High atop the grand city of Minas Tirith, Aragorn, the king of Gondor, awaits the arrival of his warriors.
“Perhaps now,” Aragorn ponders aloud, “we can put an end to these vile creatures before any more innocent souls are lost.”

Less than a year ago – during rare moment of poor judgment – King Aragorn had given the wizard Radagast permission to create a terrible beast know as the Hugely Wuthering Creepy Snake which at first seemed subdued through its own gluttony, but has since recovered and is revenging Middle Earth, Holy Worlds, and other realms seeking to devour any soul it can find. It has also produced more vial creatures after its likeness. They are called by the common folk “The Soul Eaters” – but more technically they are known as Giant, Soul-Eating Reptiles. These beasts have spread far and wide through strange mists which have been manifesting all over the realm of Gondor and beyond. Few have ventured beyond those mists and returned. Those who did return told such tales as to be labeled mad; they were then promptly taken to the proper facilities where they might recover (so don’t worry about those guys: they’ll be fine after some therapy).

In order to right the wrongs of his decision, King Aragorn sent word far and wide – like really far and wide – to those few who might be willing to aid his kingdom and the realms beyond.

Now the King stands at the pinnacle of his great city, watching the fields of Pelennor. The sun is shining brightly, but the air is still cool and inviting. He closes his eyes and imagines he can almost hear the beautiful sound of bagpipes floating up through the city. Ah bagpipes! The bane of all Giant, Soul-Eating Reptiles – and sometimes amphibians if I’m not mistaken.
But where are my manners? I have not yet introduced myself. I am the chronicler of this tale. Having given King Aragorn my word that I would not interfere with the warriors he sent for, I was given the task of recording their quest from afar and in the exact manner in which it occurred. You need not know my name, for this tale stretches beyond my voice only. My task is only to recall what I see, and nothing more. Whether I complete this task will be up to you to decide, but I can assure you that such a tale as this will not disappoint. Allow me to start where all tales must, at the beginning.

Though King Aragorn awaited the arrival of the warriors atop the city, it is his loyal attendant, Denemir, who will meet them first. He waits for the warriors just inside the central gate of the first level of Minas Tirith behind a large booth with a sign which reads: BAGPIPE WARRIOR’S CHECK IN BOOTH. Denemir wears the unmistakable, overly done garb of the royal attendants. He also wears the unmistakable grin of an overly excited fair booth attendant. It should not be hard for the warriors to find Denemir so that he can have them fill out the appropriate waver forms; that is assuming the warriors can read the common tongue of Middle Earth…and enter the right gate…. But, assuming the warriors at least enter the central gate, Denemir should be able to recognize them and wave them to the booth. Once they have signed all of the waver forms, Denemir will give them direction to where they will meet with King Aragorn before they embark on their quest.


(Note: Denemir is a neutral character. This means you can make him do or say anything you want. For now, just don’t make him leave the booth.)

Pedro: *Walks though the grand gates of Minas Tirith. He sees a strange man waving frantically at him from behind a large booth. Walks over to meet him. The guys asks him to write his name in a bunch of different places, and hands him a sheet of paper which is supposed to tell him where to go next.* Gracias, Señor. *Walks off in the direction the smiling man pointed, but has no idea where to go from there.*
*After weaving aimlessly through the lowest level of the city, Pedro finally decides to ask a young man for help.* Excuse me niño, can you read this? *Hands the boy the paper.*
Boy: *Looks it over then smiles.* Oh! You are trying to reach the upper levels. Follow me; I can take you there. I hope you have some time because it is going to take a while to reach the top. Luckily for you, I know a few short cuts. *Begins jogging and waving for Pedro to follow.*
Pedro: *Nods, then follows the boy through the city.*
*Finally reaches the top and sees a lone figure at the end of a really long courtyard thing. Bends over to catch his breath, sighs, then mummers to himself,* Figures he would be at the far end. *Turns to the boy.* Gracias niño.
Boy: De nada.
Pedro: *Begins to walk across the courtyard.*

Conor: *runs into Minas Tirith with his wolf/dog running at his heels, looks around and sees a sign: BAGPIPE WARRIOR’S CHECK IN BOOTH. Walks over*

Denemir: Are you part of the Quest?

Conor: Yes.

Denemir: *hands over a paper* Up there in the higher levels.

Conor: *begins walking up*

Kyran: *wanders through the city gates feeling very small and trying to make himself smaller so as not to get jostled by the swirling masses*
*makes his way toward the booth*
*signs the forms the impressively dressed man offered him*
*fumbles with his bagpipes and drops them*
*recollects his bagpipes and begins heading for the top of the city, trying to be much smaller than he is*
*is randomly handed a cupcake by a lady from the upper levels and told it will cure him of an ailment he doesn't recognize*

(I hope it's okay for me to write in story form? It's a little easier for me.)

Flash wandered through the gates of the city, in no particular hurry to reach his destination. After all, he was only ever on time... or, if not on time, at least fashionably late.
It was by accident that he stumbled upon Denemir, and the booth he was supposed to go to. Flash headed over.
"Sign this, please." Denemir handed him the papers.
Flash stared at them, briefly considering just putting down an X and handing the paper back. Instead, he scrawled out his signature and then pushed them back. He gave Denemir a salute before ambling away again to explore.

Oh, I thought that I couldn't do a story format.

Conor walked slowly up Minas Tirith, with Fenu his wolf hound, at his side. As he walked on he looked slightly around himself. He saw people rather edging away from him. After all, who wears kilts?

As Flash meandered through the streets, in no particular hurry to get anywhere, he spotted someone peculiar up ahead. It was a young man in a kilt, with a wolfhound at his side.
It was clear to Flash, at least, that this person was one of the other people who had signed up for King Aragorn's mission. After a moment of debate, Flash decided to go talk to this person. "Hey!" He trotted over.

Conor turned and said back, "Hey!"

Smith walked through the gate of Minas Tirith on weary legs. He looked for an inn where he could rest the night. His feet were sore, his head was sore, and his shoulders were sore, one from his bag and one from his bagpipe.

Suddenly a man standing at a table caught his attention. The man was waving his arms at him. Astronephinipedes wove through he people to the man and his table. The man said nothing, only began moving piles of paper around in a bewildering way, and then, further, began piling a whole stack of them in front of Astronephinipedes and indicating him to sign, holding a pen at his fingers.

If the man was not in the black and silver of the citadel, Smith would have been affronted and resisted, but he was afraid that to do so would break some law or otherwise endanger his stay. So, still affronted, he quietly signed every single paper. It was only when he was at the second 'p' in Astronephinipedes on the last paper that he noticed the word 'dragons' on it. He stopped writing. The man evidently thought he was finished and gave him another paper. Astronephinipedes automatically looked for somewhere to sign, and was confused by not finding one, until he realized that it was a sheet of directions. He wondered if it led to an inn, and began, even wearier, to follow the directions.

Several minutes later he found himself in a most un-inn-like courtyard. Another man with bagpipes was there, walking towards a regal figure at the far end of the courtyard. He suddenly had a vague of idea of what was happening.

When Ban had first arrived in the citadel, his ears were met with an old, familiar clamor. Voices shouted, laughed, whispered. Carts and horses banged their way through streets. A delicious smell carried him to a small vendor selling some sort of sweet and spicy meat rolled up in bread. Ban bought one for himself and one for his companion. "Gloria." he said.

His partner seemed preoccupied and Ban paused to consider why. When he remembered that she had hardly been in any city before, he smiled and handed her the hot treat. "You'll get used to it, Gloria."

"I doubt that." Gloria muttered. "It's so big and bright and look at all those colors and there's so much to see--"

"And hear. It's loud and we need to find where we are supposed to be."

Gloria belatedly responded to his prompting. "Oh. Right, of course." she wolfed down the sweet meat. "There's a man with a sign over there. And someone carrying bagpipes just walked off."

"Lead us."

Gloria grabbed his arm without ceremony and dragged him to the right.

"Greetings, I'm Denemir. Sign these and then you may head up to the higher levels." From the over-excited tone of his voice, this man figured his job was not only important but also terribly interesting. Ban heard the shuffling of papers and knew the man was holding them out for him to sign.

"Thank you, my good man." Ban said. "My assistant will sign them." There was a small grunt and more shuffling papers as Denemir realized this piper was blind and then handed the papers to Gloria.

"And now?" Ban asked.

"The directions are listed here..." the man trailed off, obviously realizing that a blind man couldn't read, just as a bland man couldn't sign papers...papers which he probably couldn't read either.

"Thank you." Ban said again. Gloria took the direction sheet and led the way, pulling Ban along behind her at a furious pace and not much caring whether he could find his footing in time or not.

NARRATION
So it was that the warriors made their way into the grand city of Minas Tirith. Denemir was overjoyed to bring the news – and all of the paperwork – to his lord, King Aragorn. Unfortunately he was unfamiliar with the lower levels of the city: he was lost. He, of course, would never admit to being lost in his own city, so he remained lost for some time.

It was nearing midday, and most of the city’s inhabitants were preparing, buying, or eating their midday meals. The lovely smells of bread, soup, and other foods floated far up into the city. The enticing smells coupled with the beautiful weather coaxed most of the people out onto the cobblestone streets where they could enjoy it more fully. Thus, the streets of Minas Tirith were so busy that Denemir could not make heads or tails of where he was or where he should go. Much of Denemir’s paperwork was knocked from his hands when a large passerby (most likely a blacksmith based on the smell). He scrambled to gather it all up again as countless boots soiled the papers with mud and other unsightly filth.

Suddenly there was a deep rumbling which came from high above in the upper levels of the city. All of the feet, and the bodies they carried, stopped. Denemir stood up and looked up in the direction everyone else was looking. There was a fowl looking smoke coming from the royal courtyard.
“Sound the alarm!” shouted a city guard, “It’s a soul eater!”
‘A soul eater?’ Denemir thought, ‘In the city?’ He looked up to the courtyard. ‘King Aragorn!’
“Protect the King!” Denemir shouted to the guard among the other panicked cries of the people. “The King! Go protect the King!” Denemir shoved his way closer to the guard, holding his paperwork tightly at his side.
The guard spotted a frantic looking city official among the crowed of scrambling people. He quickly pushed through the crowed to the official. “Sir, shall I escort you to a safer location?”
“No!” Denemir was still shouting despite the guard being right next to him; it rang quite loudly in the guard’s helmet. “Go protect the King! He is in the royal courtyard!”
“Yes sir.” The guard pressed his way out of the crowed and darted toward the citadel.

The monster had first appeared over the mountains. It quickly descended into the citadel, spouting bitter bile which melted all that it touched into choking clouds of gas in which it hid its hideous face. It quickly devoured the souls of countless citadel guards and was wreaking havoc. There was a sudden pause in its attack as it loomed over the courtyard. The gas cloud was slowly blown thin by the breeze, revealing hundreds of long teeth as its lips were pulled into a hideous smile. It stood tall astride three pairs of legs. Horns were scattered over its long and muscular body. Its fiery eyes scanned the vast courtyard. Needless to say, it was feeling quite invincible.

(Note: I will try to not write Pedro's response right after the narration every time. This is one such time. I will wait to post what Pedro does until I see another response.)

Ban and Gloria had almost reached their destination when the chaos began. Suddenly there were footsteps pounding, Ban's feet ached with the feel of them, and an acrid scent wafted on the breeze. It was hot and putrid and somehow very much... Dead.

Gloria screamed. "Soul-eaters?!" She started using all the coarse words she had learned during her service as a maid, as well as more that she had picked up along the road.

Ignoring her, Ban shook his head. "You'd think they might have the decency to wait a couple more hours."

(Sorry I haven't been posting lately; school has me bogged down more than usual lately. I'll try to post tonight or tomorrow.)

Kyran: *hears the sounds of the beast* Look out! *pushes several people through a nearby doorway.

Astronephinipedes was trying to decide if he would just leave, when there was a terrific rumble. His first thought was that maybe he should leave quickly instead. That was cowardly, and he knew it, and steeled himself. He hadn't declined to join the bagpipers when he heard about them because he was afraid, it was because he had...other things to do, and he had not explored the killer side of his bagpipes. He was an artist, not a warrior.

Clouds of gas rose from the city areas nearest the courtyard where Astronephinipedes was, boiling closer over the tall shapes of the houses. Shrieks, cut off halfway finished in most cases, made Astronephinipedes blood feel slightly frosty. He [ok, I can't remember if you told us somewhere how exactly the bagpipes kill the beasts – by playing them? To be continued when I am sure what he's supposed to do...]

At the initial rumbling, Pedro ran for cover from which to mount a counter attack. He scrambled behind a low, decorative wall just as a bitter cloud swept overhead. Some of the cloud’s toxic fumes made their way into Pedro’s lungs, making it very difficult to breath much less play his bagpipes. Nonetheless, he blew with what little air he could muster into his faithful bagpipes. The solemn hum of the pipes floated over the courtyard, but it soon changed mood as Pedro’s fingers danced out the familiar tune of “El Jarabe Tapatio” on the not so familiar instrument of the bagpipes. The clear air emanating from the pipes quickly blew much of the foul cloud away around Pedro, giving him space to stand and face where he guessed the beast stood. He tried to clear a path through the dense cloud.

Ban hardly knew whether it would be safer for Gloria to hide or to stay with him. He stood in the street, the noxious fumes surrounding him, and felt the nearness of the foul beast. Three blocks away. Maybe less. Uncertain as to what he was expected to do and dumb to the magical properties his bagpipes were supposed to own, he stood a moment in the street, choking on the smoke and gas.

He heard the strains of a familiar tune somewhere nearby, lifting out of the chaos and tumbling back down into the surrounding streets. The notes were sweet and Ban fancied that the air itself was lighter and more free for the song. Positioning Gloria behind him, in the shadow of a nearby building, Ban swung his pipes around on their strap and set his fingers.

In harmony with the unknown player somewhere beyond, The Blind Piper began to play.

(Sorry about this Renna, if you don't like the beginning you may just tell me.)

Once the man who called upon him, arrived upon his side a commotion from a certain direction caused him to jerk his head, and run for the scattering fray, with Fenu running after him. Then Conor stopped sniffed the air, it smelled a little strange for his Highland nose.

Then he heard it.

A Bagpipe. Out of all the commotion came a weak bagpipe, then it began getting confidence, then from another place came another Bagpipe. Conor quickly swung his Bagpipe of his shoulders, and got a full breath, then played the harmony of the song.

Astronephinipedes began to fill the bag of his pipes, trying to get breath between the waves of noxiousness sweeping by him, and retreating to the far side of the courtyard from the dragon one step at a time. The other piper in the courtyard had begun to play a tune, and it roared in the partially enclosed space with welcome clarity. Astronephinipedes took a last breath to fill the bag – but a wave of fumes washed over him at that moment, and it seemed to fill his head. Everything sickened into a shade of grey. But right beside him, in his hands, he heard his pipes playing. Whether it was him playing them or it was not, he could not tell, but they were playing.

For how long Ban played, he had no idea.

Time seemed to stop, the roarings of the beast were distant, the chaos and panic of the city fled. The music around him swelled. Just how many pipers were playing about the city, he had no idea. He was vaguely aware that Gloria had collapsed behind him.

He thought he had been playing for some time, and he couldn't for the life of him, discover when was the last time he had taken a breath. It might have been ages ago, might have been when he first started to play. Or it might have been only a second past, and still when he first started playing. It didn't seem to matter anymore, so trifling a thing as the fill of the lungs with air. He felt no desire to breathe in the vile fumes still swirling about, and so he didn't. He just kept playing.

Ban stopped only when the air around him was freshened by a breeze, and the smoke and gases were swept away. His fingers halted on the last note of a harmony line and he let them. The song still rang out elsewhere, such a simple tune, he thought, to combat a monster.

"Gloria?" he turned and, feeling with his hands, knelt beside her. "Are you alright?" She didn't respond, and he wondered a moment if the ties binding them together would so quickly be broken. But she breathed, choking, gasping breaths, but she breathed.

The streets were deserted now, everyone had fled to safer parts. He could hear the monster again, but it didn't seem so near or so fierce as it had before the song. Awkwardly, Ban scooped Gloria into his arms and stumbled to the side of the street where he might lean against walls and perhaps find his way to...somewhere. Warily, slowly, he made his way towards the sound of the closest piper.