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The returning of dark forces from Nethandranork

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*Off in the western regions of Bolimeir a new shadow grows upon a much older and deep-rooted evil than to show amongst the ash that still lay from its misty mountains once of great and bold trees but now of charred hillsides and hollers, before the time of the last honored alliance consisting of both Men and Elves far from the east and west. Now clouds of black return withering the skys, belching bitter rains upon the land of Nethandranork. Old stone ruins once of mighty armies held by the dark lord but now in waste showing their deep holes into the ground hidden from the outside but easily seen from the Skylands. Borders rest around Nethandranork of great walls built for the dark lord and his lands of metal and stone spiking up within an empty space knowing he was defeated more than age ago. Snags hang high but curve their branches downwards unbreathing of the rusted winds catching spare dust from the grounds moving with the direction of the gales casting themselves upon curved down hillsides lacking any green life. Depthing into the holes of the ruins passages several lefts and rights heading into more various directions of black a room of low but gaping darkness held from the sky only perceived from small glints of the hidden sun. Suddenly the eyes of a young-looking warrior open showing their formidable gaze of ice now dimmed down too the cold alter withholding many cracks and fallen pieces of grey stone and craving. The warrior’s long and flowing blond hair of rivering spring was spread across the stone slap cracked on the ends from age. Jerking up his body, arms stretched out the farthest trying to break the chains but cohesion had given his mind a knowledge of weakness lingering pridefully through his body.*; What is this, leave me you binds; *Fyzenguard yells gritting his teeth in overwhelming confusion as he struggles jerking left to right only too find himself mortally weak and feebleminded. His interests were dulling and falling until a slight whisper coursed itself through the room. A whisper is loud but quite damp as it bounces from each wall coming back until suddenly the whisper was no more dulled piercing into a gloom. Fyzenguard lifting his head and jerking increasingly to the chain still no success had come as sudden fire erupts from a gaping passage of a withering gate showing of red lands. Fyzenguard yells could not be heard feeling a power beyond his own knowledge he was already weak and drained of his strength. The whisper only grew until the words rumbled and shooken the room in malevolency as the words came clearly but witheringly into the room from the passage engulfed and shooting out of flames*  ; Son of Finrod…; *Suddenly from the fire came closer of these lands spitting of smoke showing the casted shadow of the echo pulsing back of shadow and smoke. The shrieking heeds from the gaping passage as then show a figure of black taller within more malevolence then any man could bear. Fyzenguard eyes widen in fear to this figure as he stands within nobody but armor blackened around a dark cloak. The helmet of the figure shaped almost in a crown as it presses its hand from the gate like a portal. Fyzengaurd terrified knew there too be no escape watching the black figure slowly enter this existence with steam rising from his body. Slowly the tall figure walks around the alter which rested Fyzenguard chained upon until the shriek came again making Fyzenguard yell and scream in pain wanting too cover his ears as then the figure placed its broad large hand upon the hilt of a hidden sword pulling it out from it’s hidden domain underneath its black robes. The sword catches aflame from the air spitting sparks out as suddenly the creature stood above Fyzenguard pressing the sword of fire into his chest.* ; NOOO! Ahhhhh; *Continuing the day would be withholding the screams of the warrior feeling the fire of the sword upon his skin scaring his chest with the fate of the runes. The runes upon Fyzenguard’s chest glow of red as the voice then shrieks saying* “Once of the child born is once of the returning. Seen but lost through the age now becoming of sith. Becoming of the child is the signaling of the age” *Still, his screams could be heard but only by the dark figure and his dark spawn of shadow flying from the passage of fire and back into Nethandranork And the world. Months after would only show the young warrior torture of an unkidiling kind not known too man or mortal.

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