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Discussion in 'Citizens' started by Maglor, Oct 6, 2016.

  1. Maglor

    Maglor Tolkien Legendarium

    Pandora Town
    Elf (Noldo)
    Kanafinwë Makalaurë
    He who harps upon the far
    forgotten beaches and dark shores
    where western foam ever roars
    Maglor who's voice is like the sea

    Played by Nessa

    Fandom: Tolkien Legendarium
    Age: Over 2000, It's a bit more difficult to pinpoint a physical age for him, though most answers would probably average out to around somewhere in his 20's or 30's
    Species: Elf
    Gender: Male
    Canon Point: Soon after returning to Amon Ereb, after the Kinslaying at Sirion
    NPC Companions: Elros, his foster son, a half elven boy of about 5


    Among his people, the Noldor, Maglor is regarded as their greatest minstrel, and among all of the elves he comes second in skill only to one other, Daeron of Doriath. Living under the expectations of his father, and being the son of the man many considered the Greatest among the Noldor, pressured Maglor into becoming the best in what he chose to do as well. The harp is his favored instrument, though having lived thousands of years- and interacting with several of the cultures residing in Arda besides- he's well practiced with several others. He has a deep love of words and poetry, and is well known for his ability as a singer as well. His Mother-name, Makalaurë, even means “Forging Gold,” a reference to the beauty of his voice.

    As a minstrel and a bard, it's a fair assumption that Maglor would know something of the lore of his own world. Indeed, when he was younger it seemed Maglor had an unquenchable thirst for stories, the more dramatic the better, and because of this has a rather wide knowledge of his home world. Even in later days, when his concerns turned from studying history to reluctantly making it, a curiosity about the cultures and peoples surrounding him always existed at least on the edges of his mind. Sometimes this even worked out in his favor, as some minor practical skills that he picked up, such as basic healing and foraging proved useful in the more desperate periods of his life. In Pandora there is little reason to think this curiosity will disappear any time soon, and having a ready mind, willing to learn quickly, could prove a boon to him here as well.

    Battle Prowess:
    Among those who live in Arda, Maglor has become well known and feared as a warrior. He is renowned, not only for his ability to kill, but his willingness to do so when pushed to it. He does not like it, and in truth he has grown weary of battle, but hundreds of years of fighting against both the orcish forces of Morgoth and his own kind have honed Maglor into a skillful warrior.

    His exceptional elven agility and grace offer him a great advantage against his enemies, though he fights with a brutality that could be called anything but beautiful. If he sees an opportunity he will take it, and his movements are precise and efficient, made to ensure the fight ends as quickly as possible, poetic nonsense about “dancing with blades” be damned. Swordsmanship is Maglor's main area of skill and it is the one he depends on the most, sometimes in conjunction with a parrying dagger. If stripped of his weapons he could likely hold his own long enough to get out of a fight, but hand-to-hand combat is not a fighting style he is particularly comfortable with.

    For over 400 years Maglor protected one of the most unguarded regions of Beleriand, keeping the forces of Morgoth from breaking through the siege being held over Angband. He eventually lost that land due to a Dragon attack during the Battle of Sudden Flame, but nevertheless, Maglor is a quite capable commander. He has the intelligence and creativity to strategize and think on his feet, and the judgment to know when to keep going and when to call a retreat.

    Maglor is the second born son of an immortal prince, born in a time of perfect bliss. Even when that bliss ended, Maglor often stepped asside, letting his elder brother make the major decisions and going along with them. Often, by others, Maglor is seen as in the shadow of his older brother, Maedhros. Kingship was never a role he sought. He is no diplomat or politician as one would think of it, but that said, he is a good leader when it comes down to it. He is able to hold people together and knows how to manage a fortress. Under pressure Maglor retains the ability to make difficult decisions, putting the needs of others before his own feelings. He feels a strong loyalty towards those he considers his own, and in his own quiet way is fairly good with people. He listens and watches, observes others. In Arda he was often compared the most to his mother, Nerdanel, who sought to understand others and the way their minds worked. Much could be said the same about Maglor. He has a strong empathy and is able to see things from other's perspectives, and being so is fairly decent at letting others see his own, and hopefully convince them to do what he wants.

    Special Abilities
    Elven Gifts:
    As an elf, Maglor has been granted an eternally long life, unless slain by either weapon or grief. He does not grow old, and he cannot fall ill. That said, the weight of the years can- and do- grow heavy for him, making him seem older. Along with this, Maglor has greater grace and agility than the average human, making him as light-footed as a cat and granting him incredible balance. He could even walk across deep snow as easily as if it were solid ground, rather than sinking into it. He has a high level of endurance as well, able to withstand hours of physical exertion before needing to take a rest. His senses are also enhanced, and he can hear others clearly and understand them from yards off, along with being able to see for great distances, able to identify others a mile off or in the darkest depths of a forest.

    With their music, elven minstrels are able to create images of such potency that others see them as if they were real. Maglor is no exception to this and can create vibrant worlds through his song. This is not an ability he can control however, and it is more an extension of his skill at music than anything he would consider “magic” or a “power.” If the images are even seen is more dependent on the imagination and the attentiveness of the listener than anything else.

    Temporary Summer Abilities/EquipmentWith the coming of the summer season in Pandora, Maglor has been granted guardianship over Apollo's domain of Music, Arts, and Poetry until he is able to recover his essence. As such his already impressive skills in music and poetry have only increased, and along with the illusions and images he could previously create, Malor is now able to make music of such musical potency as to elicit overwelming waves of emotion in his listeners through song. He also now possesses Apollo's full knowledge of music, poetry and art, including their many forms and the ability to play every instrument that exists upon Apollo's world (basically modern-day earth). Along with this, Maglor is also able to accurately gauge a person's skill in their chosen art form merely by looking a piece of their work, as well as being able to name the artist or creator of a work without any prior knowledge of them.

    Maglor has also gained possession over Apollo's lyre for the duration of this season. A magical instument, who's sound is surprisingly beautiful, Apollo's lyre grants Maglor the ability to command objects to move and through the music played upon the lyre Maglor can magically build anything. It takes time to build objects with the lyre, however, and the amount of time it takes only increases with the size of the object. A song of building is also required to be written before anything can be made with the lyre. As it is a divinely made object, Apollo's lyre is virtually indestructible.

    As an elf, Maglor already possessed a heightened physical abilities, from senses to endurance to the ability to survive many wounds that would kill one of the race of Men. Now, granted a God's powers these too have been heightened. Maglor can heal at a faster rate than he could previously, with minor injuries healing instantaneously and major wounds healing much faster. Maglor's endurance has also increaded from what it once was, and he is now able to go for days on only four hours worth of sleep. At moments when it is required Maglor's skin will also thicken, becoming hader to break and preventing injury. This last ability is only temporary though, and Maglor has to see a blow comming in order to activate it. Repeated, excessively strong blows implimented with sharp objects will be able to break though this barrier, however and cause him harm. Maglor can also still die if he is mortally wounded and does not receive the proper care fast enough.

    Maglor's senses have also increased along with the res of his new abilities to three times their usual strength. While a blessing this is also a curse, however, as loud discordant sound, bright light,unleasant scents and so on can proove debilitating.

    Apollo's sacred animals will be drawn to Maglor this season, and will see him as a friend. He will be able to speak with and understand them, as well as make requests of them. The animals he shares a connection with include: wolves, dolphins, roe deer, swans, cicadas, hawks, ravens, crows, snakes, mice, and rats.

    Maglor will also be able to hear and answer other's prayers relating to music and the arts contantly flowing into his mind, depending on how many people are praying for his particular domain on that day. Depending on the urgency of the prayers these can either be as quiet as a whisper or as loud as a shout

    First and foremost, though Maglor does not age, he is still able to be slain. Running him through with a sword will still kill him as well as it would any mortal man, and major wounds would be as grievous to him as they would be to anyone else. The loss of, say, a hand, would still be just that after all and he would need to adjust and recover from that as much as anyone else would.

    Maglor is also often at conflict with himself. Bound up by the oath he and his brothers made centuries ago, he has been forced to become a slayer of his own kind. His own sense of pity feels like a burden and a weakness to him now, and he has just grown very tired in his life. Now it seems as though the right choice eludes him more often than not.

    Of course, none of this is helped by his general Fëanorian tendencies most of the time. He still has a bit of a sense of the arrogance his family is well known for- though that has somewhat lessened over the years- and he definitely is as stubborn as ever. When he has made a decision he will stick by it until the end, and few things will be able to turn him away from that decision, no matter if it's the best choice or not.

    Temporary Summer WeaknessesMuch to Maglor's dismay, this season any language (including his own) other than ancient greek will become much more difficult for Maglor to read and write in as he will gain a form of Dyslexia in reguards to them. His mind has now become hardwired for aicient greek, but while in any other circumstance he would have been all too happy to be able to read and write in the language, the trade off is all too high a price for Maglor.

    While much safer from most weapons this season, Maglor has gained a weakness to weapons made from Divine metals. These will cut through his new defenses just as easily as if he didn't even have them.

    With Apollo's essance now within him, Maglor will now become a beacon for any Greek monsters in the area, and they will become attracted towards him. any technology, such as cellphones, will only amplify this signal. Having apollo's essance in him will also proove to be a very distracting experience for Maglor as well. He will experience emotions and memories that do not, by any rights, belong to him, feeling -- for instance -- a bitter sweet sadness upon encountering laurel trees and hyacinth. Dreams of places he has never seen and events he has never experienced will also become more common for Maglor. All in all he will be sharing his body with a peice of a completely different person and will have to work out how to sort through all of these new feelings and memories while remaining sane.


    It should not have phased him so. That deathmarch the boys would move in towards their room, when he walked them to their beds at night. Stiff backed, eyes straight ahead, silent save for the padding of their feet against the stone floor. It was as though he were leading them to their executions.

    Maglor sighed, sidleing in through the doorway of his own room and letting the door swing shut behind him. “And what do you expect, Makalaurë? When we were their captors? The very commanders of the army that attacked their home?” He could practically hear his brother's chiding words, as though Maedhros were in the room speaking to him at that very moment. Next would come the sigh, weary and almost pitying, “ You are not their father...” A warning and a reminder, not to grow too attached to them.

    Raking a hand up through his hair, the elf shook his head and pushed further on. His brother was right of course, he had to admit to himself as he walked across the room, pulling a stack of scribbled and scratched out parchment down from atop his desk and seating himself behind his harp. Maglor knew what he and his brother were to those boys – Eru, to most of their kind, in all likelihood. The monsters that lurked at the edges of nightmares.

    His eyes scanned over the lines of poetry – worked and re-worked a thousand times over – scawled over the page. It had not always been so...
    He could still remember...ai...Those too short years spent growing up on Valinor. The beauty and bliss of that realm, the peace that they had lived in, the light of Laurelin tinging all that it touched golden. Sitting as a child in his Grandfather's palace, at his feet listening to the tales Finwë would tell of far off Endorë and the Great Journey. Maedhros would always nudge him in the side, that knowing smirk pulling at his lips. “Grandfather always exaggerates..” He would say. That never stopped either of them from making their plans. “Someday I will go there...

    Maglor might have laughed now. Ai, that he had returned to Endorë, indeed!

    Ah, but then it was difficult not to look upon his younger self as foolish. So self-assured in his own abilities, almost arrogant. He was the son of Fëanor, the heir to the King of the Noldor and the greatest amongst their people, was it not to be somewhat expected? He was called the greatest minstrel among their kind – so everyone said, and Eru knew Maglor had put in the work to earn that title. Ai! And he reveled in every moment he got to play before a crowd, melodramatic and theatrical as he'd ever been.

    But most of his days had been filled with other moments, more quiet ones, with his brothers, with his close friends. When he was not the center of attention and did not wish to be. Where he would watch others instead, and listen to them. He had been told that in that regard he had ever been like his mother, seeking to understand people and how their minds worked. And then there were the times where he would wander in his own thoughts. That had been his life. Watching his brothers – all seven of them – grow up. Constantly dreaming, constantly seeking new stories and songs. It had been simpler then. Not perfect of corse, but...

    Things had never been easy between his Father and his uncles. Maglor had to admit that to himself. He had not payed it much mind growing up, but when the Valar had released Morgoth from his prison... A sharp click escaped the corner of Maglor's lips as he tried to push the memory away. The fallen Vala had seen weakness, strife ready to be made.

    And it was around that same time that the Silmarills had been created. The Eru-blasted jewels, the cause of so much bloodshed. Maglor could still picture them so clearly. Glowing softly with the intermingling golden and silver light of the Trees, casting out radiant shards of color from their perfectly cut facets. His father's greatest achievement. And Morgoth had coveted them.

    Morgoth had exacerbated the rift between Fëanor and his brothers,Fingolfin and Finarfin, all coming to a head with Fëanor threatening Fingolfin at swordpoint. And While Morgoth had made his escape unscathed by the consequences of his deeds, Fëanor had been banished for it. It was only natural that Maglor and his brothers follow their father, and in a show of solidarity Finwë followed as well, leaving rule of the Noldor in the hands of Fingolfin.

    It would be ten years later, when his father was summoned to a feast held in Valinor, that Morgoth would again reappear. While Fëanor left, Maglor, his brothers, and his Grandfather remained behind. They had been on a hunting trip, he and his brothers. They had tried to convince Finwë to join them, but he refused to go. So they had left him.

    And then the darkness had fallen. The light swallowed up by a void of blackness. Maglor and his brothers had known something was wrong then. They had turned back , but they had returned too late. There Finwë lie, sprawled out before the gates, his body bloodied and crushed, and the Silmarills, which he had been guarding, were stolen

    Maglor and his brothers had sent messengers to Fëanor. When he returned he was distraught. Ai, to see his father in such a state... In their grief and rage Fëanor and his sons, Maglor included, led the Noldor in rebellion. They swore an oath of vengeance against Morgoth, and to retrieve the Silmarills, no matter who stood in their way.

    When they reached Alqualondë, the only port out of Valinor, the elves who lived there, the Teleri, refused to help the Noldor in their crossing to Middle Earth. This led to a Battle as the Noldor attempted to steal the ships, and Maglor and his brothers were among the first Elves to participate in the Kinslaying, the first killing of elf by elf. No story Maglor had heard before ever spoke of what the blood of another elf felt like, warm and wet and coating your hands. What the gurgling sound of their dying cries was like. What the sinking feeling of the realization that they were dead, that you had killed them, felt like.

    And still they went on. As they moved further north a Dark figure- some whispered that it was even Mandos, the Doomsman of the Valar himself – called to them. It warned the rebelling Noldor to go no further, to turn back and face the judgement of the Valar, else invite doom upon their heads. Even centuries later, the words still ring clearly in Maglor's ears:

    "Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever....”

    Even facing this doom however, only a few turned back. The remaining Noldor argued over which path to take, split between Fëanor's house and Fingolfin's house. Maglor was called into secret council with his brothers and father, and they came eventually to the decision to steal the Ships that they had fought in Alqualondë for. Taking only those most trusted by Fëanor, their host soon reached Middle Earth. They then burned the ships, all except for Maglor's eldest brother, Maedhros, who stood aside. Aware of his brother's absence all the while, Maglor felt sick at it, but also couldn't help but feel betrayed himself.

    There was not long to dwell, however. Attracted by the sounds of the ships burning, a legion of orcs came upon Fëanor's host and attacked. The battle lasted ten days, though eventually the Noldor emerged victorious, but even as the Orcs retreated, Maglor and his brothers soon realized that their father was nowhere to be found.

    Fëanor had followed the orcish army, intent on chasing them down even to the gates of Morgoth's fortress, Angband, itself. When Maglor and his brothers came upon their father, he was surrounded by Balrogs. They fought their way in to try and save him, but they came too late. Feanor's wounds were mortal and as Maglor and the others took him off of the battle field he had them lay him down. He pressed his sons to keep to their oath, to swear to him that they would. Even as he did so, Maglor watched with tears blurring his vision, flames engulfing Fëanor as his spirit fled his body.

    It was not long after this that Morgoth sent a Messenger pretending to offer terms of surrender. Maedhros persuaded his brothers to talk to Morgoth, while meanwhile preparing to attack at the same time knowing Morgoth would likely betray them. Maglor was reluctant at first, arguing against such a foolhardy erend, but eventually he was worn down, and he and the rest of his brothers agreed to let Maedhros go. Morgoth did indeed attack, but with greater numbers than the Fëanorians were expecting, and what's more, with Balrogs. Maedhros was captured.

    There was no time to grieve, not for his father, nor for his brother. The Noldor were in need of leadership, and it was Maglor who was left to take that role. He could not bring himself to be called High King, to give in to the idea that his elder brother was dead. He would insist on the title of Prince Regent, even as he took on the responsibility of a King. It was for Maglor, now, to make the difficult descisions. Sort out conflicts. Deal with everyone. He’d mediated between his brothers when they were younger, but this was different. He’d never prepared for this, never expected he would need to. Why would he? He had lived in the Undying lands, and his Grandfather, his father, his brother were all before him.

    Another messenger from Morgoth soon arrived, and it was only with some reluctance that Maglor would hear him, desperate for any news of his elder brother.

    “Return back to whence you came,” The messenger spoke, “else depart from this land, only then will your brother be returned to you. Leave my Lord to rule this place in peace, as is his right.”

    In the council chamber he had received the messenger in, Maglor stood. He eyed the creature: a vampire, one of the many fallen Maia who followed Morgoth. Even were he to attempt to kill it, it would survive, crawling back to it's master, powerless and formless.

    For a while Maglor was silent. “Your master has no right to these lands.” he finally said

    “This is your answer?” the Vampire replied, cocking it’s head to the side.

    “No.” Makalaurë drew his sword, and shot the guards to eithe rside of the beast a look. The command in his gaze was clear. Within moments, the vampire was forced to it’s knees.“When you return to your Master,tell him that this was my answer.”

    And with those words he brought his blade down through hard bone and soft flesh. The creature's head fell to the floor, rolling into the far corner. He dropped the sword with a clash, and Mglor strode, silently, out of the room. He was shaking as he retreated to his study, slamming the door shut behind him.

    When his brothers found him later, he told them that no one was to attempt a rescue. It was too great a risk to test Morgoth's power now and they had already lost too many men. Instead their camp around lake Mithrim was fortified.

    It would be thirty years later, with the rising of the first sun, that the rest of the Noldor, led by Fimgolfin, would find their way into Middle earth as well, after crossing the grinding Ice of the Helcaraxë. With the coming of the light the orcs retreated, but around Lake Mithrim only a tentative peace emerged between the two Houses of the Noldor, ill feeling still existing between them.

    Soon after, Maedhros's best friend and cousin, Fingon, rescued him from Thangorodrim, where Morgoth had hung him by his wrist. Fingon was Fingolfin's son, and his actions helped to heal the rift between the two elvish hosts. Maglor spent nearly every hour he could near Maedhros's side as he healed, worrying over him, guilt gnawing at him that it was their cousin, and not he who had rescued his own brother.

    When Maedhros recovered he passed the Kingship of the Noldor to his uncle, Fingolfin, much to his brother's displeasure. Maglor, however was in full support of Maedhros. Soon after Maglor and his brothers moved their people into eastern Beleriand. Maglor took up guard over the gap between the hills surrounding Himring and the Blue Mountains. This was the widest gap through which the orcs could Enter the rest of Beleriand, one of the most dangerous, and the most in need of guarding, and for the 400 years the siege of Angband lasted, Maglor held it.

    The relative peace that lasted during the Seige ended suddenly in the midst of winter. Rivers of flame issued forth from Angband, and as the elves fled, Morgoth sent out his forces to attack. Thus began the Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame. On Lothlann, The horsemen Maglor had guarding the plain were burnt alive as he and his men fought a loosing battle against Glaurung the Golden, Father of Dragons. In the end, Maglor called for a retreat, and brought his men to his brother, Maedhros's, fortress upon the hill of Himring. No true peace lasted afterwards. The warring that follows feels nearly endless. That was another thing Maglor never got a sense of in those old stories. How long such a war could seem to last. The oath is now constantly gnawing at the back of his mind.

    After the Bragollach, Celegorm and Curufin, two of Maglor's brothers, fled to Nargothrond, an underground kingdom rulled by their cousin, Finrod. One day they arrived back at Himring, having been banished after attempting to usurp Nargothrond's throne and kidnap the Sindarin princess, Lúthien. At first, Neither Maglor or Maedhros wanted anything to do with their brothers after endangering not one, but two of their alliances, but the brothers also brought more news. A mortal named Beren also sought a Silmarill, as a bride price so that he could marry Lúthien. Soon after this, Maglor and Maedhros learned that Beren was successful, and had stolen a Silmarill from Morgoth's crown.

    News of Beren's success gave Maedhros new hope and he began making new alliances and plans to attack Morgoth. Maglor and Maedhros allied themselves with an Easterling chieftain named Bór and their brother Caranthir made an alliance with a mortal called Ulfang. Both Bór and Ulfang were tempted by Morgoth to betray the Fëanorians. While Bór remained faithful, during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, Ulfang proved a traitor, however. In retribution, Maglor killed Ulfang during the battle.

    In loosing the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, The Fëanorians lost allies friends, and many of their own people. They became scattered as the leaves on the wind. Maglor and his brothers regrouped further south, upon the hill of Amon Ereb, and their fortress there.

    During all of this, Beren and Lúthien were left alone, and in that time the Silmarill as passed down through Lúthien's line until it got to her son, Dior. Maedhros had Maglor wrote to Dior requesting the return of the Silmaril to the Feanorians peacefully. Dior refused, apparently displeased with the manner in which they had asked.. Dior's response helped Celegorm to convince his brothers to attack Dior's realm, Doriath, and begin the second Kinslaying. In the madness of the battle, Celegorm ,Curufin and Caranthir were killed. When Maglor and Maedhros came upon their bodies it felt as though time had stopped. Maglor's stomach dropped, and he fell to his knees beside his brothers. It fet in those apassing moments as he sang them to their final rest, that the world had gone silent. His brothers, Maedhros and Amras, had to drag him away.

    In retaliation for Celegorm's death, his servants left Dior's children- two twin boys- to die in the woods. Maedhros went searching all through the night to find the boys but never found them. Maglor spent the night searching for Maedhros.

    And even after all of this, they still were not finished. One of Dior's children, his daughter Elwing, escaped with a Silmaril. She and the remnants of her people settled at the mouth of the River Sirion. Eventually Maglor and his remaining brothers found out where she and the remaining Silmaril was. By now all of them had become weary and heart-sick. They attempted to hold off as long as they might have, but the Oath continued to torment them. . Again, they attempted to approach Elwing in friendship (Though Eru knews,and they know by now, they had no right) and yet they reminded her of their Oath, that the Silmaril belonged to them, and they tell Elwing to hand it over.

    Elwing refused.

    The Sons of Fëanor once again led an attack. Amrod and Amras, Maglor's youngest brothers, died during the battle, leaving Maglor and Maedhros as the only two remaining. Maglor found Elwing at the top of a palace tower. In her hands, she held the Silmaril, still refusing to hand it over, even to the last, and she lept out of a window. Maglor could only watch. Elwing did not die however. The Vala of the Seas, Ulmo, instead turned her into a sea bird, and she flew up, out of the water, still with the Silmaril. as then that Maglor heard a sound from the corner of the room.

    Maglor found, hiding in a wardrobe, away from the main battle, two twin boys. They backed away from him at first, though one – Elros, Maglor would later learn – pushed the other behind him and held out a pen knife before himself as though it were a weapon that could protect them. Maglor took pity on the boys, and managed to convince Maedhros not to kill them, but rather take them as prisoners of war, and hostages in return for the Silmaril.


    Ve ya vánë, sië ecë sina... Maglor contemplated the words on the page before him. His Noldolantë, The Fall of the Noldor, the lament for his people that he had written after that First Kinslaying. Still he went back to it at times, and even now it felt somehow unfinished-

    “Ada!” A sharp shout brought Maglor out of his thoughts and onto his feet. What...Elrond, Elros?! The screams were coming from the boy's room. Without another thought, Maglor took up his sword and swept down the corridor.

    What he found when he flung open the door froze him for a passing moment. Thick, black, undulating vines, whipping through the air lashing out towards the twins. Elros was pushing Elrond off of the bed, away from the things, even as he screamed, becoming more and more entangled in them.

    Maglor strode forward, slashing at vines. That only served to bring their attention onto him. He became enmeshed and entagled in their creeping mass, the more he struggled the worse it became. The world suddenly went dark, and both Maglor and Elros were dragged down.
    In the months that followed, Maglor and Elros both settle into a new routine in Pandora, having friends and family come and go, as Maglor took up work in the local taverns in Panora Town and Elros started school. Among the people Maglor met was, Apollo, the Greek God of --among other things- music and the sun. Maglor and Apollo did not hit it off from the start, and indeed, Maglor began with rather ill feelings towards the God. This, however, did not stop Apollo from cursing -- as far as the elf sees it -- Maglor with his essence and powers during the summer of year 6

    #1 Maglor, Oct 6, 2016
    Last edited: Jul 12, 2017
  2. Maglor

    Maglor Tolkien Legendarium

    Pandora Town
    Elf (Noldo)
    Aaand that should do it for the updates for this season! :D
  3. Lanni

    Lanni Moderator
    Application Division

    Human Nerd
    your application is

    That'll do! Accepted! You know what to do from here!