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assguardians2019-05-15 10:03 am
asgardmods) wrote in assguardians2019-05-15 10:03 am
Entry tags:
ASGARD GENESIS - TEST DRIVE #1
  ❧ let's do this.
❧ optional scenario. As you enter Asgard proper, many of the natives have gathered into curious crowds to greet these mysterious children of the World Tree. Some of them carry baskets of flowers and nervously offer one to any Wanderers that come near. They are vibrant and colorful, picked from the wilds surrounding Asgard, and they might have an odd effect on your character if they sniff the flowers directly. Purple flowers will make your character very giggly and easily amused by everything they see and hear. Orange flowers will make your character feel very warm all over, like the sun is beating down on them directly. Blue flowers will make your character somewhat short and impatient with anything that seems like even a minor inconvenience to them. Effects of the flowers can wear off anywhere between a few minutes to an hour. And for those new to Asgard, this scenario aligns with some of the general curses we might have in the game!  navigation. |
Re: B Flower
"I'm alive?" He responds, a trace indignant even as he rushes to his brother's side.
"I'm not the one who tried disappearing off the face of the earth! Do you know how many goats it takes to bribe the Eagles to give me any news? Where have you been?"
Re: B Flower
Turgon all but falls over himself to fling his arms around his brother and weep.
"You... I saw your banners fall... I couldn't reach you!"
What he said percolates and Turgon pulls back a little, blinking through tears. "But... I retreated to Gondolin, of course. You... what?"
Re: B Flower
"What are you talking about? I'm fine. Better off than most," he says, and if that's not precisely true at the moment (being kidnapped stinks, even if your kidnappers seem apologetic) he's certainly managing better than-
Well. Angrod. Aegnor. Finrod. Father. It's a long list.
"It's been over three hundred years, Turno. Do you know how much I've worried about you?"
Re: B Flower
Turgon shakes his head, confused.
"I... The... the battle was only some fourty years past! You saw me there... I know you we're expecting us but..."
Re: B Flower
"Turno, we haven't been on the same battlefield since Dagor Aglareb. Are you feeling all right?"
Re: B Flower
Faintly, "I am feeling rather feverish. But Finno, I ... I watched as Gothmog bore you to the ground. The Nirnaeth Arnodied was less than fourty years ago!"
Re: B Flower
Not that it means anything good- if anything a chill goes through his spine at the words. Tears Unnumbered shall ye shed..... He remembers the Doom. No one who was there doesn't.
And Gothmog... well, he knows that name, but none of the Balrogs have been seen since the Bragollach. He knows; the scouts have been watching from both West and East, particularly since Sauron's little setback at Tol Sirion.
"I'm fine, I promise. And people have been trying to kill me for years, they've not succeeded yet."
Maybe not the right thing to tell his worrywort of a younger brother, but perfectly true as things stood.
Re: B Flower
"Our defeat." He clings to his brother, desperation in every line of him.
"I... I had to retreat. There were too many. Gothmog... he laughed. Glorfindel said... I was the High King, and they had to get me out. We didn't even see the Feanorian banners. I don't know if they even made it there at all."
Re: B Flower
What on earth is one supposed to say to that? Nothing Fingon is hearing makes mulch sense- not this battle, not what his brother is saying... unless Turgon had developed foresight late in life, maybe, and was just a bit confused?
It doesn’t matter; Fingon can figure it out later. He shakes his head sharply, and reassured his brother. “Don’t worry about things, I’m here now. And I promise I’m not going away.”
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"I won't let anything hurt you."
Again.
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But he does know that look in his brother's eye- Turgon won't be talked out of anything in this particular mood.
"All right," he allows, "but only if I'm allowed to look after you as well."
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"Although if we both are here... this doesn't look like Mandos..."
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"Did you feel a Call of any sort?"
Because he's not entirely sure, but one would think Mandos's summons would be fairly distinctive.
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Also Art... must remember to call her Galadriel now - is here, and he feels he should be trying to set a good example?
No, it's all about impressing his big brother"Not I. You? Ondolindë's walls still stand, and there has been no alarm from the gates, unless my memory is severely compromised..."
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And since when has Arte, of all people, followed an example she wasn't already inclined to in the first place?
"No. I just came back from a patrol- nothing terribly serious, so far as I saw. There have been worse."
That doesn't rule out assassination attempts, of which there have been one or two since their father's death, but frankly Fingon doesn't think his brother needs the sort of anxiety that news would provoke.
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Turgon rubs at his forehead with a sigh. "Oh, wonderful. So we're looking at... what? Either I am delusional, you are delusional, we are both confused and this is the Halls and they just look weird, or ... there is something very strange going on with time. Which, incidentally, makes the This Is Actually The Halls theory look more promising."
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There had to be a better word than that. He might really be looking at death as an option if he tried using that in front of a loremaster.
"I think," he says, trying to carefully think through his answer, "that had we died Namo might be about to say 'I told you so.' Or that his Maiar would be doing it for him- and the only ones here seem to have no idea what is going on."
There's also the distinct possibility that a number of dead Teleri would be about and jeering if Fingon had died, but he's not sure if he wants to remind his brother of that right now.
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"True. I am rather surprised by the lack of yelling, if this is Mandos, this is true. But Finno... I very definitely saw you die." The alternative is that they took him alive, and that idea Turgon can't even bear to think about.
"So... if you don't remember that then... are we truly looking at something in this place manipulating time?"
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"Turno. I've been a soldier for four hundred years- I have always known that I could die. As I am not, at the moment...."
He trails off. He has never been good at consoling people over deaths; he has no idea what to do with the death in question is his own.
"I don't know. But if we keep looking about this place, perhaps we'll find out."
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He nods. "I suppose so. I was thinking about seeking the library. Perhaps there will be information there. Tis not as if our ... kidnappers? Hosts? Seem to have much idea of what is going on either."
He pulls at his collar again and then sighs and moves to yank off his overrobe.
"And why is it so damnably hot?"
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That is not how this works, but obviously that's immaterial compared to calming down his fussy younger sibling.
"Perhaps..." although Fingon isn't too optimistic on that front. "But unless the library's volumes appears out of thin air, someone wrote those books. And someone chose them. And if the most obvious candidates are our hosts....
He doesn't want to let you down, Turno. But you should be prepared for disappointment.
And maybe some funny looks. Like the one Fingon is wearing now.
"What are you talking about?"
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He nods, agreeing. "While true, I can't think of anywhere else to look so..."
He blinks, still tugging at his collar.
"Are you not hot? It has been getting hotter and hotter... I do not know why...."
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All right, Turno, if that's what you want... "I'm going to look around more, then. Maybe we can cover two ways of information-gathering between us."
He watches in concern- he doesn't feel any differently himself, but if Turgon thinks otherwise that can't be good. "I feel nothing- this is barely the temperature of a spring day in Hithlum."
And then a thought occurs to him- all their bodies are wrong, are they not? Too dull, too heavy... almost Mannish. And when Men complained of sudden heat, that never meant anything good. "Turno, are you feeling all right otherwise?"
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"You can keep it, thanks."
He nods. "That would probably be good." He gives in and shrugs off his outer robe.
"I... well I'm just... really hot?"
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It still isn't hot, to Fingon's mind, and he can't help looking at his brother in concern. "That's it? Are you sure?"
Valar, what had Finrod said Men did when they suspected others were ill? Why hadn't he paid any attention?
"And how many layers are you planning to strip off?"
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G A S P
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