The Epic of The Black Beast's Blade. The Fellowship continues

[ShahofTennis]

The heavens dared not move and create shift in the night. Celestial bodies which emitted and reflected the wisdom of Eons past even now could not fathom its rage. Perhaps they sought the greater good of the nocturnal kingdom, and so with folly-thought they held still hoping to stay the beast. That fire, burning as violently as the stars in the night and staying as intense as the luminous moons juxtaposition in the black expanse above it. That fire, which boiled the blood in its core, burned even hotter on this night. Who can say why, or give credence to its origin? Such malevolence hath no spawn and so it would likely have no end.


The Shah walked on wearily through a valley like the many others he hiked, he found himself lost in the jaggedness of his own lamentation, there was little in the dreary landscape of mordor that phased him. Having no sword meant he possessed no home. The thought of the Prostaff's incompletion beared heavily upon his shoulders as he cursed himself over his foolishness. He approached the edge of a forest, the wind from the valley, which traveled like waves rushing downstream ceased immediately. The Shah felt it too, this forest held something that dared not be disturbed.


"Who goes there?" asked a burley voice. A Dwarf emerged from behind an outpost amidst the rock, or at least what remained of an outpost. "You men, always wandering aboot, sticking yer bare arses in every cranny you wander near. Well this corner o' the world ain't too welcoomin to ambitious folk like yerself. No sir, you'd best leave this place alone if ya got any mind in ya."


The Shah, who barely caught what the scruffy Dwarf had said, attempted to reassure the dwarf that he had no desire to go into the brush.


"What's a fello like yerself doing out here anyhow? We'd ought to git some rest and some ale in us whilst... whilst... eh, pardon me." The dwarf said as he looked around with squinted eyes. "Oh dear" he said as he looked around and began sizing up the Shah. "No, a shame really. T'was a pleasure being the last to see you alive." He said as he ran to the outpost in ruin, and jumped into a recessed crevice in the ground which he covered with a boulder attached to a rope he pulled.

Before such an odd transpiration of events could be processed by the weary weekend warrior a deep growl emanated from the forest. The Shah's hairs stood on edge, lush grass beneath his feet decayed from the malicious growl hidden in the thickets. From the brush emerged a beast, its body was blacker than an oily sea. The beast looked upon the Shah with the eyes of a serpent.

"Aah a rare hunt indeed, usually one expects men in your predicament to abandon hope, but you seem to be one whom it has abandoned. I cannot say this doesn't amuse me. I must question fate if you have infact been brought before me to die. A man like you, unbound to the lies of the world. Your potential could be limitless."

The Shah looked at the beast then, flight was the first thought that came to mind, though he knew better. He involuntarily shot a glance to the ruins.

"The dwarf, I smelled him not too long ago. Yes, dwarven magic it was. Such a silly incantation it was, but alas it has trapped me in amongst these acursed trees. I have wasted years in this forest, entrusted to a foolish dwarf that could not use me" The beast shook its head then and looked upon the Shah. It charged then, but the Shah was no weakling. Being adept at footwork, the Shah had little trouble gliding past the beasts's strikes.

"Wait, are you a dwarvish weapon?(Prince Racquet)" asked the Shah.

"THE MIGHTIEST DWARVISH WEAPON! I AM TEXTRALAGOTH! he bellowed as he lunged forward. The Shah knew then what this meant for him. A second chance, redemption perhaps. He did not waiver as the beast descended then, he extended his hand forward into the throat of the airborn beast.

"It seems you may reach your potential yet, very well, you shall switch to me." In an instant the beast morphed into what is to be known as the Black Beasts Blade.

Moments later the dwarf emerged from the ruin and surveyed the Shah with the Black Beasts Blade in hand.

"I suppose you aren't very well going to stay for supper, I made stew." The Shah smiled. And so a new epic within Mordor ensues.

Thanks for Reading.

 

[KarmaKorps]

I enjoyed this (first two paragraphs were especially brilliant!). Let us know how the beast and you get along. I almost demo'd one (er, I mean ventured afar to said place) prior to buying a couple of Graphene Rad Pros, recently.

 

[SpinToWin]

......... I feel ashamed to have to ask.... Blade or Textreme 95?

 

[edman9898]

So you switched to a Blade or Textreme? You've got waaaaaayy too much time on your hands!!!!

 

[ShahofTennis]

......... I feel ashamed to have to ask.... Blade or Textreme 95?

TeXtreme 95, no need to feel ashamed.

So you switched to a Blade or Textreme? You've got waaaaaayy too much time on your hands!!!!

Was writing a rather bland lab report final. Did this to spruce things up a bit.

 

[SpinToWin]

TeXtreme 95, no need to feel ashamed.

Was writing a rather bland lab report final. Did this to spruce things up a bit.

Ah lab reports…. The bane of human wit and creativity. I can relate

 

[mavsman149]

You wrote about a black beast blade but you didn't go with the Blade and a Prince instead? That is textremely disappointing.

 

[SpinToWin]

You wrote about a black beast blade but you didn't go with the Blade and a Prince instead? That is textremely disappointing.

I snorted in approval, well done sir

Your wit is sharp like a Blade

 

[ShahofTennis]

For those in need of knowledge, elves are using enchanted Wilsons, as they require easy touch and finesse.

The race of men, being the weakest, are brave enough to use the powerful Babolats, to compensate.

Prince and Dunlop weapons are used by the brave races of ancient dwarfs and ents.

Obviously, the Head sticks are enchanted and used by the tormented slaves of Mordor, fallen from the brave folks of the past. One just have to glaze over Lord Djokovic and its minions, orcs like Simon and shrieking banshees such as the queen of dead Sharapova, to reckon the truth of this story.

There are scattered heroes and sorcerers, with allegiance to no-one but themselves, which use rare gems like Yonnex. Brave and kind, but lonely.

Much can be told! Stay safe!

You wrote about a black beast blade but you didn't go with the Blade and a Prince instead? That is textremely disappointing.

"Beast" is a Prince trademark. If I named a Wilson Blade, I would probably use a reference to Dark Elves. @Bogdan_TT is clearly the expert on Middle Earth Racquet User Demographics here, take it up with him.

 

[Bogdan_TT]

"Beast" is a Prince trademark. If I named a Wilson Blade, I would probably use a reference to Dark Elves. @Bogdan_TT is clearly the expert on Middle Earth Racquet User Demographics here, take it up with him.

I'm just a lonely wizard entrusted with an Angell staff.

 

[Bogdan_TT]

<dark double post magic happened here>

 

[smalahove]

Noice.

How have you modded them?
Mine are just shy of 350g strung, 12 pt HL and a SW of about 330-335. Absolutely no issues with lack of plow.

 

[beltsman]

I must know, what is the love affair with the Blade about?

 

[ShahofTennis]

Noice.

How have you modded them?
Mine are just shy of 350g strung, 12 pt HL and a SW of about 330-335. Absolutely no issues with lack of plow.

I handed them over to a competant forge, as we speak they are hard at work. My specifications to them were 350g strung, 340SW, and 10pts HL.

 

[ShahofTennis]

I must know, what is the love affair with the Blade about?

The Dark Elves have an issue with Trademarks

 

[ShahofTennis]

The mistress that is the open night air reached down from the depths of that starry black abyss. With what was now her icy grip and no longer a warm embrace; she wished to ensnare a companion. For it was as though she became as disobedient as she was cold. In her summer embrace the way she'd frollick about was inviting in its vibrancy and energy, but the same movements in her winter ensnarement seemed sinister with cruelty and sickness. Her friends stayed in their homes now gathered around the hearth being merry amongst themselves, having all but forgotten about a great friend left to wait in her court. She would wait for her companions to return as do birds returning to spring.

And so it was icy air that danced about the Shah, a coldness which so greedily took the warmth that filled his cheek. The Black Beasts Blade in tow, the Shah met with a man weilding the Dark Elves' Hammer(Blade 98). Simulating battle they contested 3 sets. The Shah won 3-6, 6-4, 6-2. The Shah felt the Beast taking control from him over the course of the match for the blade began to respond erratically by the time the duel was over. It was about time the Shah paid a visit to Celebrimbors Forge of 5 Stars to tame the beast with XC16L.

 

[ShahofTennis]

T'was a faithful evening indeed in the markets of Mordor. The Shah was searching for silks treacherously harvested from the ancient nests of Ungoliant. Such silk, which the great Spider wove were reveared for their comfort, and tackiness and so the Shah searched for them going from tent to tent inquiring about the quality items. The Shah approached the more downtrodden of stands that were already worse for wear, and spoke to its shop keeper. A shadowy figure: the shop keeper wrapped herself tightly with a dreadful cloth, all but her eyes remained visible through a slit in the fabric which covered even her head.

"Silks woven by Ungoliant herself, it seems that those who meddle with malice cannot resist continuing in such ways." says the cloaked woman. Her piercing eyes investigate the Shah, and appear to find another subject at which to stare upon, as if the Shah no longer requested her attention. Textralagoth stirs in the Shah's bag as the woman speaks words wiser than what normal eyes alone could deduce from the Shah.

"If you are aware of what I seek then tell me Peredhil(half elf); Have you, of all merchants here, any in your stores?" The Shah asks.

"Oh but of course I do, but this is such an age where men on exciting paths are hard to come by. Even with the precarious venture of owning a shop in the markets of Mordor I still have yet to truly emerse myself, even if but only for a moment, in matters of fear and adventure. I will offer something complementary as well, no, lets say you must procure what I offer before the silks are offered".

"What would you have me buy along with an already expensive material scarce to Middle Earth?" the Shah asks.

"Something perhaps far more inviting of danger. Accuse me of being vicarious too if you will, but I wish to remove something from my possession if you would have it." The woman hastily went into her stores and returned with a wooden chest, engraved upon it was the crest belonging to the House of Anárion. She opened the chest and removed from it several black plates, they looked to be scales, and placed them on the table so as to barter away more than what the silk was worth.

"I don't know what these are, and I can assure you I have no use for them." The Shah started.

"These are the shattered scales of the greatest drake(Dragon) ever to have existed. You know of him only from tale's told to you as a babe, but if you seek the silk of Ungoliant then you might too find value in these. The scales of the great dragon Ancalagon, scales dislodged by my ancestor; Eärendil's finishing blow upon the drake." The Shah looked at the scales then, heavy and black as the night, these scales may have very well covered the body of Ancalagon."

"Why give them away for free then? Surely you would do well for yourself by offering such relics to kings and lords. Why offer such things to me?" The Shah asks.

"I should call it an old yearning if nothing else. I wished to walk the valleys and plains and find adventure. I thought that with precious silks and scales in tow, I could sell and make paths for myself to my next adventure. At this point I'd like nothing more than to return to Gondor, and return to my family. With every failed day in Mordor, I long further for Aman. I would like to be rid of such things upon my return as I have outgrown my youth. I will leave you these scales as I too, being but a shell of my youth, leave passions long dead to their graves here in Mordor."

The Shah looks upon Ancalagons scales examining them as he turns them over. "Alright, I reckon these can be fashioned into cap grommets. It seems I'll even be able to restore my fathers blades." The Shah says with a newfound excitement to the rare scales.

"Your father, Shah. I've heard stories of a Shah before you, and a blade which struck terror into the hearts of his enemies. A blade that whistled to the tune of terror itself. A blade left crimson by the many battles its wielder claimed victory from. You speak of none other than the Blood Whip." The Shah was entranced by the half-elfs eloquence in speech, if only for a fleeting moment. "My stores of silk and these scales can all be yours for 500 gold."

"I didn't rob Smaug you know!" Exclaims the Shah. Needless to say, the Shah paid, and the half-elf left Mordor for her family home in Gondor.

 

[SpinToWin]

T'was a faithful evening indeed in the markets of Mordor. The Shah was searching for silks treacherously harvested from the ancient nests of Ungoliant. Such silk, which the great Spider wove were reveared for their comfort, and tackiness and so the Shah searched for them going from tent to tent inquiring about the quality items. The Shah approached the more downtrodden of stands that were already worse for wear, and spoke to its shop keeper. A shadowy figure: the shop keeper wrapped herself tightly with a dreadful cloth, all but her eyes remained visible through a slit in the fabric which covered even his head.

"Silks woven by Ungoliant herself, it seems that those who meddle with malice cannot resist continuing in such ways." says the cloaked woman. Her piercing eyes investigate the Shah, and appear to find another subject at which to stare upon, as if the Shah no longer requested her attention. Textralagoth stirs in the Shah's bag as the woman speaks words wiser than what normal eyes alone could deduce from the Shah.

"If you are aware of what I seek then tell me Peredhil(half elf); Have you, of all merchants here, any in your stores?" The Shah asks.

"Oh but of course I do, but this is such an age where men on exciting paths are hard to come by. Even with the precarious venture of owning a shop in the markets of Mordor I still have yet to truly emerse myself, even if but only for a moment, in matters of fear and adventure. I will offer something complementary as well, no, lets say you must procure what I offer before the silks are offered".

"What would you have me buy along with an already expensive material scarce to Middle Earth?" the Shah asks.

"Something perhaps far more inviting of danger. Accuse me of being vicarious too if you will, but I wish to remove something from my possession if you would have it." The woman hastily went into her stores and returned with a wooden chest, engraved upon it was the crest belonging to the House of Anárion. She opened the chest and removed from it several black plates, they looked to be scales, and placed them on the table so as to barter away more than what the silk was worth.

"I don't know what these are, and I can assure you I have no use for them." The Shah started.

"These are the shattered scales of the greatest drake(Dragon) ever to have existed. You know of him only from tale's told to you as a babe, but if you seek the silk of Ungoliant then you might too find value in these. The scales of the great dragon Ancalagon, scales dislodged by my ancestor; Eärendil's finishing blow upon the drake." The Shah looked at the scales then, heavy and black as the night, these scales may have very well covered the body of Ancalagon."

"Why give them away for free then? Surely you would do well for yourself by offering such relics to kings and lords. Why offer such things to me?" The Shah asks.

"I should call it an old yearning if nothing else. I wished to walk the valleys and plains and find adventure. I thought that with precious silks and scales in tow, I could sell and make paths for myself to my next adventure. At this point I'd like nothing more than to return to Gondor, and return to my family. With every failed day in Mordor, I long further for Aman. I would like to be rid of such things upon my return as I have outgrown my youth. I will leave you these scales as I too, being but a shell of my youth, leave passions long dead to their graves here in Mordor."

The Shah looks upon Ancalagons scales examining them as he turns them over. "Alright, I reckon these can be fashioned into cap grommets. It seems I'll even be able to restore my fathers blades." The Shah says with a newfound excitement to the rare scales.

"Your father, Shah. I've heard stories of a Shah before you, and a blade which struck terror into the hearts of his enemies. A blade that whistled to the tune of terror itself. A blade left crimson by the many battles its wielder claimed victory from. You speak of none other than the Blood Whip." The Shah was entranced by the half-elfs eloquence in speech, if only for a fleeting moment. "My stores of silk and these scales can all be yours for 500 gold."

"I didn't rob Smaug you know!" Exclaims the Shah. Needless to say, the Shah paid, and the half-elf left Mordor for her family home in Gondor.

Two questions:

1) how many books have you written?



2) where the bloody hell can I buy them?

 

[ShahofTennis]

Two questions:

1) how many books have you written?



2) where the bloody hell can I buy them?

I've got about 2 dozen incomplete short stories and an incomplete novel in the form of a 200+ page word doc. Will I ever finish them and put them out to be published? Maybe after I find a job after Grad school or something.

 

[ShahofTennis]

The Shah hopped off the horse drawn carriage and went around the back of the cart to collect his luggage that he had recently purchased from the markets of Mordor. When he set them down inside his home he began to rifle through the contents first pulling out the silks of Ungoliant, and then the black scales of Ancalagon. To his surprise he found what would be a third artifact given to him by the half elf. He looked upon the parchment detailing the content of the sale in both price and quantity of items sold, but found no evidence of this third item being sold to him. 500 gold seemed rather steep to the Shah for silk and scales despite their rarity, but this third item may have also been secretly included in her price. While generous, this half-elf was not a very good salesman. All he found which may explain the presence of this third item was a note. It read:

"Shah, it is of no mystery to me that you seek vengeance in Mordor, but to exact revenge in Mordor means that you must dominate Mordor. For the very foes whom you seek vengeance against rule this land with the might of sword. The Black Beast; I am sure will be of use to you in this venture, but he can be just as detrimental. Luckily for you I have also included Elvish rope's which were fashioned by my elvish ancestors. These bindings will allow you greater dominion over the Black Beast or any blade you wish to bind in your allegiance. May the starlight illuminate your path."

The Shah observed the rope, it brimmed with energy between his fingers.

"I never did like her." Grunted the Beast.

 

[ShahofTennis]

Winter is coming, fortunately for the Shah he had gained acceptance and thus a shelter in the cave's of both the Tarheel and Wolfpack. The Shah had everything he needed in these abodes, a work-space with which to forge and repair his blades, as well as arena's built within the shelters where he could hone his skills over the harsh winter season. Tonight the Shah hurried to the Tarheel's cave, for he had come across valuable items in the Markets of Mordor. The first, and perhaps most spectacular procurement was a Blade forged by Shamans who belonged to the various tribes of the Easterlings, a people who for a many ages held allegiance to Sauron. The merchant who sold it to the Shah was very keen to remove the Blade from his stores, as it would no doubt mean trouble if a great sword belonging to Variag's(A confederation of particularly nasty Easterlings) were to be found in his possession).

"That Blade there" The Shah began, "I did not know you dealt with blades forged by Easterlings-"

"Shhhh! keep your voice down. At this point it should be of no surprise to you if you're ever to come across dubious wares in here, honestly, sometimes I suspect that you intend to have me found out!" The Shah laughed while gazing upon the Blade, it sat there in a sheet of what was either Gold, Brass, or Bronze, metals of a color that the Easterlings favored greatly. "You are correct this is a blade forged by the, well, the Variags!" the merchant said while switching to a whisper to finish what he was saying.

"Variags? The last I heard of them they were wiped out alongside the Wainrider's during the Battle of Pelennor Fields. What is one of their Swords doing here?" The Shah asked. The merchant looked sternly at the Shah.

"That blade, It belonged to Khamûl, the ruler of the Lands of Rhûn and one of the eventual Ringwraiths. Its no light matter for this sword to be here, it belonged to a Lord of the Nazgûl, even if he only held that position for a short time."

"Then for the sake of your health, it should be no light matter selling it to me".

"You cannot be serious! It is unheard of for a mortal to wield a blade belonging to a Ringwraith!"

"Do you wish to be rid of this or not? You wouldn't me leaving here and express my frustrations over not getting this blade at the local pub would you?"

"Say no more" started the Merchant signalling the Shah to stop talking. The Shah walked up to the counter with the Blade and its gold(or a similarly colored metal) embroidery and placed $90(Using USD in order to limit confusion in what is already a story containing content from LOTR ) on the counter. "You know you're quite the crude customer for taking advantage of my disposition. Nonetheless, I am glad that I could get this off my hands quickly, truth be told I would have let it go for a lot less".

"Is that so?" The Shah asked as he looked at the merchant, and then around the shop.

"Oh dear..." said the merchant, It appears I have just as much of a problem with running my mouth as you do. The Shah walked about the store looking for other items that could possibly be of use to him. Out of the corner of the Shah's eyes, he spotted green ropes. "Ah yes, enchanted ropes specially designed to restrain Textralagoth by the Elves, Those I can sell to you fo-"

"$60" interrupted the Shah.

"Are you mad?" The merchant exclaimed.

"You're a bit loud for someone with a blade of the Nazgûl in their possession." The Shah said.

"... Deal!" The merchant said as he angrily snatched the money from the counter. "Oh, and if you're still looking to take advantage of me, TAKE THIS TOO!"

The Shah left the markets that day with a powerful new tools in tow, as well as a few gifts the merchant graciously threw at him in a fit of rage.

 

[SinjinCooper]

That's the single ugliest piece of sporting equipment I've ever seen.

 

[ShahofTennis]

That's the single ugliest piece of sporting equipment I've ever seen.

I would agree, it doesn't look so hot.

 

[ShahofTennis]

Mordor burned in the pitch of the night, all that was to be heard was the thunderous boom of a drake's wings and all that could be seen was a black fire that held a striking contrast to the obsidian sky. A drake had not been seen for many years in Mordor, and to see a behemoth of this size now was no coincidence to the warriors of Mordor. The Shah watched from the gate of the Tarheel as the Drake thrashed about, he was to allow those seeking shelter entry into the cave until the threat of the fire-drake could be resolved. The attack had already continued into the night, and no end was in sight while civilians continued to shuffle into the corridors of the Tarheel Cave. Upon granting a certain individual entry, the Shah's nose caught something on this refugee's person.

"You there, why do you smell like ash and iron?" he asked as the asylum seeker stopped and turned around, he was young, and his clothes were tattered. The Shah approached him, "Been somewhere interesting lately?" he asked as he held out his hand so that the boy would turn over his bag to him. The Shah opened the bag and found a peculiar rope, one as black as the scales he had purchased for his fathers sword some time ago. As he held the rope, it dawned upon the Shah that the full scope of the situation was beyond dire. "Go deeper into the Cave! All of You!" The Shah yelled as he signaled another to help with the the asylum in his stead. The Shah ran down the corridors into the forges. Quickly grabbing his tools he began fastening the black ropes onto Khamûl's Blade. He grabbed Textralagoth's Blade, now fashioned with the green elvish ropes he had recently gotten from the markets, and took both Blades with him as he exited Tarheel's cave out into the blazing night. His comrade accompanied him out of the cave with his own weapon. A grand Blade fashioned by the Elves themselves, it enchanted with magic that made it denser than a young star yet as light as a feather in its masters hand.

"So what've we got?" asked the Shah's comrade.

"A drake, But not just any drake. See these here..." the Shah said as he held Khamûl's blade out for his comrade to see.

"It's as black as my own blade, what material is this?" his comrade asked.

"I believe it is Dragon skin, from a descendant of Ancalagon." said the Shah.

"You must be joking"

"I only wish I was, the boy in the Cave... he smelled of burning ash and smelted iron. There's only one place in all of Middle Earth that possesses Ash, Iron, Fire, and most importantly Drakes."

"You don't mean...?"

"The inferno-pits of Angband I'm afraid"

"Oi well that's just dandy, bring a Dragon to Mordor while your off stealing a dragons skin."

"I told you its not just any Drake, this Dragon attacking Mordor is a descendant of Ancalagon."

"You're just full of good news aren't ya? So how do we take this thing down?"

"Nothing a little Black Fire and a Beast can't handle". Says the Shah as he charges in for battle.

 

[bigdaddyps]

Wow. They're doing great things In mental health treatments these days.

 

[ShahofTennis]

Wow. They're doing great things In mental health treatments these days.

If you say so bud

 

[Bender]

The heavens dared not move and create shift in the night. Celestial bodies which emitted and reflected the wisdom of Eons past even now could not fathom its rage. Perhaps they sought the greater good of the nocturnal kingdom, and so with folly-thought they held still hoping to stay the beast. That fire, burning as violently as the stars in the night and staying as intense as the luminous moons juxtaposition in the black expanse above it. That fire, which boiled the blood in its core, burned even hotter on this night. Who can say why, or give credence to its origin? Such malevolence hath no spawn and so it would likely have no end.


The Shah walked on wearily through a valley like the many others he hiked, he found himself lost in the jaggedness of his own lamentation, there was little in the dreary landscape of mordor that phased him. Having no sword meant he possessed no home. The thought of the Prostaff's incompletion beared heavily upon his shoulders as he cursed himself over his foolishness. He approached the edge of a forest, the wind from the valley, which traveled like waves rushing downstream ceased immediately. The Shah felt it too, this forest held something that dared not be disturbed.


"Who goes there?" asked a burley voice. A Dwarf emerged from behind an outpost amidst the rock, or at least what remained of an outpost. "You men, always wandering aboot, sticking yer bare arses in every cranny you wander near. Well this corner o' the world ain't too welcoomin to ambitious folk like yerself. No sir, you'd best leave this place alone if ya got any mind in ya."


The Shah, who barely caught what the scruffy Dwarf had said, attempted to reassure the dwarf that he had no desire to go into the brush.


"What's a fello like yerself doing out here anyhow? We'd ought to git some rest and some ale in us whilst... whilst... eh, pardon me." The dwarf said as he looked around with squinted eyes. "Oh dear" he said as he looked around and began sizing up the Shah. "No, a shame really. T'was a pleasure being the last to see you alive." He said as he ran to the outpost in ruin, and jumped into a recessed crevice in the ground which he covered with a boulder attached to a rope he pulled.

Before such an odd transpiration of events could be processed by the weary weekend warrior a deep growl emanated from the forest. The Shah's hairs stood on edge, lush grass beneath his feet decayed from the malicious growl hidden in the thickets. From the brush emerged a beast, its body was blacker than an oily sea. The beast looked upon the Shah with the eyes of a serpent.

"Aah a rare hunt indeed, usually one expects men in your predicament to abandon hope, but you seem to be one whom it has abandoned. I cannot say this doesn't amuse me. I must question fate if you have infact been brought before me to die. A man like you, unbound to the lies of the world. Your potential could be limitless."

The Shah looked at the beast then, flight was the first thought that came to mind, though he knew better. He involuntarily shot a glance to the ruins.

"The dwarf, I smelled him not too long ago. Yes, dwarven magic it was. Such a silly incantation it was, but alas it has trapped me in amongst these acursed trees. I have wasted years in this forest, entrusted to a foolish dwarf that could not use me" The beast shook its head then and looked upon the Shah. It charged then, but the Shah was no weakling. Being adept at footwork, the Shah had little trouble gliding past the beasts's strikes.

"Wait, are you a dwarvish weapon?(Prince Racquet)" asked the Shah.

"THE MIGHTIEST DWARVISH WEAPON! I AM TEXTRALAGOTH! he bellowed as he lunged forward. The Shah knew then what this meant for him. A second chance, redemption perhaps. He did not waiver as the beast descended then, he extended his hand forward into the throat of the airborn beast.

"It seems you may reach your potential yet, very well, you shall switch to me." In an instant the beast morphed into what is to be known as the Black Beasts Blade.

Moments later the dwarf emerged from the ruin and surveyed the Shah with the Black Beasts Blade in hand.

"I suppose you aren't very well going to stay for supper, I made stew." The Shah smiled. And so a new epic within Mordor ensues.

Thanks for Reading.