S:
The world is shattered. I see it in the earth. I taste it in the water. I hear it in the air. More of once was is lost. The age ended with Sauron's victory. The Ring reunited with its dark master spelled the end of Free Lands of Middle-earth. Gondor was the first to fall. The towering white city was left a little more then a burning husk and stone layers. Rohan was quick to fall into shadow next. The vast horse lands razed and destroyed under the might of Sauron's war machine. With ring, mace, and magic, The Dark Lord continued to conquer all of the lands of Middle-earth.
The Dwarves were next to fall. Buried deep within in their mountains. They knew nothing of the turmoil outside. Two had suffered Moria's fate. Seiged and starved into a fatal surrendering. Months of fighting for so little gain did not appease The Master. The other four weren't so lucky. Using his vast magical knowledge. Sauron brought their mountains down as easy as one would push over a pile of dirt on a dead corpse. None of those within the once mighty halls were ever seen again. Such grand destruction made the land unstable. The once beautiful and majestic Misty Mountains collasped. Ripping the land in two and filling the new gap with a narrow sea
Only the elves escaped the enslavement under Sauron's power. Sensing the very moment The Ring had made it back to its master. They quickly began to sail back to Aman across the sea. Far from Sauron's reach. Abandoning Men to their fate. And for over two thousand years, his rule had remained uncontested. His vast empire ruled all before him. But his own creation, The Ring of Power, began to question its master. Was this really all that was left for its existence? To simply be an unused tool for him? The years marched on as The Ring grew more and more resentiful of its master. Until at last, it had felt something.
Far to the north. Deep in the forgotten lands of the First Age. An ancient power thought dead, began to stir. Black clouds bellowed forth in the north. Sailors grew wary of traveling near. Rumors were passed of what they could mean. Whispers and superstitions filled men with fear. And then the impossible happened. The One Ring betrayed its no longer worthy master. In a single night of smoke and fire, Mordor vanished in a massive explosion. Twisting the earth and forever chaging the map once more. By the next morning nothing as left of Sauron's main force and his symbol of power, The One Ring, were gone. Leaving the men of the New Freehold to finally embrace their own destiny.
C1: 275 AC: Thousands of Years later:
Dark blue eyes slowly opened with a soft groan. She didn't remember falling asleep in the tent she was now looking at the roof of. Actually she didn't remember falling asleep at all. She had been on the deck of the ship that was to bring her to Westeros so she could expand the teachings of her religion. Plus it would expand her horizons in the search of the 'Prince that was Promised'. She remembered that the weather had turned sour on the venture over the Narrow Sea. Her thoughts drifted to the memory of pitching waves, churning seas, thunder crashing. She turned her head to go below deck. When her world suddenly turned black.
A rustle at the tent entrance brought her attention back to the present. She quickly closed her eyes. Pretending to be still be out cold. She needed to learn if this person or people were truly helping her. Or just some male swine that wanted to use her body for their perverse pleasure. If it was that, then they better prepare for death for her god was not a meriful one when it came to revenge.
"Welcome to my home fleshling," an unearthly low voice growled out in her ears. It caught her by surprise as it felt like the ground itself was shaking as the voice spoke. Just where had she ended up? One of the unexplored lands prehaps? The voice intrupted her thoughts from going any futher. "I would apologize for interupting your trip, but that would be a lie. Arrange yourself and then come speak to me. We have much to discuss. It wouldn't be wise to make me wait for to long."
Melisandre frowned as she forced herself to sit up after the area stopped shaking from the being that brought her here. She was slightly surprised that nothing semed to be wounded. Even her dark red dress was in perfect order. Her fiery red hair was a mess, but expected due to her sleeping. As her left hand attempted to fix her bed hair, her right instantly went to her neck. Searching for and finding her most prized object. A simply golden choker with a bright red ruby in the center.
Exiting the tent, the red woman was greeted to a dimly lit skyline of heavly overcast clouds. Occasionally lighting arcs would streak across the clouds. causing brief bouts of illumination. The land was mostly desolate. Very little grass grew on the ground, and the trees were bare or even charred. Over a ridge to her left great clouts of smoke rose to feed the dark clouds overhead. Further powering the raging storms overhead. Turning her head to her right, she was presented a different sight. The sea and beach lay below her. A constant fog of steam seemed to bubble up from below the surface.
A wind suddenly blew into her face. Forcing her to turn her head back to the ridge line. After turning around she watched as the wind started to clear the layer of low steaming fog. It slowly began to reveal a series of earthen stone steps going up to the top of the ridge. It seemed this being was guiding her to where it was waiting. But where was it leading her? Who was this being? How far was her journey to meet them? These were questions that plagued her mind. Turning back she to her tent. Figuring that prehaps there were some supplies to hint at the length of her journey.
The tent she had just been sleeping in was gone.
She blinked, staring at where her shelter had been. Just what was going on here? Magic that could be freely used like this had long since vanished from the world. Not since the era of dragons had magic been used in such a common place fashion. That caused her to take a sudden pause and think even more seriously. A land of fire and ash was prime territory for a dragon. But no dragon as far as she knew had ever spoken. Not even Balerion, the oldest dragon of known record, had ever spoken. Could a dragon learn to speak? How old and powerful would one need to be? How big would have it grown?
"Come along now fleshling. Don't be shy." The booming voice called from the top of the steps. "Come and stand before me."
The Red Woman quickly returned to the task at hand. Climbing these oversized stone steps. The earth was a constant growing roar. As she climbed she noticed that not all of the rocks were rocks. She saw spearheads, broken swords, rusted armor pieces and various other pieces of a long over war.
"Just where am I?" She happen to wonder out loud. She thought it was only to herself. But the voice had heard her and spoke as she continued to climb the steps.
"You are in Dor Daedeloth fleshling, near the Haudh-en-Ndengin. At least, what remains of it that is. The end of The First Age was not a pleasent one." Rumbled the voice. It seemed to actually be delightled in answering her question. Such a tone only puzzled her more as to what this being was. Or where she was for that matter either.
"Forgive me great one." she replied, "I'm afraid you have me at a loss. For I am unfamilar with either of those names."
A brief silence was the response, "I find that very surprising fleshling. I figured the elves would teach all of man that. Or was there another war I wonder."
Finally she had reached the top of the stairs. The sight before the red prietess was both breathtaking and terrifying. A shallow sea laid before her. Its small rolling waves crashing into the shoreline on the other side. Beyond the shoreline was the three most massive mountains Melisandre had ever seen her long life. Not even the clouds and heavens could stop their accent. The clouds bent around the huge cones, nearly shrouding the tops of the mountains from view. And it was at the top she saw them. Large black smoke clouds pumped out from the top of all three peaks. Adding to an endlessly growing black mass over the summit of the mountains.
Melisandre paled slightly when she realised where this most likely was. There had been stories from the sailors in Braavos. Of large black clouds far to the north. The daring few who tried to venture closer to the ominous sight. Were never seen from again. If this forsaken land was truly the cause of the mysterious black clouds. Then there would be no way off of here. No one sailed anywhere near this place in fear for thier lives. One thing did puzzle her though now that she was up here. Where was the being that had been speaking to her?
The mountains rumbled as another great belch of smoke exited the vents in the top. But instead of going up to join the rest of the cloud. They were snaking along the ground. Crawling their way to where she was standing. They reached the water with surprising speed. Making the Red Woman start to become extremely nervous. She went to turn and run as the smoking snakes began to skip across the surface of the water towards her. Unfortunately, it was to late for the smoke now wrapped around her. Gripping her tightly before she was lifted off and pulled through the air to face the mountains.
"There you are, fleshling." The voice boomed over the area. More smoke pouring from the mountains now. Blanketing the whole area. A few smokey tendrils brushed over her body before the voice spoke once more, "Ahh quite the beautiful one as well if my memory of appealing forms for your kind is correct."
"I'm flattered you think so great one." Melisandre responded. She ws doing her best not to panic within this mystical grasp. She was not used to being restrained in any fashoin for over 300 years. "What do you mean by 'my kind'?"
"You weren't expecting me to be human were you fleshling?" came the instant reply. More and more of the shadowy smoke filled her vision. Her panic was rising. "Calm yourself. If I wanted to kill you. You would already have joined those that tried to pillage my prison. But I haven't brought you here to discuss the fate of insects who over step themselves."
Fire erupted from the mountain top. Liquid fire began to flow out shortly after. The fire swirled and mixed with the already thick smoke. Creating a beautiful display of flowing shadow and flame. The sight made Melisandre pause. Her god, R'hllor, was known as the god of flame and shadow. This display could be a demonstration of his power. Then she was sure of it! She had been choosen to represent him. And she would never fail him as long as it was within her power. She awaited her fate in the direct service of her god and master.
From the smoke below her a giant clawed etheral hand pushed up. The three fingers and thumb where tall enough to be towers in their own right. The power the lady from Asshai could feel in the air was intoxicating. She wished to bath in it. The hand drew closer to her. the heat rose as well. it was burning her clothes off, but not her skin. Her rational mind had fully taken a back seat to what she was thinking. She wanted more. She needed to feel her master's touch upon her flesh.
"Yes you shall do nicely. From this day forward. You are now mine! You shall go forth and find The Last Piece of the One Who Betrayed Me!" The voice spoke. Lighting crackled through the hand as it closed around her. Bringing her into the darkness. The flames, shadow and lighting danced along her naked skin. She could feel her master's power implanting itself within her body. Changing her, morphing her, making her something beyond her wildest dreams.
"Lady! Lady!" a gruff sailor's voice shouted as he shook Meslisandre's shoulder. This lady had been leaning against the main mast staring into the torch fire half the night. While no one else seemed bothered. It had been freaking him out. She had been standing there, staring. Then for a brief moment. The fire had flickered voilently. Shortly afterwards the captain had asked him to let passengers knew they were approaching their first stop since departing Qarth. While he didn't want to, he had been trying to rouse the red dressed redhead. He went to shake her again when her hand suddenly caught his wrist in a rather crushing grip.
Melisandre blinked several times as she realized she was back on the ship. What was she doing back here? She was just with her god. Wasn't she a shipwreck survivor that had washed up on his island? Was it all a vision of the fire? She was sure it all felt real. The fire and smoke dancing along her skin. Her master's word rang in her ears. The feel of his vast power possessing her body. How her body craved for more.
"Witch! I said let go!" A loud male voice distracted her from her thoughts. Glancing to her right she realized she was crushing a sailor's wrist in her grasp. She quickly released the man. Was this part of her master's power? Certainly she had never been this strong before.
"You stupid whore!" The leather faced sailor shouted in Melisandre's face. His winkled features reddening with rage, "You could have broken my wrist!" He would have continued spewing insults. Had a wooden walking stick not collected the left side of his face. The old sailor stumbled to a half kneeling heep. A spittle of blood trailing his lip as he held his face with his good hand.
Turning her gaze a little more. The woman spotted what she guessed was the captain of this vessel. His face was even more grizzled then the one who had been shouting at her. His weathered feature were drawn into a frowning scowl.
"You idoit!" The captain shouted at the down man. "I told you earlier to leave the red prietess alone! Never interupt one that is communicating with a fire! And never go to insult or strike one! Especially this close to Volantis! You know the power those women wield in that city!" Smacking the downed man once more. The captain then turned his gaze towards herself. "Are you alright priestess? I apologize for him interupting your fire gazing."
Melisandre eyed the elder sailor cautiously as she gave a small nod, "It's quite alright. The vision appeared to have ended. So he has caused no real harm. More importantly, have I missed the stop at Volantis? I have important business at The Red Temple." She tugged at her dress lightly as she spoke. It was feeling a little tight to her body for some reason. Had the rain from the storm earlier altered the cloth? Something to ponder later once she gets to the temple. She could easily gain a new and better fitting outfit there.
"No priestess, you haven't missed it. In fact, we will be anchoring there in just a hour or so. This lout on the ground was to tell everyone. But leave you alone until your vision had ended. The fool didn't listen obviously." The captain replied before giving a quick nod and returning to yelling at his crew to keep the vessel on course and time to the harbor.
Meanwhile, Melisandre was mentally panicking while holding the face of a stoic. How had she ended up on this ship? She had been on a ship from Braavos to Dragonstone. Now she on a ship to Volantis?! How had her master done this? He said those three mountains were his prison. Those imprisoned have their powered taken away right? Or was he simply regaining his powers as the mountains rage in fire and smoke? And blast this dress! Why was it feeling so tight? She really needed get to the Red Temple. And she would, in just one short hour.