Nazgul and Human Agent

Middle-earth time is:
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Real time is: 19:50:56 MST on Thu Mar 11 1999.

Tower of Barad-dur: Middle Levels
A wide hall surrounds you, and corridors lead off into black darkness. The shadows seem to press in on the meager red lamplight in each hallway, and the sense of dread and chill fear is palpable, sapping the will of captives and fortifying the grim resolve of servants of the Dark Lord. Heavily-armed orcs, the large black uruks for which Mordor is infamous, watch the main stairway which leads down to the lower court and up to... well, it's best not to ponder that. But elsewhere in these middle levels, orcs appear to be scarce. Indeed, only humans can be seen in the halls and courts of this level of the Tower, cruel-eyed men and women of dark learning and evil purpose.

Contents:
Indur
Naiara
Obvious exits:
East leads to Tower of Barad-dur: Eastern Spire.
North leads to Tower of Barad-dur: Northern Spire.
Up leads to Antechamber of the Crown.
Down leads to Barad-dur.
West leads to Hall of the Servitors.

The deep shadows of the Barad-dur are the only place where darkness lies nigh in full even in the height of day. Here the chill of the air is dispelled by the fires of the mountains beneath... or not, it seems, as the Lord prefers.

Some shadows are deeper than others, though. A stranger one lurks near the stairwell.

Naiara looks to the stairs with a wary expression, and sighs deeply. She takes a step, first to the north, but stops. She looks to the east, but turns back to the western corridor and stands there, contemplating its entrance once more.

The western door swings open noiselessly, slipping out through the dimly lit opening is a slender figure, darkly cloaked. Reave approaches the Priestess, regarding her with an air of indifference.

The air fills with the sound of chimes, or perhaps a storm on a farway ocean; and light fails, and dies, as the shadow approaches the woman. " Priestess," echoes, strange and cold even here. " I wish to hear your answer."

Naiara looks to the Servitor, knowing what the Wraithlord refers to. Her eyes narrow slightly at Reave, and she tucks her hands in the opposite sleeves of her robes. Turning slowly to face the shadow, she shakes her head slightly. " I am afraid the Servitor did not paint a complete picture for you, Wraithlord."

Reave's face is an expressionless mask as he draws himself up against the near wall, behind the Lady. He glances at the Priestess for only a fraction of a second, before his purposeful gaze is pulled in the direction of the shadow. He waits there, propped against the wall, silent.

" Is that so?" murmurs the Ringwraith, and in that instant a tendril of ice moves through the air to caress each, man and woman, present in this place. " So my agent has failed me, you say?"

Naiara hesitates slightly, then shakes her head once more. " Not entirely, Wraithlord. He failed in discussing things with me just as I failed to share them with him. I try to keep such things to myself when in Umbar. There are eyes and ears in the Citadel which hear things I wish them not to... but here, I know it is safe to discuss these things, and I will tell you all if you wish it."

The sensation of ice plays upon the skin of the living for a moment more, withdrawing only reluctantly, as a hunger put off. " Speak, by all means," answers the shadow. " All which passes in the South is in my domain. If there have been secrets kept, I would know them all."

The Servitor's solemn demeanor slips for an instant as he shudders beneath his cloak. A frown bends his slender brows, " That would be well, Priestess. My reports are not peppered with heresay, but only true accounts that I gather with my own ears from the mouths of those that are concerned."

Surion arrives from below.
Surion has arrived.

Naiara presses her arms closer against her stomach and clenches her teeth, remaining silent for a few moments longer yet. When she speaks, she does so haltingly, " Torus has not yet chosen to give up his belief in the Heroes, but he has grown to accept the Eye, and His presence, in Umbar. He attends rites in the Citadel, if I ask it of him. He has even met with the Second, and called the city's Lords together to hear the Second so that we could provide an army for the battle at Osgiliath." She pauses briefly, and continues, " It is my goal to continue to unite the Lords of Umbar, and the two faiths, under one, under the Eye... If they are united, they are stronger, and better able to succeed in the Dark Lord's work. The Lords come to me for counsel, and I advise them in their politics. Aye, even Torus. He is a happy man, Wraithlord. He is a content man, distracted by his Tower and his family. He does not look beyond those horizons to cause trouble, and I can easily persuade him on many things."

From one of the endless flights of stairs a tall figure ascends, cloaked in black, more a shadow than a man as he moves through the immense halls with only the soft echo of booted feet announcing his presence to other humans and the forboding presence of the wraith that stand in the cavernous hall. Surion stops short of the gathering of the three, hands lightly crossed behind his back.

A smirk works its way into Reave's features. " I spoke long with Torus. No doubt you exercise great influence over your husband, and indeed the City, but I doubt the extent of the control that the Eye will have while Torus remains in his station. Any cooperation that the Flame Tower Lord would lend to us would have to serve to benefit himself first, as in the case of Osgiliath."

A harsh wind comes upon Surion's face, gracing it for a moment before withdrawing. Though the rush is felt only by he himself, the others within may notice a pause, a change in the air. " Do you bring news that demands our attention, servitor? If not, be silent and hear what passes, for you may be asked to act upon it."

Naiara turns back to face the man behind her, anger barely concealed. " You spoke long with him, aye, but he would sooner drop you in Gondor and tell them where you are than give you safe passage. Do you think he told you true? You did not live with the man as I have. You do not carry his child, nor hold his heart..."

Surion turns to view the lady which stands in the midst of the other human and the wraith, and he smiles maliciously and says in an ancient toungue, ""

Reave's calm gaze flicks towards the newly arrived man, his brow creasing almost noticeably at his words. He draws back a few steps, seemingly unaffected by the Priestess' speech, " Perhaps, perhaps so.." is all that he says.

The air changes again, full of ice, and a vibration like the sound of a thousand bells twitches the ear. " Do you think so?" asks a voice from the shadow's song, cruel and thin. " -My- master has thought otherwise. Will you argue with Him?"

Naiara turns as the other one speaks, and frowns as he speaks in words that she cannot understand. When the Wraith addresses this man, she ceases speaking, dropping her gaze to the floor while she waits.

Surion shrinks back noticably from the Nazgul, the wraith's voice causing his skin to crawl. Yet he manages to reply in a calm tone, "You know the answer to that as well as I do. Do not think I would fathom contesting the wishes of our Lord and Master."

" In any event, the Eye deserves far more of the southern realms than idle respect," Reave emphasizes the last word as he paces a few short steps behind the Priestess. He speaks in quiet tones, perhaps more to himself, as he draws his cloak more tightly about his body. Looking up he falls silent, glancing from Surion to the Wraith.

Naiara looks up as the man replies, blinking in surprise at his tone and words. Slowly, she steps backwards, fearful of the wraith's reaction to this. She looks to Reave, but waits to answer his comment.

" It pleases me to know that you remain true in your faith," answers the chilling voice, resounding from the walls, surrounding the body, swallowing the senses. The shadow rises out of the darkness, drinking light, blacker than the dark itself... " Now stand in silence, as you were ordered. Naiara! Address my servant's thoughts."

Naiara nearly jumps as she is addressed, and does as she was commanded immediately. " The Eye has much more than idle respect in the southern realms. There are so few that do not have Faith, and many were lost to the plague. The plague has served as a reminder... and also has opened the gates for the second phase of my plans for the unification of the worship of heroes and the Dark religion in Umbar. The Heroes will be brought under the rule of the Citadel, and will be incorporated into the Faith to bring those that have resisted in. When they are in, there is the third phase... which is showing them the true power of the Eye, now that they are willing to see it. We can use the Heroes, and show the unbelievers that even they did the work of the Eye."

Reave moves to stand against the wall. Remaining silent, he listens intently to what the Priestess has to say, his body occasionally wracked by a cold blast of air from the shadows.

The shade withdraws a bit into the blackness, and the sensation of ice fades with him. " We will think on this," replies the Ringwraith. " But now, I will hear the thoughts of our servitors... speak."

Naiara bows her head, and waits in silence.

Reave steps forward, verily drawn to the chilling presence of the wraith, " Many of the simple people that I had the chance to speak with displayed little interest in this land or its Lord. Perhaps my techniques were too subtle, perhaps not. Suldarthen of the Desert Tower would be the one in which I would place my trust. I judge his heart to be true to the Eye."

Silence reigns in the shadows, as the ringwraith awaits the answer of the other man.

Surion views the void of blackness that lurks in the shadows with hesitant eyes, yet delievers his report on the southern realms. "If we are to have any chance at sending spies successfully into Gondor and Rohan with any degree of success we should do so now. The riders are off in Saruman's realm fighting the barbarians, and the Gondorians are focused on the Corsairs. We have an opportunity before us to plant our spies within their ranks. It is up to you and your fellow wraiths though."

Naiara raises an eyebrow, and a slim smile pulls at her lips, at the mention of the Gondorian distraction with her people, the Corsairs.

The silence continues a moment, and then a hint of cloth brushing the stone floors speaks of the wraith's departure. Words hang in the air as he leaves: " Your service is noticed and will be rewarded. The rest of your kind are summoned: rest until called."

Indur ascends to the horrors above.
Indur has left.

Reave nods at the words of the other Servitor, his thin lips seem slightly pursed. Traces of emotion flash across his face: perhaps frustration as the land of Gondor is mentioned. At the departing words of the nazgul, his shoulders slump. Sighing, he turns and leaves.

At the passing of the wraith, Naiara's knees finally give beneath her and she slips to the floor.