The One Ring - The Fellowship of the Stone
It is the year 2965 of the Third Age, in the vast reaches of Middle Earth's northern realms, a growing darkness stirs once more. Two decades past, a coalition of Elves, Men, and Dwarves stood united against a horde of Orcs and Wild Wolves, beneath skies shadowed by Giant Bats, ushering in an era of fleeting peace for the Free Peoples. But peace is a fragile companion, easily shattered by the encroaching shadows that now claw hungrily across the continent.
Whispers abound in every corner of Middle Earth, tales of unsettling occurrences beyond the borders of civilization spreading like wildfire. Though dismissed by many as mere folklore, these whispers find keen ears among restless defenders, intrepid scholars, wandering messengers, and seekers of ancient treasures.
Amidst these murmurs, a rumor takes root and spreads like smoke through the halls of inns and taverns—a rumor of a rediscovered Ring of Power. Yet amid this intrigue, a new tale unfolds slowly, one that promises to reshape Middle Earth once more. Unbeknownst to them, a fellowship begins to coalesce, drawn together by a common quest to uncover the mysteries surrounding a mysterious stone recently discovered in the distant south—a stone that carries with it a spreading illness and the ominous stirrings of dark forces lurking along the river Anduin, now creeping northward.
A century has passed since the last plague blighted the North, reducing once-thriving towns to forsaken ruins, their names lost to the annals of time. The Fell Flood, an ancient cataclysm that reshaped the land, washed away much of what once stood, birthing anew a land scarred by its cleansing waters. For the people of the North, whispers of a new sickness stir unease, portending a looming threat that could alter their world once again.
Whispers abound in every corner of Middle Earth, tales of unsettling occurrences beyond the borders of civilization spreading like wildfire. Though dismissed by many as mere folklore, these whispers find keen ears among restless defenders, intrepid scholars, wandering messengers, and seekers of ancient treasures.
Amidst these murmurs, a rumor takes root and spreads like smoke through the halls of inns and taverns—a rumor of a rediscovered Ring of Power. Yet amid this intrigue, a new tale unfolds slowly, one that promises to reshape Middle Earth once more. Unbeknownst to them, a fellowship begins to coalesce, drawn together by a common quest to uncover the mysteries surrounding a mysterious stone recently discovered in the distant south—a stone that carries with it a spreading illness and the ominous stirrings of dark forces lurking along the river Anduin, now creeping northward.
A century has passed since the last plague blighted the North, reducing once-thriving towns to forsaken ruins, their names lost to the annals of time. The Fell Flood, an ancient cataclysm that reshaped the land, washed away much of what once stood, birthing anew a land scarred by its cleansing waters. For the people of the North, whispers of a new sickness stir unease, portending a looming threat that could alter their world once again.
And, to the south………
The morning mist clings to the shoreline, shrouding the scene in an eerie silence. On the sands near the town of Pelargir, once-proud merchant schooner lies beached, its grandeur now a ghostly silhouette against the grey horizon. The ship's masts, once reaching for the sky with regal pride, now stand broken and splintered, pointing at odd angles like the skeletal remains of some great sea beast. The sails hang in tatters, shredded by violent winds, fluttering feebly in the soft breeze like the remnants of a tragic tale.
The hull of the ship bears the scars of its final, desperate battle against the sea. Wooden planks are splintered and cracked, some hanging precariously by a few stubborn nails. The ship’s bow, which had once cut through waves with effortless grace, is now lodged deep into the sand, as if the ocean itself had cast it ashore in a fit of rage.
Approaching the ship, the townsfolk of Pelargir find themselves whispering in hushed tones, as if afraid to disturb the stillness. The absence of life aboard the vessel is palpable. No sailors scurry about to tend to the ship's wounds, no shouts of orders or cries of distress fill the air. The lifeboats, which should have been the vessel's salvation, are conspicuously missing, leaving behind an unsettling mystery.
A closer inspection reveals the full extent of the abandonment. Ropes swing idly from the rigging, untended and frayed. The deck is eerily silent, devoid of the usual bustling activity of a crew. Barrels and crates, once securely fastened, lie strewn about haphazardly, their contents spilling onto the weathered planks. The ship's wheel spins slowly, creaking mournfully with the slightest gust of wind, as if searching for a helmsman to guide it once more.
As the townsfolk move cautiously around the beached giant, a sense of unease settles over them. Where did the crew go? What fate befell those who had once sailed this majestic vessel? The questions hang heavy in the salty air, unanswered and unsettling, as the schooner remains a silent testament to a voyage that ended in mystery and despair.
Among the curious onlookers, a lone figure separates from the group. His eyes dart about, ensuring no one is watching too closely. As he moves toward the ship, his pace quickens, and with a furtive glance over his shoulder, he disappears into the dark maw of the hold. Moments later, he emerges, struggling under the weight of a weathered chest. The townsfolk, still absorbed in the eerie spectacle of the beached ship, fail to notice his hasty departure.
With the chest securely in his grasp, the man slips away, the weight of his newfound prize contrasting sharply with the lightness in his step. He vanishes into the mist, leaving behind the schooner and its secrets, now one mystery richer and one answer poorer.
The morning mist clings to the shoreline, shrouding the scene in an eerie silence. On the sands near the town of Pelargir, once-proud merchant schooner lies beached, its grandeur now a ghostly silhouette against the grey horizon. The ship's masts, once reaching for the sky with regal pride, now stand broken and splintered, pointing at odd angles like the skeletal remains of some great sea beast. The sails hang in tatters, shredded by violent winds, fluttering feebly in the soft breeze like the remnants of a tragic tale.
The hull of the ship bears the scars of its final, desperate battle against the sea. Wooden planks are splintered and cracked, some hanging precariously by a few stubborn nails. The ship’s bow, which had once cut through waves with effortless grace, is now lodged deep into the sand, as if the ocean itself had cast it ashore in a fit of rage.
Approaching the ship, the townsfolk of Pelargir find themselves whispering in hushed tones, as if afraid to disturb the stillness. The absence of life aboard the vessel is palpable. No sailors scurry about to tend to the ship's wounds, no shouts of orders or cries of distress fill the air. The lifeboats, which should have been the vessel's salvation, are conspicuously missing, leaving behind an unsettling mystery.
A closer inspection reveals the full extent of the abandonment. Ropes swing idly from the rigging, untended and frayed. The deck is eerily silent, devoid of the usual bustling activity of a crew. Barrels and crates, once securely fastened, lie strewn about haphazardly, their contents spilling onto the weathered planks. The ship's wheel spins slowly, creaking mournfully with the slightest gust of wind, as if searching for a helmsman to guide it once more.
As the townsfolk move cautiously around the beached giant, a sense of unease settles over them. Where did the crew go? What fate befell those who had once sailed this majestic vessel? The questions hang heavy in the salty air, unanswered and unsettling, as the schooner remains a silent testament to a voyage that ended in mystery and despair.
Among the curious onlookers, a lone figure separates from the group. His eyes dart about, ensuring no one is watching too closely. As he moves toward the ship, his pace quickens, and with a furtive glance over his shoulder, he disappears into the dark maw of the hold. Moments later, he emerges, struggling under the weight of a weathered chest. The townsfolk, still absorbed in the eerie spectacle of the beached ship, fail to notice his hasty departure.
With the chest securely in his grasp, the man slips away, the weight of his newfound prize contrasting sharply with the lightness in his step. He vanishes into the mist, leaving behind the schooner and its secrets, now one mystery richer and one answer poorer.