Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplays/@comment-26237442-20161209174031/@comment-25606723-20170114022625

Nothing happens. The remaining elves, disorganized and leaderless, begin to run. Typically in groups led by a minor officer, elves retreat into the depths of Utumno via small secret passages and hidden gates to arm various small subfortresses that last saw extensive wartime use in the Deepwar.

A small party of elves come out of the darkness, about twenty strong, waving a white flag.

Tybereous sits at the pinnacle of Utumno, a flat octagon one hundred yards in diameter with no guardrails, thousands of feet in the air. The great summit is protected from the elements by old magic, back from when Morgoth's sharp-eyed lookouts used it to watch the world. A smaller octagon set in the middle of the tower, about 10 yards in diameter and raised two feet above the surface, has the remains of what might have been an ancient chair. He can hear the cries of orcs below. He closes his eyes. ''I wonder how long it'll take him... hah. Hope it's quick. I'm ready to leave this Valar-damned fortress...''