Beyond the Light - Vhaeraunite HymnI who wait beyond the lightI shall be the Hand of Night(All masks be one'til day be done)See webs torn and webs unmadeEnded by the Shadow's Blade(Their plots undoneThe web unspun)Blades in hand we stand and fightNight Above is ours by right(A Maskéd OneShall fear no sun)By our faith let shadows riseOver all beneath the skies(His will be doneFor we are one.)
Did He Not Come HereFëanor asks it of all of them. Each new soul to walk within the Halls of Mandos is sought out and given his questions. He is brilliant and he is driven, and not knowing is a thing he cannot bear.Even those who've had no cause to wish him well answer when they see the look in his eyes, the need to know the answer to his questions."Where is Macalaurë, also called Maglor? How fares my son?"Always, they do not know. And always, always, they look to Maedhros as they ask, "Did he not come here with you?"
Watcher - a Mazarun and Rantel taleWatcherRantelRantel has grown accustomed, more or less, to having his hearing back. He no longer needs to watch a speaker, to read their words from the movements of their mouth.He watches Mazarun anyway. He watches Mazarun's lips shape each word. He watches Mazarun's hands, slender and graceful, as they add qualifying gestures to clarify whatever he's saying.They got into the habit of signing their conversations and they've never entirely fallen out of it; even a spoken exchange is enhanced by signs that modify the meanings of what is said. Rantel prefers it that way; so many of the subtleties of signed speech are conveyed in the face and the body that it requires close attention. There is a connection there, an understanding that comes only with this kind of careful reading.He doesn't have to face a speaker anymore, but he still appreciates the light touch on the arm with which Mazarun draws his attention before speaking. It's a gesture of such long standing that it
Mazarun Character Sheet for ContestName: Mazarun Zothyrr.Age: In his eighties – looks the equivalent of a human of eighteen.Species: Drow.Height: 5'5".Eyes: Red.Hair: White.Skin: Jet-black.Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.Class: Fighter 6/Wizard 2/Warblade 2.Appearance: Mazarun has a slim build, wiry of muscle rather than bulky. His face is sharp-featured, and delicate to the point of seeming almost feminine, with high cheekbones, a high forehead, and a pointed chin. Thin brows rise upward somewhat at the outer ends, over long-lashed red eyes, tilted upward at the corners in the elven fashion. His face is framed by two locks of hair that reach his collar-bones in length, while the rest of his hair comes to his waist. His back is marked by thin scars, hard to see from any great distance – lines, all at different diagonal, vertical and horizontal angles, always in parallel pairs – the marks of a snake-headed whip.Gear: Mazarun tends to dress
StormtrooperA sentinel stands readyA man armoured in whiteA silent solemn figureOn guard against the night.(He's young, so youngAnd his world was poorHe'd never hadThis much food before.)The helmet is forbiddingA stern and mighty maskIt makes him one of manyAll doing the same task.(He's not paid muchOr so some would sayBut those back homeWill not starve, today.)Imperial enforcerFor his Emperor's lawsResolute and unflinchingDevoted to the cause.(They told him thingsA rallying cryThey taught him thatAll Rebels must die.)Together they are facelessAn endless stream of menOne falls? He's but a numberA place to fill again.(He's young, so youngAnd he won't get oldFor lies, he'll dieDoing what he's told.)
A Drow In ColoursSeaspray and silverMoonlight and snowLong shining locksRipple and flow.Onyx and midnightShadow and jetDark lips are smilingSubtly in threat.Coral and rubiesBlood and the roseEyes full of secretsOnly he knows.