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The Prancing Pony (Fellowship of the Ring Empire Thread)
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| Also, what happened with that "Ten Dimensions of the Metaverse" stuff? |
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What was that going to be?
          
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Sounds a lot like the campaign and custom scenarios for AP. In fact, I think that is exactly what they are.
   
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It may have done. But if they were going ahead with it, they probably wouldn't have done it yet, since the scenarios aren't finalised yet, are they?
  
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| New Metaverse ranking category: Scenario leaders (we don't want to penalize people who play scenarios by not counting their scores so what we'll do is have scenarios have their own rankings -- plus that could be a lot of fun where people create scenarios and compete to be best at them)." |
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Ahhhh so that's the ten dimensions of the meta.
Missed it by that much. 
Not to be a nattering naysayer of negativeism, but somethimes froggy's ambition is a bit more than realistic budgets can handle. I'll believe it when I see it. And as soon as he finds out the scenerios better score 60k to be worthwhile, it's probably toast.
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Thursday, May 06, 2004 - Galactic Civilizations: Altarian Prophecy Release Candidate 2
Based on feedback from players, we have made a second release candidate. The only change is that in the campaigns the difficulty level players choose no longer affects the intelligence of your teammates -- just your enemies.
PLEASE give us feedback on the campaign as this is the part that we need your help on the most. Assuming all goes well, we'll be going gold on this on May 27 with electronical availability starting in June and CDs shipped out at that time as well. |
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Ray had asked when AP was "going gold" - looks like May 27.
 
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Hi, there is an interesting topic regarding Metaverse scoring here
 Link
If you agree with the metaverse problems perhaps by participating constructively we can get stardock to agree to make a change for the better.
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I like the idea of no cap for maso scores.
But I don't care enough to do anything about it. I'd prefer it if they fixed the AI.
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| I'd prefer it if they fixed the AI. |
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I agree, having the AI working smarter would be nice.
I think that changing the metaverse scoring problem would be simple and quick to do.
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| I like the idea of no cap for maso scores.But I don't care enough to do anything about it. I'd prefer it if they fixed the AI. |
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Bingo. I can't see myself playing much longer. Even now I only play to help out the team. You smacked the nail upside the head earlier I think Matt when you said something to the effect of why bother doing the same thing over and over and over like a monkey when you've already explored the game or something like that.
Though this game had a nice shelflife and the meta was fun, I can't see myself playing (and being challenged like Civ) 3 or 4 years from now without changes to the AI. And though it's probably the best ai without total cheats in it, I think we're not quite to the era where an ai can compete and the game have longevity without them. It's just too easy to beat. AP didn't fix that fundamental problem.
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Good discussion. Newfy thanks for the link. Jack that was a nice discussion of meta scoring on the link. It appears we have come full circle. .
Oh well, play the game for fun. 
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| I think Matt when you said something to the effect of why bother doing the same thing over and over and over like a monkey when you've already explored the game or something like that. |
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This may have been a cunning plan on my part to make my enemies give up - I can't remember.
We could still try and put together a list of AI improvements to make the game stay challenging and petition stardock to implement it. ( Link post 919 and others.)
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Whoopee! Finished my game and my shield turned red. Next goal is to get to one million mpts before I lose last summer's games and go backwards. .
FotR is hanging in there at sixth.
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Weyrleader is posting some games. Please say hi if you ever cruise the thread.
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He used to post on this thread, a few months back.
Maybe we should throw him a party.
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| Maybe we should throw him a party. |
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Any member of the FotR still submitting games definitely deserves a party. .
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Should we invite him, or just start without him? 
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Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
“The Prancing Pony – Now Under New Management,” said the sign outside.
“Good,” said Downie, under his breath, as he entered. “Hated the old management.”
The décor had undergone a major overhaul. Potted plants were everywhere.
“Hey, dad,” said Elentári, waving him over to her table. Milady was sat next to her; she said nothing.
“What’s happened to this place?” said Downie, seating himself.
“It’s just reopened as an Elvish theme-pub,” said Milady, with a thin smile.
“Oh no!” said Downie.
“What?” said Elentári. “I thought you wanted me to get in touch with my half-elf heritage.”
“Yes, but not this phoney stuff. I mean, what’s that you’re drinking? Beer? A real elf pub would never serve beer – the smell attracts dwarves.”
“You have to expect some compromises. But listen to that background music. That’s a genuine Elvish lament, right?”
“That’s Enya, you philistine!”
“What are you doing back here?” said Milady. “I thought you went off to challenge Ray to a duel.”
“I did. I couldn’t get in. He’s been locked into his mage tower for months. Still, not for much longer. According to a prophecy, he’s going to return today. That’s when I’ll get my chance.”
“Are you really acting as Steward in his absence? You don’t seem much like a leader of men.”
“I’m an anarchist, you see. It’s not easy, running an anarchist government. I mean, I’ve tried to abolish private property, but the peasantry just ignored me, and there’s nothing I can do about it without compromising my anarchist principles.”
“But you’re still planning to bring back the other elves?” said Elentári.
“Terrible idea if you ask me,” said Navastnik, drinking alone at the bar, as he had been for the past week. “We don’t want to be swamped with Elvish economic immigrants, coming over here, stealing our jobs and our women. I mean, I like lembas cakes and stuffed mallorn leaves, I do, but we already have the recipes.”
“Why would any sane elf want to do a human job or date a human woman?” said Elentári. “When he could spend his time cavorting with elf-maidens in the forests?”
Downie shot her a sharp glance.
“Aren’t you an immigrant yourself?” said Milady, to Navastnik.
“Oh, I’m all in favour of the immigrants we already have. But there are enough now. We don’t need any more.”
“Don’t encourage him, mum,” said Elentári.
“You’re her mother?” said Navastnik. “You look too young to have a grown-up daughter.”
“Why, thank you,” said Milady.
“No, seriously, much too young. How old were you when you had her? Fourteen?”
“She’s only that old because of relativistic time-dilation, or something like that,” snapped Milady.
“Hey, there’s something I kept meaning to ask,” said Downie. “How can people like you go off into the metaverse and conquer a galaxy and come back without having aged twenty years?”
Navastnik blinked. “Cryogenics, of course. You make some decisions once a month, then go into stasis while they’re carried out.”
“Argh! Why didn’t somebody tell me that was allowed?” said Downie.
“So, is it true what they say about half-elf girls?” said Navastnik, giving Elentári a sly wink.
“What do they say?”
“You know. That they’re... broad-minded.”
Elentári rolled her eyes. A beam of light shot from her hand, hitting Navastnik. He toppled over, flat on his face, and lay still, snoring quietly.
“That was quite impressive,” said Downie. “Was that a Stun spell? Takes me back. First spell I ever learned...”
“Err. Yeah, that’s what it was. A spell.”
Downie caught her by the wrist. Something fell from her hand.
“You took a hand-phaser back from our trip into space? I told you – no futuristic gadgets in my fantasy realm!”
“Yeah, but I’m not stupid. A girl can’t be too careful. You don’t know what it’s like out there for me. I’m not a fearless orc-slayer like you.”
“Well, in accordance with my anarchist principles, I’ll leave it up to you. I suppose you have to take care of yourself somehow when I’m gone.”
Milady frowned. “You’re sounding very worried all of a sudden. What happened to your blasé attitude to the adventuring life?”
“I’m not afraid of maniacs with swords, monsters, or space robots. One swift arrow in the vulnerables, and they go down like anyone else. I am afraid of powerful wizards. They have invisible force fields and spells that turn you inside-out. I mean, it’s not like I’m a human putting myself in danger. What have you got to lose? A few decades of life? Hardy worth worrying about. But think what I’ll be risking...”
“Stay. Seriously.”
He shook his head.
“You who are gathered here before The Empty Throne; today is the day our faith shall be rewarded. The Altarian Prophecy shall be fulfilled! Thus speaks The Prophet!”
“All hail Ray!” chorused his followers, who had assembled in the throne-room of the Fellowship Halls.
“What prophecy is that, then?” said the caretaker, who had come to wipe the dust from The Empty Throne.
“The Prophecy states that upon a certain day, something called an ‘Expansion Pack’ will lure Ray out of his private chambers and inspire him to return to us! We shall be saved from the tyranny of Downie! The Fellowship will rise again!”
“But... wasn’t Ray a much worse tyrant?” said the caretaker.
“We never appreciated him enough,” said the prophet. “Yes, he may have been ruthless, and unpredictable, and sadistic, and corrupt, and insane. But when he was around, the Fellowship was the Fellowship. At least it’ll be better than the stewardship of Downie.”
“What’s so bad about Downie?”
“Tell him, Gorlim,” said the prophet, to one of his followers.
Gorlim shuddered. He had no wish to rake up a painful memory, but he was a loyal member of the cult. “One night, I heard a knock at the door. Downie had sent guards to ‘collect’ me. They chained me up, and dragged me to his office. He looked down at me, and demanded that I challenge him to write a comic song in the style and subject of my choice. It was horrible!”
Gorlim broke down into tears. His fellow cultists put their arms around his shoulder to comfort him.
“Have no fear!” said the prophet. “Today is the day Ray shall return to us! I have foreseen it!”
There was a creak from the locked door of the Ray’s tower. Everyone turned expectantly to face it. The handle turned. There was a click. It opened. And Ray strode out into the throne-room.
“He has returned! All hail Ray!” shouted the prophet. The cultists cheered. Ray waved at them to quieten down.
“Ah, Bickle, isn’t it?” he said to the caretaker. “Is there any mail for me?”
“I left it on the shelf,” said the caretaker, pointing.
“Let’s see.” Ray went over to the shelf, and began picking up the letters one at the time, and throwing them over his shoulder as he rejected them for lack of interest.
“Bill... Bill... Junk mail... Bill... Junk... Bill... Declaration of war... Bill... Ah, here it is!” he said, picking up a small package. He tore it open eagerly, and pulled out a deck cards.
“The... ah... sacred ancient Tarot of Finwë!” he said, to the confused onlookers. “Very important to my magickal studies. Say, is Theoden around? I haven’t seen him recently.”
“No,” said the caretaker. “He went off to rule the universe.”
“That crazy kid! What will he think of next? Well, see you around.”
He returned to the tower, and locked the door behind him.
There was a long pause.
“Was that it?” said Simon.
“The Prophecy was fulfilled,” said the prophet. “Ray did return!”
“But only for five minutes! What were we standing around here for?”
The cultists began to file out.
“Wait! I’m having another vision!” said the prophet. “I see what the problem is! The ‘expansion pack’ was still ‘beta’! But the next time Ray returns...”
As Ray ascended the spiral staircase, he looked through his new cards. “Got... Got... Not got! Aerodactyl! Brilliant!”
He returned to his private chamber. There was a figure behind the desk, someone who had sneaked in while the door was unlocked.
“I know about the ring,” said Downie.
Ray smiled, as if relieved. “You might as well learn the whole story then. You see, Saruman left me a message, after the war. He unlocked the door of his prison with a secret key, and went to the Shire. Without a drop of magic, he set about transforming it into a vision of the coming world. He died, of course, but not before making his message clear. He showed me a world without magic, a nightmare of smoke and mills. This was the future we had bought with blood in the Great Ring War. You have seen that future yourself, I believe? When we go out into the metaverse, all those other worlds out there are free of magic. What do they have in its place? Highways. Nuclear-power plants. Shopping malls. And people, frittering away their lonely lives with TV and computer games. Would you want to live in such a world? Would anyone? And so I began to seek for a way to preserve the magic of the ancient days. I enlisted the help of Galadriel, and lured her to Isengard, in the hope that together, we could complete the work Saruman had begun; his notes on ring lore were still intact. We would create a new ring.”
“So the ring you possess is not the original Great Ring?”
“The one we created was only a vessel for magic. It might have worked, but magic itself was all but gone from the land, and it seemed too late to do recapture it. I therefore proposed to Galadriel that she should teach me The Ultimate Spell. She resisted... at first. The nature of the spell is that it reaches back into time itself. Through the subtle manipulation of time, almost anything can be achieved. And so I cast my hand back to the eruption of Mount Doom, in search of the True Ring. But what I got back disappointed me; some horrible burned-up creature, still alive for no reason I could make out. I asked him his name, but all he could do was make a sound like cat coughing up fur. I tried again, but Galadriel, working in secret, had performed the Penultimate Counterspell, and forever sealed off that part of the past from my grasp. I would have killed her then, but pity, or perhaps love, stayed my hand, and I sent her away, into the West, to diminish along with her people. Time went by, and I found a little magic had remained. Somehow, although my spell had not rescued the ring itself from time, I had instead captured the essence of the ring from its moment of destruction. This essence, I now possessed, trapped within The One False Ring. I had succeeded. But how could I be sure my victory would last? I could retreat to Barad-Dur, perhaps, and hold out for as long as possible. But then mankind would have united against me. Instead, I decided to become an avatar for good. I had to make some compromises, of course. Firstly, I was forced to eliminate my competition for dominion of Middle-Earth. Having put an end to Aragorn...”
“To Estel,” said Downie, making an Elvish play on words. “That’s what we called him.”
“Whatever. I then had to consolidate my dominion by turning myself into a legend. With judicious use of The Ultimate Spell, I stole from people’s minds the achievements of the original Fellowship. In my new history, it was I, not the hobbits, who defeated Sauron, and who purified the ring.”
“Such a massive lie? Even with your magic, how could people be fooled?”
“Who wants to hear they owe their lives to a couple of hairy pixies? They believe what the history books tell them to believe. The next part of my plan was for dealing with evil. Firstly, I had men withdraw from Mordor, telling them the land was forever tainted. Thus, I allowed the orcs and trolls to return.”
“To what end?”
“To create an enemy for us to be united against, of course! As long as there was fear, we would not fight among ourselves, and would not dare attack me. I formed a new White Council, and then a new Fellowship, to protect the people from this threat. After that I had to deal with the evil inherent in any great ring of power. I had to give reign to the evil within myself, in carefully controlled doses. And so I chose my moments, and committed acts of selfish cruelty; never so much as to weaken my position, nor to destroy the kingdom I had created.”
“Thus explaining the contrast between ‘Good Ray’ and ‘Evil Ray’?”
“Yes, although my haemorrhoids flaring up also had something to do with it.”
“But what of the elves? Is it you who keeps us from returning?”
“Yes, through the power of the Ring.”
“To preserve your power, I suppose?”
“No, I just don’t like them very much. You’re so smug. You go around acting like you’re better than humans in every way.”
“Well, we are, aren’t we?”
“That’s what makes it so annoying! Now, dwarves, on the other hand, are fine, no problem there. Muscular midgets with battle-axes? What’s not to like?”
“You obviously never tried to sleep in a tavern where dwarves were holding a party. By the way, when I said I knew about the ring, I meant the third Elven ring. I brought Vilya back from the Undying Lands with me – that’s where I got the power to work my runic magic – and I found Narya in a dragon-hoard. Now I just need Nenya to have the whole set. I learned from an oracle that someone was carrying it around in their pocket, never using it. I thought to myself, who’d treat a ring of power like that? And I realised: Only someone who already had a better one.”
“This old thing?” said Ray, producing the ring of Galadriel from out of his robe. “I suppose you think that the three Elven rings together would be powerful enough to calm the Sundering Seas that keep your people from the lands of men?”
“Kinda.”
“No doubt you’re right. Go on, give it a try,” said Ray, and threw the ring to Downie.
“It’s a trap, isn’t it?” said Downie.
“Of course. If you try to use the rings, I will have absolute power over you. My Ring rules ‘em all, as the saying goes.”
“So I’d have to defeat you to succeed in my quest?”
“Exactly.”
“In that case, forget it. You can keep the ring. I mean, it would be nice to get the old gang back together again, but I’m not getting myself killed over it.”
“I rather think you are. I can’t let you go around telling everyone what you know, can I?”
“Can’t you? What if I promise not to talk about it?”
“You can’t be trusted to keep your mouth shut. Sooner or later, you’d turn it into a song.”
“...but it would be a really good song, I promise.”
Ray pulled a gemstone from his belt, and smashed it to the floor. “Behold! I summon the loyal servants of the Fellowship!”
There were two puffs of smoke, one after the other.
“Is that it?” said Ray. “Where’s everyone else?”
“I think they got bored,” said Downie.
“Honestly. Some people. No sense of duty. So, who do we have? Aha! Only the best! Ricbayer and Vincible! Kill this traitor!”
“Kill him?” said Ricbayer. “Seems a bit harsh.”
“He’s pretty harmless,” said Vincible.
“Tell you what,” said Downie. “I’ll take you on one at a time, in fair duels, in whatever field you feel most competent. The loser will do whatever the winner says.”
“All right,” said Vincible. “I’ll take you on at magic, if you like. Though it hardly seems fair.”
“I don’t mind,” said Downie. “We each cast one spell. Whoever’s spell is the most impressively stunning wins. You go first.”
“Right,” said Vincible. “I shall perform... The Ultimate Spell!” He began to chant. The air grew hazy. A dark halo surrounded him. He reached one arm upwards, and a great sword fell from nowhere, into his hand. “Behold!” he said. “The lost sword Glamdring, which shines with a pale light in the presence of evil!”
“Marvellous,” said Downie. “I’ll bear that in mind next time I’m trying to hide in a dark cave and I want a sword that gives away my location. My turn?”
“Go ahead,” said Vincible, confidently.
“Thank you. I shall perform this runic charm in the form of a genuine Elvish lament from the Third Age, which I shall attempt to translate into the common tongue.. Ahem....”
He raised his warharp, and began to sing softly.
“There was a fair maiden from Amon Sûl
Who fell madly in love with a Nazgûl.
To this ancient witch-king,
She said, “Give me a ring!
You’re a wraith, but at least you’ll be faithful!”
“Hmm...” said Ray. “I think it loses something in the translation.”
“That’s true,” said Downie. “Specifically, it loses the runic component that completes the spell. Oh, well. Bragoliâ!” A beam of light shot from his hand, striking Vincible, and knocking him unconscious.
“A mere stun spell? You think that’s more impressive than The Ultimate Spell?” said Ray.
“What I actually said was that the winner would be the one whose spell was most stunning. Is it might fault he didn’t take it literally?”
“My turn,” said Ricbayer. “I challenge you to a fencing match. Standard rules. First valid hit wins.”
“OK!” said Downie. He stooped down, and picked up Glamdring. “It’s been years since I used a sword. This’ll be fun.”
“You do realise that I’m the world’s greatest swordsman?”
“So I’ve heard. Long time since I fought one of those.”
“And that I bear the unbreakable blade of Rómen Tur?”
“That sounds nice,” said Downie, trying to wipe off an old stain from his own weapon. “Dear me,” he said. “Balrog blood is so hard to remove.”
They faced off. Ricbayer adopted a classic ‘low’ stance. Downie waved his sword around, apparently at random.
There was a blur of shimmering steel.
“You are good,” said Ricbayer.
“Have we started already?” said Downie.
Another blur of silver, and a sudden gush of red.
“Ah! My hand!” cried Ricbayer.
“Does that mean I win?” said Downie.
“No! Arm hits don’t count!”
“Sorry about that. Can we have a do-over?”
Ricbayer gritted his teeth, cut a strip from his robe, and tied it around the hurt.
“OK, ready,” he said.
Clang! Clang! Shlick!
“Argh! You did it again!” said Ricbayer.
“Sorry! Sorry! Out of practise. Can you fight left-handed?”
“Not as well.”
“Tell you what. I’ll fight left-handed too. Then it’ll be fair.”
Two minutes later...
“Now do I win?” said Downie.
“Leg hits don’t count either! It has to be below the neck and above the groin!”
“Really? Actually, I was aiming for the groin.”
Another two minutes later...
Clang! Clang! Thwip!
“Ow!” said Downie. “I think you got me. On the shoulder. Does that count?”
“Yes!” said the heavily lacerated Ricbayer, weakly. “I... win...” He sighed in satisfaction, and keeled over from loss of blood.
“He really was the world’s greatest swordsman,” said Downie.
“Now, will you keep your word and surrender?” said Ray.
Downie held Glamdring to Ray’s throat. “What I actually said was that I’d obey the winner. Since he’s unconscious, and not saying anything, that’s not much of a problem.”
“Oh,” said Ray.
“You’re not really so tough, are you? Your powers have atrophied from lack of use.”
“I’ve been busy with other things,” said Ray, hurt.
“Enough. You will do as I say, or die. Any spell you attempt will be abruptly cut off. Give me your ring. All your rings. Got any pierced body-parts I should know about?”
Ray smirked. “No, but you’re about to get a pierced liver.”
Downie felt a stabbing pain in his back; unsurprisingly, since he’d just been stabbed in the back. His sword arm was held from behind. He struggled, and turned his head. Behind him, he saw a man with eyes like diamonds and an eagle-feather in his hair.
“Weyrleader?” said Downie.
Weyrleader said nothing.
“Weyrleader! The Silent Rider!” crowed Ray. “I knew there had to be more than two loyalists left.”
“Why?” said Downie.
Weyrleader said nothing.
“Weyrleader was a wyrm-tamer. I believe you recently slew a friend of his, the last of the she-dragons?” said Ray. “Weyrleader, my thanks. If you want anything, a place on the Senate for example, just ask.”
Weyrleader said nothing.
Downie, dying, slipped on the three rings, and began muttering to himself.
“What’s that?” said Ray. “Are you seriously attempting The Ultimate Spell? After hearing Vincible perform it just once? The ritual takes years to learn. Anyway, what are you going to do with it? I already told you, The Ring is protected from that spell, and no other power can defeat me or save you.”
Downie slumped to the floor. A glow came from his outstretched hand. Ray bent down and prised open his fingers, and extracted something. “You did it! I underestimated you. But what’s this key? What did you think you were going to do with it?”
“Saruman’s spare,” muttered Downie.
“The one he used to escape from his imprisonment?” said Ray. “But if he didn’t have that, he couldn’t have escaped! The ending of The Great Tale would have been different!”
“Shorter though,” said Downie. “Which is probably a good thing, if you’re watching a three-and-a-half hour film version and you need the toilet...”
“But without Saruman, I’d never have been inspired to learn The Ultimate Spell and save The Ring! The Ring would have been lost forever, and the magic would have drained from the world, and...”
He looked out of the window. The land was shimmering, fading.
Downie’s world was overcome with darkness.
He awoke in a white room, surrounded by men in green.
“Can you tell me your name?” someone was saying.
“Downie,” said Downie.
“‘Downie’?”
“No, Downie...”
“His pressure’s dropping. We’re losing him...” he heard.
The darkness returned.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” said a female voice.
“Mm? Where am I?”
“In a hospital. You were lucky to pull through. Did you know you’ve got a very rare blood group?”
“I’ll bet.” Downie opened his eyes.
“Milady?” he said, recognising the white-clad figure standing over his bed.
“I beg your pardon? I’m Nurse Gribble.”
“You were my girlfriend. Remember?”
She laughed. “I think you’re still confused. I’m happily married to a Russian professor. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t date Trekkies.”
“Trekkies?”
“Those latex pointy ears are a bit of a give-away,” she said. “The surgeons were all for cutting them off while you were unconscious, but I talked them out of it.”
Downie moaned in despair. “What have I done? I’m not cool any more!”
He caught a glimpse of a pair of familiar figures walking down the corridor outside the ward.
“Hey! Who are they?”
Nurse Gribble turned. “Them? That’s The Amazing Ray and his glamorous assistant, Vince. They’re heading down to the children’s ward to do one of their regular magic shows.”
“Real magic?”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing. They do some good conjuring tricks, though. They’re better than that mime artist, anyway.”
“What mime artist?”
“I don’t know. I asked him his name once, but he just remained silent.”
Downie forced himself out of bed.
“You shouldn’t get up yet,” said Nurse Gribble. “You had a nasty stab. The police will want to speak to you.”
“Got to... find... Ricbayer.”
“Rick?” said the Nurse. “Is that his name? There was a second injured guy they dropped off at the same time. Lost a lot of blood. Not sure if he’s going to pull through.”
“WHERE IS HE?”
Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. The machine beside his head counted the heartbeats, one by one.
“Ricbayer!” said Downie to the sleeping man. “You’ve got to wake up! Is it true that you can perform the Penultimate Counterspell? Tell me you still remember! Tell me you can undo what I did! I was wrong to try to get rid of Ray! I should have left things as they were!”
Two security guards burst into the room. They grabbed at Downie. He tried to leap like a salmon over their heads, but it didn’t work. Gravity refused to go easy on him. His Elvish privileges had been revoked. He crashed into a guard, and they began struggling together.
“Ricbayer!” shouted Downie again. His back felt damp; the stab-wound had reopened. There was a crash as the guards knocked him to the ground.
Ricbayer gave no response. From the machine came a new sound:
“Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...”
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I am in awe of this excellent piece of work! 
| “There was a fair maiden from Amon SûlWho fell madly in love with a Nazgûl.To this ancient witch-king,She said, “Give me a ring!You’re a wraith, but at least you’ll be faithful!” |
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Fantastic!
Great job, Matt!
 
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That's excellent writing Matthew. Thanks for posting it.  
  
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Well, the thread had been dead for three days. It needed something big.
Apologies to the various players/alter egos I insulted for the sake of my own amusement.
Apologies to readers who don't remember all the earlier Fellowship stories that I referenced there. That's probably everyone.
Apologies to readers who hate LotR geekism. For example, Amon Sûl, aka Weathertop, is quite an appropriate setting for that tragic lament - it was a stronghold overthrown by the forces of Angmar, which is where the chief Nazgul came from. (I do not memorise this stuff; it was just the first place name I found that rhymed.)
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