Elinor. Fair and beautiful she lies upon the banks of mighty Elebrant. Kingdom of legend. Kingdom of despair.

It is the Fourth Age and all things that have put forth life are now in peril. A Wizard-King rules in the cold North, and his heart is blacker than the night. Themunil, he was called of old, and men praised his justice and fairness. Stern and proud he sat on the Throne of Clouds, ruling over men and beasts. Upon his fair head sat the Elder Diadem and he held the White Scepter of Elinor in his unwavering hand.

Nearly a century ago, a darkness rose in the smoking mountains of Durbatur, near the roof of the world in the very far north. In the beginning, rumours spoke of a nameless menace turning snow into ash. Then, they had a name for it. Tamas, they called it - the Black Wind. It was a formless, brainless evil - seeping out from the very cracks of Creation. Mindless, it moved across the land, scorching air and earth alike, devouring life and turning everything into putrid ash and darkness as it spread.

Mighty Themunil rode out to meet the foe, and was met by misshapen creatures twisted by the mindlessness of Tamas. They were men, but twisted and turned beyond recognition into bestial fighters as mindless as the power that birthed them. The men called them Grulms and slayed them by the thousands. In the end, Themunil rode into the very Pit of Darkness with his seven faithful guards to face the faceless. The power of darkness fought with the might of light. For 18 days the duel raged while his seven guards formed a circle around him. At the end of it, Themunil seemed to have sealed the rent and denied the Dark Power entry into the world of men.

But so spent was he and his brethren that they lay there in the darkness, untouched by time or thought. Outside, the people grieved for their heroic king, sang his praise and returned to their homes. Themunil, to them, had passed on to legend. But within, the King and his men were trapped in an eternal slumber - the final counterstroke of the Darkness.

Now, long after memory has faded into myth, the king awakens. There in that boundless void, when all light left him, he had strayed too far and touched the very thing he had fought. At that moment, the mindless power had flowed into him, replacing the pulse of life with the beat of darkness. The mindless darkness now had a mind and a form. A terrible mind and a powerful form.

Now he reemerges as Gengorid - the King of the Night. Fair Elinor - that mighty kingdom which he once ruled and which forgot him - lies in his path and in his mind. For the world to kneel under his feet in eternal night, Elinor must fall and never rise again.

But hidden deep in the scroll room of the Hall of the Sun is a promise of hope. A few lines of prophecy speak of a hope in the coming darkness. But can these simple words point the path to victory against the coming darkness? Who shall stand against the march of the Wizard-King and his Dreadlords? Who shall lead the people from the eternal night into a new dawn?

Those interested can put down their desires, questions or doubts here. Once there are enough, I will start accepting CS.

[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/79217-the-white-company/ooc]The OOC link[/url]