Tournament Registration

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

In the Northern climes of Angmar, past the fortress of Carn Dum, was the tower of Minas Sereg, newly built. Orcs and Northern Men alike kept guard over this fotress, at present allowing those in only whom had been invited to the tournament. Past the courtyard was the entrance hall, with black marble staircases leading in different directions. In one direction were the rooms provided for entrants, yet there was one staircase going down...very far down. All that could be seen down there was black, the staircase disappearing from sight before the end could be spotted.

To the left of the entrance, however, was a pub of sorts, where the men of Angmar held conversations with each other. The barman was a kind fellow, as kind as one could get in Angmar, and sported a scar running along the left side of his face. Behind him was a roster, for those that wished to sign up for the tournament, and many sets of keys, for the rooms.

TOURNAMENT REGISTRATION:

FIRST ROUND

Núrutyáve - The Drow v. Saeren Chi'Gandir - The Bat
Legolas v. Cerridwen
Lebennen v. Chi'Gandir - The Bat Saeren
Lancir Misolen v. Siranna
Balan v. Maedion

[Envin]

The barman was a studious fellow, very attentive to his work. On the one hand, he had to be, running a tavern in the middle of so many foul and uncouth sorts of folk who would rob him blind without thinking. Therefore, he oft remained behind the bar, where his cash and ales were stored, guarding them against unscrupulous fellows. As such, he was dumbfounded when he happened to glace behind him for some Dwarven stout and saw that a name had been placed upon the roster. He grunted with displeasure at so being taken for a fool in his own inn. He leaned closer, and saw that the name had been scratched into the paper and into the wood behind, with a very, very fine knife point in perfect script. The name read Núrutyáve - The Drow. The barman sniffed, glanced about the room and saw no one. He checked his stores of ale and his money, grunted with moderate satisfaction, and returned to work. People were clamoring for ale, and he was, after all, a studious fellow.

[Saeren]

Saeren threw back the long , black velvet cloak as he walked in, with his people.
It was a long, long time since he had been so far north, not since the Witch King had dwelled in Angmar. The smug of the tavern he ignored, more interested in why this person, of whom he knew, - or at least knew of, would be encouraging people to come here for this tournament.
He drew mine hosts gaze by dint of standing perfectly still and staring at him, then wrote his name in flowing script, with a quill which spluttered a little over the parchment. he turned to the others with raised brows, and a look which seemed to say without words, that he would be very disappointed if they refused to partake. To him a fight was a fight, it was all he had ever truly done, mainly because it was the one thing his father did not do well, and it distanced him from Sauron . He had weilded weapons for a long time, felt death close by more than once, war was a job to him, and fighting gave him a thrill.

[Legolas]

Legolas dug into the list with his pen, his perfect signature graven deep, after what he had felt, been through, in these last months, he did not think anything could touch him any longer.

[Cerridwen]

Cerridwen merely shook her head. She was no slouch with weapons, having been trained by the Marchwardens of Doriath, including the great Beleg Cuthalion and Mablung of the Heavy Hand, but she was here for different reasons. And undoubtedly these were out of her class.
She liked to see warriors fighting, the play of muscle, the skill, the speed, because she craved stimulation always, but she glanced at her son .

[Lebennen]

There was no question of Lebennen not fighting of course , he had been with Saeren since his youth, and his Lieutenant for almost as long, he signed neatly, without flourishes, and ordered wine .

[Chi'Gandir]

Chi'Gandir made his way into the pub and to the barman, who seemed to be the first in a long while not to show disgust at his clawlike hands. "Sign me up for the tournament," He asked the Barman, who looked at him in shock, and spat the question why he couldn't do it himself. "I'm blind," Chi'Gandir replied casually, at which the Barman nodded, going over to the roster, all the while wondering how a blindman would fight. "The name is Chi'Gandir - The Bat." The man froze for a split second as the name's Chi'Gandir and Núrutyáve registered in his mind but then went to writing it down. Chi'Gandir listened to the noise of the pub, using it to form a detailed mental map, and made his way to the farthest corner, where he ordered ale and sat patiently, should anyone of interest join the tournament.

[Lancir Misolen]

lancir made his way into the pub and looked around his black clothing borwn with dirt as he ade his wya to the sign up sheet and signed

Lancir Misolen

[Siranna]

Siranna kept her left hand ontop of her sword. Keeping a weary eye on the many men, of all races and alliegences. This was a strange place now with the tournament to be sure, and she had enough of their host- Lord Morsereg, to be sure. She soon made it to the man with the sign up sheet and placed her name upon it; Siranna. Then she took her seat towards the back, sipping a wine.

[Saeren]

Saeren broke the lead seal on the wine, gathering his people about him, looking around, '' here, '' he swept Cerridwen onto his lap. She was quite capable of wandering off and just probably getting killed, wastefully, and stupidly, and he had too many plans for her, and was too possessive to allow that to happen. Besides, he had brought her for relaxation purposes, there would not be any women in this place worth a glance.
The wine was good, old, mellow, tasting of ripe autumn fruits hanging in sleepy golden sunlight.
'' Pour, '' he handed her the flagon, his eyes moving around the room.

[~Tom~]

As his horse trotted ;azily to the pub, its rider had felt an uneasyiness upon him, for some reason he was junrying into the heart of evil with open arms, but then again he would like to know of Gondors foes and there weakness'es. As the thought had left his head he had reached the pub where he dismounted the horse and tied the reigns on the bar of wood, though he thought that wouldnt be much to keep the horse from fleeing from these lands, filled with so many unseen terrors.

Putting forth his hand to open the door , it was wenched away and out came some scruffy looking fellow, he looked back to the door way to see quite a big fellow , who didnt lack in stature. "After you sir" he said waiting for the large fellow to move, once he did he rushed through to the bar where he found the parchment nailed to the wall.

Looking down the names there were many unkowns, hopefully he could remain this way until he finds the true enemy, taking the quil he scriblled his name across the paper and walked off to the bar to get him some ale.

[Maedion]

Maedion looked back at Saeren, his chin lifted, then wrote his name. He sat down, noting his lords attitude towards his mother, - but nothing Saeren ever did could surprise him, or shock him, not after so many years.
'' What is the point of this, do you suppose? '' he asked, sipping the wine. He knew nothing of these lands, save what he had been told over the years. A burst of rough laughter exploded from a distant table and a frown crossed his face, '' Nice people, '' he murmured , ironically. '' You generally take me to more... salubrious locations, Aran-nin, ''

[Lebennen]

Lebennen cast him a faint smile, '' Lucky cunneth, '' he murmured, considering Maedion a spoiled prince, for all his warrior skills, for Saeren had ensured Maedion always had the very best of everything.
'' Look at it from a powerful rulers point of view. Who, with any skill, can resist showing it in any game or tournament? Tests of skill, or strength, or endurance, or speed, or power. What better way for some-one to take stock of the people of power and influence in Middle Earth? ''

[Cerridwen]

Cerridwen, without a change of expression brought her booted heel down onto Saerens shin, hard.

'' And to... see that they do not leave, if they are judged any sort of threat, '' she said, her eyes on her son. '' This is not wise, ionn-nin. ''

[Maedion]

Maedions eyes widened at his mother, then locked his gaze on Lebennen's, for there had ever been rivalry between these two.
'' Ah, of course, well so we might all have just taken a trip to this Valar forsaken place to die then? '' he looked at Saeren curiously. '' Were we that bored, aran-nin? ''