s successful yet costly sortie into enemy territory, the front was a hive of activity. News had just arrived of the enemy’s siege of Amon Ereb, held by the House of Ulfang. The human inhabitants of that house were not the Laegrim’s allies, but nor were they enemies. Guorwe had been perfectly satisfied when the humans took Amon Ereb many moons ago. Now it seemed as though the citadel would fall to the wolves and bats, becoming a dark ruin.

He sincerely wished that he could relieve the siege. But the enemy had struck swiftly, catching the Laegrim by surprise. Guorwe was also sure his preoccupation with his son’s plight and the battered state of his forces had contributed to the failure as well. As a result, there was no possibility of his infantry arriving before the creatures of the night stormed the walls. Sighing heavily, he completed a brief conciliatory note and sent it off to the House of Ulfang.

Next time we will be better prepared, he vowed.

Morgoth:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1O8d...ew?usp=sharing