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Found 2 results

  1. Peredhil

    A weary traveler returns

    He approached through one of the forests that abutted the Pen Keep. Guido was scouting ahead, his neat suit looking very out of place against the backdrop of bushes along the forest track. Further back from the trail, the bushes gave way to towering giants, trees thrusting straight without branches to fight with canopied foliage for precious sunlight. It amused Peredhil to no end that the Giant Guinea Pig stopped frequently to buff his shoes back to a shine against the back of his calves. The black fabric had obtained a patina of dust, fragments of leaves, and bits of mold - but the tips of the shoes shone as befit a member of the Bodyguard Guild of the land of Fractured Fairy-tales. Peredhil had had on numerous occasions on this trek to magically clean and adjust the clothes to fit. Guido had gone from a happy 334 pounds to a lean not-so-happy 280, and Peredhil knew that the foppish rodent worried that he didn't look his best. That the sight of a six and a half foot Guinea Pig dressed in a tailored suit, bearing a sub-machinegun might appear odd to some never seemed to occur. Although, he himself wasn't much better, he had to admit. He was dressed in a raw-silk Armani suit of various shimmering greys, although in deference to the journey he wore Corcoran boots. They currently weren't shiny at all, but Guido would assuredly fix that this evening. "Da Boss" had to maintain appearances, after all, he smiled to himself. He suppose in many ways, he still looked the same as he ever had. One Bard had described him thusly, "His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fulness of his strength." Which was true enough then, but the travels and ages had left changes. He wore his hair in a neat tapered cut, around his decidedly NOT-pointed ears, and his eyes positively shone with joy and mirth - particularly when he was reminded of his second, and new, wife. His first, Celebrían, had passed to the West after being savaged by the Orcs of Mordor. If it had been Mynx taken, she assuredly would've spent several of her lives hunting each other them down and teaching them manners. The circlet was gone, given to children on one of the many Planes he'd walked since leaving through the Halls of Mandos to wander. Silver touched his temples now, and it had been long since he'd been a warrior, although he was still deceptively powerful. Still just over six feet of height, he remained unbent by age. For those with the Sight, and very keen sight it would needs be, he still bore a Ring on his left hand. Mockingly he thought, "yea, power and skill was yet in his hand, wisdom and insight set his brow." He'd really have to find a copy of the Bard of Middle-Earth to re-read, although the universe therein recorded wasn't *quite* the one from which he'd come. Ambling along at the rear, carrying most of the packs and gear, but lacking the gun, was Nuncio. Since Guido had lost his weight, it was far more obvious they were twins. Other than superficial markings on the fur, they looked alike, and dressed alike, although they couldn't be more different in personality. Guido was an extroverted clown, while Nuncio was rather pedantic and fussy, to be honest. The thought of twins made him think of his sons, aware on their own journeys. A bend in the trail and the Tower was revealed. Stretching higher than Orthanc, it brought a familiar smile to his lips. Guido's jokes about writers and phallic symbols was simply too good to be forgotten. His mobile lips stretched to a wide grin as he saw that there were lesser spires and turrets, a true fairy-tale castle. The Pen had grown much since he'd left.
  2. Elrohir decided he needed to sit and think things over. Dad had long advised such a course, and occasionally over the Planes, he'd actually had to resort to it. This seemed such an occasion as he'd never dealt with any similar situation in a long long life over many worlds on many Planes following his father. He'd hated to do it, because a peculiarity of Planeswalking was that he and his twin, Elladan, were very much more powerful together than apart, nearly as strong as the Peredhil, but needs-must drove them. Dad's bodyguards, the Giant Guinea Pigs Guido and Nuncio, weren't even lesser Planeswalkers. They were very skilled, after so much time, in a variety of matters, and even possessed magical abilities in some places and times. And they were currently lost, hopefully in the same place, but even that was unknown. As much as he liked them, he and 'Dan probably wouldn't have separated except that Dad would rather he stay in his current Trap than they have a singed hair. And, like many who loved the old Elf, that meant trying to do things his way out of respect. Even the practical 'Dan tended to try to be Polite first, and kill later. He was also a better Planes-tracker, so it had fallen to himself to find help. Which was downright embarrassing, when it came to it. He tried to gather his thoughts and stop their wandering. It just seemed so improbable. The Peredhil caught in a trap and unable to escape. Even if he could encompass that concept, that the master of Portals could be trapped, it seemed unbelievable that he and 'Dan couldn't do anything at all to help. It had been business as usual. Peredhil had become restless, driven by his own memories and sorrows, and decided to look for a new Plane to distract himself. They'd been drifting from world to world in the latest Plane - after a while they tended to blur together - and the time had come to move on. They'd scribed the Sigils and Glyphs, and taken the five positions, and Peredhil had triggered the Portal To Somewhere. It was one of Dad's signature spells, opening a portal to a semi-random place that fit the criteria - supporting their type of life being a foundational requirement. It all went well, until it was triggered. Something intercepted them. Something strong. Something that had ripped apart the spell, seized Dad, and dumped the rest wherever the energies had sent them. 'Dan had found him first, although it had taken him weeks of local time, and 'Dan nearly a year. Together they'd sought their father. He lived, at least, they knew that much. Elladan had managed to find the correct Plane, and once there, Elrohir had used his affinities for spiritual deities to hone in on the world. The precise location was blocked by a being of such power they were unable to use magical means to enter. The few local deities were sympathetic, but feared to help. Whatever had trapped the Peredhil was a Planeswalker of such power it was at war with all other powers, and had slain most of the deities of the world, and done genocide on their worshippers to ensure they stayed dead. Nothing lived, without permission, for miles around the Power's center of power, an entire Mountain. They'd decided to make a try anyway, only to find that even the physical paths were deadly. A rarity of rarities, the Entity had Elfbane, of the kind that was poisonous and toxic to them. Like kryptonite to the Ubermensch in one of their favorite worlds to shop, its mere presence rendered them helpless to proceed. And there was a great deal of it on and in the Mountain. 'Dan went to track the Guinea Pigs, and it was up to him to find help. It would take something like the Dreamer to make a frontal assault, and in a conflict of such magnitude, it would be very likely that their father wouldn't survive. So they needed subtle skills. The Jack of Shadows, a Yui, a Mynx. Someone who'd be powerful enough to enter and free the Peredhil, but insane enough to be willing to try. And so, after searching the nearest worlds, and then Planes, he found himself sitting here and wondering what to do next.
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