The Ice Cave of Forochel, Resting Place of Karasu

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Erkai had been killed by Morsereg's own hands, and it had in turn split his soul into two. The part that had stayed in his original body, still known to all as Morsereg, rode at the front of a host of 1,000 Orcs, Alucard, and Dwar. Alucard and Dwar rode atop Wargs, and carried together a coffin, which held the sleeping body of the other half of his soul, known know to the residents of Angmar as Karasu. They made their way to the Ice Bay of Forochel, with the intent of hiding Karasu.

They reached the chilling bay, and Morsereg slid off of his warg, as calm as ever. He motioned for the group to follow them, and in unison, they all jumped in. The orcs swam at the front, scouting out the way to an underwater Ice Cave. Morsereg swam with Dwar and Alucard, helping them hold onto Karasu's coffin. They reached an ice cave moments later, and surfaced slowly. Morsereg followed Alucard and Dwar as they made their way to a central chamber.

Dwar's hold began to slip, being barely anything more but a skeleton, and Morsereg only barked to him, "Watch it! That's holding something precious!" He growled and took the coffin from Dwar, continuing to the central chamber. They put the coffin down, and Morsereg began to mutter. Ice suddenly formed from the ground, encasing the coffin like a thick shield. The orcs began putting up extra defenses, as Alucard and Dwar followed Morsereg to talk, in single-file behind him.

"You two, I'm sorry..." Morsereg spoke, smirking inwardly as he whirled around. "But here it comes to an end for the both of you...." He withdrew from his sheath his Morgul Blade, and drove it forward, impaling both Alucard and Dwar. The two gasped in horror as their own master took their unlives, and they fell from the blade to a pile on the ground. Morsereg sheathed his sword, and withdrew from his robe a Ceremonial Dagger.

He began to cut into his skin, letting the blood flow freely onto the bodies of Alucard and Dwar, and the bodies quickly absorbed the magical presence from Morsereg. Morsereg smirked, and let out a shrill cry as he collapsed to his knees in pain. It felt like his head was going to split in two, but he laughed throughout it. He had truly been driven to insanity, at this point...

Breaking from the skin on his back emerged two devilish black wings, courtesy of Alucard, while Morsereg's arms began to lose their skin, it slowly peeling off until Morsereg's arms were naught but the bones that shaped them. He had absorbed the powers that Alucard and Dwar had once used in his service, and loved the feeling it gave him.

He then went to work, creating a new species of evil creature, and was at it for atleast a month. This new creature was called the Andromalius, and featured only the best from each evil species. They were horrible looking creatures, and looked simply like shadows. They were pure black, and had piercing red eyes. They did not look like much, being about as tall as the tallest of the race of men were, but were quite the powerhouses.

They had the speed of Wargs, and the strength of Trolls. The persistancy of Orcs, the loyalty of the Wights and the invulnerabilites of the Spectres. But, most of all, the wings of a vampire and the claws of a werewolf. Of these Andromalius, only 6,000 were made, and they never left the Ice Cave, for they were there only to guard the sleeping Karasu, until his time came.

[Karasu Immolo]

There stood Morsereg, looking into the cold eyes of Mandos, a scar visible on his neck from where Aragorn had dealt the fatal stroke. He growled at the Vala, and was in turn struck to the ground by an unseen force. He slowly began to regain his footing, only to be knocked down again.

"What about your little promise to me, that I would not be killed in battle?" Morsereg growled, slowly edging to his feet again.

"I said you would never be killed by your opponent in battle. You were killed by a blow meant for your victim..." Mandos simply waved his hand, knocking Morsereg to the ground again.

"Morsereg, stay down. You may have been one of the most powerful creatures on Middle-Earth, but you are nothing compared to a Vala. Just stay down," Mandos ordered, his steely gaze fixing upon his emissary upon the ground, his hair tossed about, skeletal hands gripping into fists. "You are sentenced to eternity, simply watching Middle-Earth. You can do no more harm to Arda..."

Morsereg hissed, and suddenly his mind flared with an urge to overthrow the Vala. He quickly stood and lunged at Mandos, only for the sheer power of the Vala to rip off one of his mighty black wings, leaving him with a single wing. The blast also knocked him back, and he grunted as he stood up yet again. "So mote it be, my Master," He spoke mockingly, glaring to the Vala. "But you have not erased my entire existance from Middle-Earth," And thus he, who would be known for ages to come, with the names Bragolamarth, Morsereg Dindaedel, the Black Istari, and the Doomsman of the Valar, gained yet another name. The One-Winged Angel left the halls of Mandos, and began to gaze over Middle-Earth, and he muttered only one thing.

"Wake up, Karasu."

Karasu's eyes jerked open, to reveal only pure black. He felt a sudden chill overtake his body, and was suddenly quite apparant where he had been hidden. Deep underneath the Bay of Forochel. He rose his thin arms up to the lid, and tried sliding it. It wouldn't budge...

"Great...the fool SEALED me in ice too..." He growled at the incompetence of his predecessor. "How am I going to get out of here? Alucard! ALUCARD!" He shouted, oblivious to the fact that no sound would escape the ice, and oblivious to the fact that Alucard had been killed by Morsereg.

[Envin]

Through long toil and through many a trial, Aragorn had come north from Minas Tirith. He had first gone to Angmar, and through much inquiry learned that Morsereg was oft wont to journey to Forochel, though in pursuit of what no one knew. So, armed with only these feeble tales, Aragorn set his sights to the northwest, and afoot traveled the distance to the frozen wastes of the north of Middle-earth. The way was not pleasant, and was replete with dangers, but at long last he made his way to the environs of the Ice-Bay, where tales still told a settlement lay. There was a great blizzard that rose in wroth, and even in the noon of the day the sun was hidden, and blindly he stumbled through the wastes.

As the even neared he saw distantly through the blowing snow buildings afar off, and made for them with all haste and dispatch. When he arrived in what proved to be the village he sought, the Ice-Men were first quite reserved with him, but when as token he brought forward the Ring of Barahir, as though by magic he was revered as near godlike. Directly he was brought to the King, who was learned enough to speak in the Common Tongue with Aragorn. The King of Gondor was guest to the King of Ice that evening, and dined at his table with him, upon such fare as was best to be had: much bear, tough with the cold, and fruits picked early against the winter winds, though the water was clear and more refeshing than aught Aragorn had drunk in these many days.

From the Lossoth Aragorn learned that often their scouts had seen a dark shape pass over over the frozen surface of the bay, disappearing at whiles and returning past their village, and it was not uncommon for children to never be seen again after the passage of the shadow. For this they named it Running Death, for ever did it move swiftly, though never did it move with the winds. None had ever ventured to test their courage in pursuing the Running Death once it had disappeared, but many of the more hardy among them had marked the spot where it had vanished, and upon the morrow they would take Aragorn thither.

In the early dawn they set out, and ere noon had crossed ten leagues over the ice in the dead of winter - the Lossoth were a hardy folk, but they found little to complain of in Aragorn's stamina. He kept right upon their heels the whole of the way. They crested a ridge of a frozen wave, and pointed Aragorn ahead, trembling to follow. He smiled and allowed them to return, with thanks in plenty. Then he turned his attention ahead. His keen Ranger eyes saw but little extraordinary about this place, but the years he had spent with Mithrandir had not left him naïve. The marks of a wizard were plain as plain in this region, and obvious it was that magic had been done hereabouts.

So he followed the traces, and ere long he came to a place where an outcropping of sheer ice was seen, with the symbol of Angmar carved into the side of it. Aragorn could not believe his good fortune, but was soon puzzled. No opening mechanism of any sort was apparent, and no fool would have made the entrance as simple to open as a hack from a sword; Aragorn feared for Anduril's blade upon Morsereg's ice. But then he studied the sigil of Angmar much more closely, and upon its surface were spatters of red; about its usual crest there were words engraved:

tápeas serke, páleas serke

Then Aragorn smiled and he understood. For only Morsereg, weighing matters only in terms of pain and the gain and loss of the whole, would have set his door to open in such a wise, requiring a physical loss from an adversary. He took from his belt his Elven knife, and with a shallow cut upon his arm he sprayed five drops of blood onto the crest. These shone for a moment in the noontide sun, then seemed to shrink and melt into the ice. Then a great washing and a running was heard, and from the sheer face of the ice there melted an opening, a door man-high, and Aragorn stood before the arch and glanced about at the sun. He drew Anduril, and drew a breath as well, and stepped inside. The door froze shut behind him.

[Alucard]

It was all black. Alucard could neither move, see, hear, think, or speak. Then he saw it, the downfall of Morsereg. The shard of his own Morgul Blade being driven through his neck. His foreshadowing of the awakening of Karasu. Then he felt a sudden jolt rush through his body all at once.

His eyes jerked open, and he looked to where he was. He was staring above, to the "roof" of the icey cavern, and smelt something...fresh blood on the seal. He almost shot up, looking to Dwar, who to was awakening. The wounds they both had received slowly closed up, and they nodded, perfectly understanding. Their master had not used them only to gain power, but so that in the case that he did fall, or someone entered the Cave, someone would be there to aid the Andromalius in protecting Karasu.

"Dwar..." Alucard began, hissing, "Go rally the Andromalius, get them to guard every area possible of the cavern. We have a new visitor." His wings stretched themselves, spanning a good length of two men abreast each side. "Now."

Dwar nodded, and the Barrow-Wight was soon lost into the cavern, rounding up the Andromalius. Within a matter of moments, shadows began to overtake the cavern. The Andromalius were ready.

Alucard turned on his heels, and made his way to the sleeping place of Karasu, where Dwar stood watch. Alucard approached him, and smirked, showing a single fang, "Go to the front lines, before even the Andromalius. You'll be able to weaken this fool, possibly kill him. If he escapes you, then the Andromalius will kill him. We need not both guard the Horcrux."

[Envin]

Aragorn walked slowly down the passage, slippery walls upon either side of him, choosing his footing carefully, for he knew not what lay ahead of him. He had struck steel and flint onto tinder and now had a small torch held aloft afore him, but even so the going was gingerly done at best. Anduril was stretched out ahead of him to greet aught that awaited his coming, and with his skill borne of the Dunedain his footfalls made but little noise upon the glossy, glasslike ice.

The air grew chill, chill even for the north, as further he descended into the tunnel, and darker and darker it grew. But he did not blench, the proud child of Silmarien that strode into the frozen bowels of the earth this day, and taking his strength from Elendil before him he tightened his grip upon his good sword that shone pale in the light of the torch, and he lessened his stride not at all.

Soon the air grew less dense, and sooner still he came into a wide cavern, but a small one, smaller than he had expected. By the light of his torch he saw only a few ells distant a door carven from ice. That was his way. But betwixt he and the door there stood a spectral shape, and Aragorn's heart leapt. There, only a handspan from the icy floor, floated Dwar, Lord of all Barrow-Wights. Aragorn had seen him before now, and had met him in passing in combat, but he was now in a strange place, far beneath the ground. And Dwar was in his own haunts, and was waiting for any foe. Dwar smiled at him, and about his neck Aragorn saw hanging upon a fine silver chain a key. Then Aragorn smiled back, for he saw through Morsereg's plan. To pass into the chamber, one must either have Dwar's permission, or kill the foul Wight. There was only one person in the whole of Middle-earth who could slay such a foe, and what defenses yet awaited were well aware of this. And, to boot, it was not likely that Aragorn would obtain Dwar's permission.

He clenched his teeth and thrust his torch into the wall, advancing slowly to the center of the grot, Anduril held high at his shoulder, and inclined his head to Dwar. The Wight grinned back, perhaps recognizing Aragorn and perhaps not, but the King came on just the same. Dwar was incorporeal, and only a direct strike from his sword would suffice. He feinted first at Dwar's left, but then dropped into a crouch, rolling clean through the ghost, and coming out behind him he swung his blade heavily at his back.

[Alucard]

Dwar's eyes followed Aragorn as he went, and saw the sword coming down. Without a moment's hesitation, the Wight lunged forward, past the strike of the blade and through Aragorn, sending a chill through his entire body. "You shall not defeat me here, Mortal. For no flesh can dominate the spirit." He reached to his side, where there sat a sheath, of sorts. He drew from it the ghastly blade that he donned, and swept the transparent pale blade toward Aragorn.

[Envin]

Aragorn rose to his feet and stared Dwar down. "I shall defeat thee wherever I choose, spiritling, for thou art a personification of death, and I do not fear death. And without the flesh, the spirit may say naught to the living." Anduril met the pale blade of the Wight with an uncanny ring, and Dwar found himself thrown backward by the sheer weight of Aragorn's blow. Then the High King charged in, Anduril singing in the dank air, and quickly dealt seven swift strikes at Dwar from all sides, and the Wight was hard pressed to defend.

[Alucard]

Dwar had blocked the first six, determined not to let the King pass him, however the seventh blow slipped in totally unexpected. It caught Dwar on his left side, as he rose his arm up suddenly to block he found himself stumbling back, a wound of some sort on his arm. Whether you could refer to it as a cut, it is impossible to say, but that is no doubt what it was, nevertheless. A clearish blood dripped down the ghastly arm of Dwar, although it would not fall from the ghost's spectral form. He rushed forward towards Aragorn, taking a swing towards any angle that one could ever think of, a rage burning in his eyes.

[Envin]

A clear steam seemed to evaporate from Dwar's arm, the nearest to blood the Wight had seen in years. Aragorn grinned when his stroke hit home, but leapt back at once, narrowly missing the swipe of the spectral blade. Dwar came onward still, swinging wildly in his rage, and such was Aragorn's presence of mind that he remainded calm even while the demon before his lost himself to his anger. However, Aragorn was hard beset, for physical rules applied not to Dwar, and he moved with the speed of a snake. Aragorn must perforce give ground to his foe, fighting the while, though as he neared the wall behind him he launched into the offensive, taking Dwar off his guard as he unleashed a savagery of blows from every direction.

[Alucard]

Dwar had kept up his hard-pressed defense, and then saw Aragorn coming at him upon reaching the wall. He ducked under the strikes, and rolled to the side, stabbing forward with his blade. From seemingly nowhere came a single Andromalius, who's strong arms made to grab ahold of Aragorn.

[Envin]

Aragorn snarled as Dwar dove aside, and with a well-timed kick managed to meet the Wight's sword with his boot, for he kept his sword ready, as his ears had heard a quick shuffle of footfalls across the floor. He knocked aside Dwar's blade and saw him fall into his roll, and spun about swift as lightning, Anduril extended, though he knew not what he now faced. But, as luck would have it, the pale sword of Numenor was held perfectly, and both of the horrid creature's arms flew from its body in a shower of blood. The Andromalius shrieked and fell writhing to the icy floor, as Aragorn stared at the unnatural being, misshapen travesty of nature, in horror. But so swift had he been that now he heard Dwar coming out of his roll behind him, and quickly, ere the Wight could fully rise, he spun about again, Anduril waist-high and soaring clean at Dwar's neck.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

(Because I'm waiting for some PMs on this account, I have to post using this account...I swear after this little escapade Dwar is going to get his own account again, XD. I use him so much he sorta deserves it.)

Dwar saw the blade swinging, but reacted to late. He rose his own sword up to block the swing, but was too slow. His head was knocked clean from his body, bouncing through the air and hitting against the wall. His ruby red eyes gave a final glare to Aragorn as his ghastly body dissipated. He was not over with, but he had admitted defeat. Despite having to guard Karasu, Dwar was an honorable opponent. He knew when to admit his defeat.

As the mist that had once been Dwar's body cleared, all that was left on the ground was the key that had hung from his neck, glistening brightly. Aragorn had passed that trial, yes, but there were still a good many to go...

[Envin]

Aragorn sank to his knees as a gasp escaped him, and he smiled amidst his sweat at Dwar's defeat. He raised his blade in salute to an honourable foe, and then he stood, and turned with disgust to the Andromalius. It lay there, enormous in its size, gasping for air as the blood left its lungs and drained from the body. Its eyes were red and yellow, and they blazed at Aragorn with an unquenchable flame. It made feeble movements as though to reach him, but its attempts were not succesful - it could no longer move. The best it could manage was to spit bile at him as it lay there, and moved by both pity and loathing Aragorn lifted his blade and brought it down upon its neck. Blood showered the wall.

Aragorn turned to the door, catching up the key that had lain upon the floor. He fitted it into the lock, and noislessly the door melted open to reveal a short tunnel. Aragorn passed through, and the door froze shut behind him. He gripped his sword tightly, for in his haste he had left behind his torch, and now through feel and cautious steps must he advance. Sword ahead of him, he walked down the tunnel, and suddenly the walls upon either side vanished, and a blast of frigid air took him in the face. Aragorn's breath caught.

Here now was certainly the great chamber where Morsereg's darkest secret lay hidden, for it was vast beyond all ken. Perhaps even half a league it stretched into the blackness, and its ceiling could not be seen. About it in a narrow band there stretched a space of ground for an ell or so, but aside from that the cavern was filled with water: liquid water in an enormous subterranean lake, kept from freezing by some dark art of Dindaedel. And beyond the water, in the very center of the cavern, there was a greenish glow that gave dim light to the chamber, but little to be seen. Doubtless it was there that he must make his way.

He swallowed and took a breath, and strode to the edge of the water, but he was not fool enough to touch it, even with his grimy boot plastered with Andromalius blood. He walked to the narrow strip of ice that surrounded the chamber, and walked slowly but with determination about the cavern. A long walk and a cold it was, and without purpose, for no way across the water could be seen. But still the green glow continued in the center of the cavern, mocking Aragorn as strove to find it.


{Part I; feel free to post, Tony, but don't do anything definite.}

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

There was a boat lurking in the water...or so it seemed. It loomed not that far from Aragorn, nearly invisible within the darkness that plagued the cavern. It would seem unguarded to most, asides from those who had encountered the Andromalius once before. It was guarded by atleast a dozen of the fell creatures, and thousands lay in wait in the murky depths below. Across the water, where the greenish glow was emitting, lay the resting place of Karasu, still frozen in ice. Alucard watched from afar, gazing upon Aragorn, his eyes prone to the darkness. He hissed softly, and frowned. Dwar had failed...He would not.

[Envin]

Aragorn continued to walk about the chamber, straining to keep his temper calm as he searched tirelessly for a way across the lake. Lost in the northern wastes of the world, freezing with cold, and faced with what seemed an impossibility, this was not a simple task, but he managed to keep his cool as he circled the lake for the third time. Then he began to think on how crafty Dindaedel had been. One of the most cunning fellows Aragorn had ever met, and certainly his path across the chilling water would be both ingenious and would have some sense of sarcastic humour to it. This led Aragorn to think deeply on who and what Dindaedel was, and what was within his sinews and his mind. Dindaedel was a creature of evil, and as such was enamoured of the dark. This cavern at least was a testament to this, as little enough light could be seen in is expanse. But Morsereg had also been crafty, far more crafty than most people knew, and things were never in terms of black and white for him. It was never the obvious with Morsereg Dindaedel, but the subtle.

And therefore, with a smile, Aragorn began to look for the exact opposite. His Rangers eyes searched the chamber once again, looking for something he might have dismissed before, thinking it too obvious or too unlike Morsereg. And he found it straightaway. He walked swiftly over to a section of the ice, and there before him, subtly seen in the gloom, was a glimmer of light than ran from the wall to the water and beyond into the green. But this place was deep beneath the ground - no light might reach here. And this was light, the exact opposite of Morsereg: far too obvious for Dindaedel, and therefore subtlety at its deepest.

Aragorn gingerly stepped off of the strip of ice, clean onto the water, thinking for all he knew he would drown this day. But the light was in fact solid ice, bewitched by Morsereg, and it held Aragorn fast. Carefully he walked across it toward the green light, glancing as little as possible at the water, for when he did, beneath its surface, merely inches down, he saw shapes of evil and shapes of hatred, bodies foul and bodies rotting in the water, yet whole and entirely too ready for use. They were more of the creatures that he had slain beside Dwar, and though he knew it not, six thousands of Dindaedel's horrible Andromalii lay beneath the water, calmly taking their ease until such time as was appointed for their waking.

Aragorn shuddered and clutched at Anduril, and soon he came to the space whence came the green light. The light shone from a casket of ice that sat in state in the center of an island amidst the water, several yards wide. The floor of the island was smooth and sheer, offering but little foothold, but Aragorn trod across it unafraid, approaching the devilish casket. Soon he was near enough to see that the casket was not alone, but upon it casually sat a dark winged shape.