mallossel

Star Light

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

I stare down at the ring on my finger. Unlike the traditions of Men, we bear our rings on our right index finger. This is the one time I am grateful that I bear arms with my left hand; there is less of a chance of me losing the ring whilst swinging a sword. (Though it is not as if I plan to bear arms again anytime soon). 

Fever Dream

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Loosely inspired by this song.

I Gave You All

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

I awake to the gentle chirping of birdsong, somehow loud enough to overcome the roaring of the waterfall which served as a soundtrack to my sleep. My eyes open to a briefly unfamiliar location, though as they adjust I am able to recognize it as the East Porch of the Last Homely House. The sun is making its path along the morning sky. 

Star-Crossed

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Foolhardy. 

Drunk. 

Insane. 

Foolhardy

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

“You are far too beautiful to love me.”

Buried Awake

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

I cannot breathe. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. In a nightmare, I am falling - but it’s right into Gondolin again. I can taste the heat of flames and I know what happens in this moment - this is the moment I dive in front of Mallossel and take the brunt of the dragon’s fire from her.

Dream Sequence / White Fire

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Conceptual

I had not dreamed in many days. Between the wound in my shoulder - which had been infected, but is now healing - and the turmoil in my own emotions concerning one close to me, I thought I would dream more often than the silence that faced me when I closed my eyes. 

A Long Day

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

No matter which way I lay on my bed, I cannot escape the dull ache of pain in my shoulder. I feel a quiet hiss of discomfort pass my lips - though I am still grateful, as it is not nearly as pained as it was before I allowed Ithilwe to treat it.  Perhaps recounting my day until this point will help lull me to sleep...

Diary; A Tense Farewell

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

The date and ink are so old that the writing is hard to make out. It is written in an older dialect of Sindarin. The pages of the journal that have been written on are yellowed and weathered and warping on the edges. The fact that it is preserved so well could only be attributed to elvish conservation methods.

 

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