CHAPTER SEVEN Restructure
With the fall of Angmar, Kathren waits at the lake shores. As a wave races across the lake, the water turns milky white and begins to boil. As the boiling water begins to rise in height, whatever the water touches, the item begins to become altered.
Kathren makes the wises idea to run away. As she rushes through the narrow canyon heading west, the water is coming after her. As the wave catches Kathren, it submerges her and rampages with her down into the lower valley. As the water enters a wider river bank, Kathren tries to get out, but the current is too strong and she is dragged down into a canyon that drops her over countless mini-waterfalls, and then over one gigantic waterfall, directly into a murky pond at the mouth of the waterfall.
When Kathren looks around the marsh-swamp-land, she can't believe she is still alive! As Kathren looks at her hands, they are all cut up, but are beginning to heal rapidly.
Kathren looks west, she is faced with an enormous mountain range, it's Khazad'dum! Kathren quickly turns southward, she is totally afraid of that godforsaken land. As she tries to trek through the murky swamp, hoping to find the end of it, Kathren is soon to collapse in trick sinkholes, ponds, marshes, lakes, stream channels and all that aquatic annoyance if you're a land dweller.
With constant ingesting of the nasty fluids of this land, she begins to feel cold all over, and sick like. As Kathren stops, pain enters her stomach, Kathren cries out in pain. As the pain increases, Kathren staggers, trips, and falls into green, bubbly pond…mouth first and wide open. As Kathren inhales more water, she immediately coughs it out of her aquatic respiratory system. As Kathren looks about the swamp, the pain has subside as fast as it came.
Kathren gets up and walks the direction of south. She knows she is going south for if she was going north, the icy breeze would be upon her face. The trek, Kathren soon finds out is not as easy as it seems, slip-n and slide-n in the murky muck. The very odor of the swamp has the pungent smell of thousand rotting corpses, the very odor can cause you to gag!
Well it did not take long for Kathren to find herself out of the swamp that she has cursed so much, oh how she despises that odoriferous swamp!
Well as Kathren makes it to the riverside, which flows from the Cursed Swamp, she rest her tired body. Her very skin aches, she wonders what happened back at Lake Evendim, it was nothing she ever experienced before…it had to be Lord Asron and his trickery!
As night fell upon the Great Gap as locals call the land Kathren was resting in, Kathren feels her skin burning, aching again. She sweats from the pain, moaning and rocking back and forward from the steady pain that will not die away.
As Kathren tries to enter a hypnotic state, the extreme pain occurs Kathren to hit and smother her fingers and toes. The very skin seems to be secreting a loose skin that connects her fingers. Her hands and toes have been webbed…she's transforming…and this time, it's unnatural to her!
As the pain dies away, Kathren rocks herself asleep and enters her resting state as the swelling of her toes and fingers go down to normal size.
The following morning Kathren awakens, full of energy and life, Kathren almost forgot the ordeal that occurred last night. As Kathren gazes at her hands, they are webbed still. Silky smooth skin, loosely attaches each finger to the other finger. Kathren's skin on top of her hand has become scales, smooth, stratified scale layers to the cuticle of Kathren's ten fingers. The scales stop on the sides of the loose skin that connects the fingers, but don't cover the bottom of the hand or bottom of the wrist, but instead cover further up her arm, on both the upper and lower extremities of her arm. These scales link all the way up Kathren's arm to the shoulder of both arms.
While Kathren sits on the sand bar, she looks at her warm legs, afraid they are stitched together, but they are not to her relief. But Kathren's legs were much different then she last remembered, there were scales from the cuticle of her toenails, to the lower extremities of her knee caps, scales covers the once beautiful ice white flesh.
Kathren's foot remains the same…sort of, the only difference is that the ten toes are all loosely connected and the whole foot is covered in large, thick, slimy scales.
Kathren tries to stand up, and it does not feel right, she is use to the free movement of each toe, but with a connected five digits on each foot, it feels like wearing thin cloth over your feet.
Clouds are not visible this morning, and Kathren is glad, the warmth of the sun against her scales is a relaxing feeling, almost pure ecstasy!
As Kathren walks along the river, it goes quicker, the river is going downstream, flowing over the rocks placed here by glaciers so long ago. Flowing down hill, faster and faster.
When Kathren comes upon the ridge, she steps into a sand bar, submerged under a foot of water. Kathren wonders if she is in the South Aqua. As Kathren continues heading southward, the pain is coming back, it aches like a broken bone in her legs and arms. Kathren does her best to ignore the pain, but as the cramps spread throughout Kathren's body, she collapses and falls into the foot deep water, crying in pain.
As Kathren tries to calm herself, she notices that the bluish-green scales have creped up to the conjoining of her hips. The new scales are slick, slimy and slightly tender to the touch.
While Kathren feels the new scales and webbing, the pain subsides and a dark shadow overcomes Kathren. As Kathren looks up, she is startled from what she sees!
Back at the forces of Khazad'dum, Er Murazor walks slowly through the damp valley called the Morgul Veil. Along side of Er Murazor is Lord Asron, Lord Asron wants to show Er Murazor his new keep.
As the canyon road narrows, Er Murazor is faced with a tower glowing a pale, ghostly greenish-white color, the very rocks surrounding this fortress seem to absorb the light and cast this eerie greenish-white fog in the valley.
When Er Murazor looks at Lord Asron, he wonders if this is the promised fortress. "Is this my keep?"
Lord Asron's breathing releases a hot steam with a sound only best described as a mighty wind blowing against a metal source. He looks at the fortress. "My lord." Say Lord Asron deeply, and slowly. "This is all yours." As Lord Asron points at the fortress. "Your servants await your arrival, I think you may know them." Says Lord Asron with a slight sick humor in his voice.
Er Murazor walks to the gates of the fortress and using his very own powers, he opens the iron doors. As the doors open, they screech with a deafen moan, they rumble the very air and when they stop moving, they release a sonic boom as the hinges hold the doors wide open.
Er Murazor smiles, he already like it, this Tower Of Sorcery has more advances then his elder fortress of Carn Dum. As Er Murazor slowly walks into the obsidian hall, the art work is a mixture of volcanic obsidian and steel, a design best described as volcanically gothic.
When Er Murazor hears the iron steps of many feet, Er Murazor turns to face the rotting corpse of his fellow allies and his accursed enemies. As Er Murazor looks at Lord Asron, he calls out in fear. "What are they?"
Lord Asron steps into the fortress and gazes at the un-dead lords, then looks at Er Murazor. "You know who they are…I offered them the same deal that you offered me, and they refused, then you asked me to save you from your enemies. This I have done, and in turn, they made a deal with me to serve me for an eternity in exchange of everlasting life."
Er Murazor looks at the rotting servants. "They belong to me?"
Lord Asron nods, "You own their bodies, I own their souls, and many more to come this I can promise!" Lord Asron looks at the fortress, "You own this tower, all I ask of you is for your eyes!"
Er Murazor looks sharply back at Lord Asron. "A spy?" Lord Asron nods and laughs deeply, sounds more like a low distance thunderstorm. "Very Well, I will keep a watch on your South Flanks, and will fight for you when you need me if you bestow the powers of Melkor upon me."
Lord Asron looks quickly at Er Murazor. "What do you know about the sorcery of Melkor?"
Er Murazor walks slowly up to Lord Asron. "Do you know how much sorcery I obtain?"
Lord Asron thinks to himself, "I know you specialize in the powers of Numenor and the powers of Black Speech."
Er Murazor smiles, "Yes, I specialize and master the arts of Numenorean powers, Black Speech, Eyes Of The Well, and the arts of the Sorcery of Angmar." Er Murazor pauses to let Lord Asron stew over the information. "How do you think the curse against the people of Tsigret'lop began? Or the mutations caused by Lake Evendim and the Cursed Swamp?"
Lord Asron realizes he has been tricked, he does not hold much power over Er Murazor as he had thought. "Very well my lord, I will teach you the arts of Melkor if you aide me!"
Er Murazor nods, "Very well indeed! For starters, you will only call me the Witch-King of Angmar, and never by my Black Speech name!"
Lord Asron nods, "Very well my lord…anything else?" Says Lord Asron annoyed.
Er Murazor looks at the map of K'ha'dum. "Did you deal with my arch-nemesis?"
Lord Asron fears for his life with his reply. "I looked for him, but he escaped my grasp before I could consume him!"
Er Murazor looks as ghostly white as ever. "The time is up, he can come ashore…we have a major problem my lord. If he finds Kathren we are all doomed!"
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN