SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL.
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IDENTITY: Bethany Scott Thomasson. . . . LOCATION: LV-426, new colony.
UPLOADING DATA. . . .SESSION COMMENCING.
This will be my last transmission. I do not think I will be alive much longer. Something terrible has happened here. Some sort of creature has invaded our colony, and I think I am the only one they have not yet managed to kill. Everyone else was slaughtered. Even the children.
I’ve seen what these beasts do with my own eyes. Those unfortunate souls they do not kill are taken to their. . .nest. Hive. Whatever that place can possibly be called. And nobody comes back. And now I know why.
I was there. I had to go there. Those creatures took my daughter. I don’t know how I managed to make it there without being found, but I did. I guess those creatures were too busy in their slaughter to notice me.
They have taken over the lowest level of the south power battery. All of the corridors leading there were covered in slime. And the battery room itself. . .I cannot describe it. There were people everywhere. People I knew were strung up on the walls like meat in a smokehouse. Encased in cocoons.
I found my daughter there. She was so frightened. She was crying the whole time I was cutting her free, speaking nonsense about. . .about pale spiders that jumped on people’s heads. I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember.
She’s gone. My daughter. . .she is gone. I don’t know how. I got her out of that horrific place, but she just disappeared as I was running back here. I know it sounds impossible, but she vanished in my arms. One minute, she was there, clinging to me. And the next. . .
Oh. . .oh god. . .I can hear them coming. I barricaded the door, but I can hear them trying to break through.
If anyone gets this message, please. . .do not come for us. We are all done for. Leave this planet to rot. I hope to God that once we’re all dead, these beasts will die of starvation.
And my baby. . .my daughter. I don’t know what happened, but I pray she is somewhere safe. Any place that is better than this. . .though I can’t imagine how any place could be worse. . .
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. . .God. . .oh God. . .No!!
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ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH SIGNAL.
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BROADCAST POINT NO LONGER IN OPERATION.
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* * * * * *
It was a storm the likes of which had never before been seen. The skies above Dol Guldur were darker than the blackest night, lighting setting the skies aflame with blasts of thunder that shook the stone walls of the ancient fortress down to the lowest dungeon cell. The very fabric of the air itself seemed to be straining, as though pressed on all sides by a great force.
The nexus of this devastating disturbance centered on Dol Guldur’s tallest tower, the environment’s reaction to the casting of a massively powerful spell. Standing amidst the chaos was one lone figure, silent and still in the face of the turmoil. Khamûl, the Nazgul second-in-command, waited fearlessly while the other inhabitants of the city cowered in the corners of darkened rooms and fled deep into the bowels of the city in a desperate effort to escape the storm.
Khamûl knew what was happening. His pleasure at seeing the long-awaited plan finally be set into motion was impossible to describe. His master had taken years to prepare for this moment. The moment when his greatest newfound weapon would make its first appearance in Middle-earth.
It was a magic summoning far greater than most of the Valar themselves were capable of. The tendril stretched far beyond the limits of the world Khamûl knew as home. Through time, and space, and the walls of deep cosmic barriers the summoning called. By the will of the Dark Lord alone did it travel, driven by burning desire and wrath. He was attempting to do what it took the combined might of the Valar to accomplish.
Sauron was summoning forth a creature not of Middle-earth. A predator unequaled by any other beast. And the spell was working. Khamûl could sense that something was coming.
The very earth screamed its torment as, with a blinding flash of light, a tiny figure dropped from the open air and onto the cold stone floor at Khamûl’s feet. The wind slowly died, the great magicks fading and scattering asunder. For a moment, the world was silent.
Success. . .
Khamûl stared at the result of his master’s efforts. What he saw before him and what his master called a success was nothing like he had expected. The creature huddled at his feet was no beast, but a small child. But this was no child like Khamûl had ever seen before. Everything about her was unusual. Her clothing, her boots, even the clasps that held her hair back was foreign to his eyes. And when she sat up and turned her frightened eyes to him, the screams she uttered were in a language he had never before heard. Despite himself, he took a small step back.
The dark shadow of his master descended, drawing the child into a petrified silence. Khamûl watched as his master examined his hard-won prize. He could sense his pleasure.
Khamûl did so, focusing his thoughts upon the child, searching within her for whatever it was that made his master so pleased. And, to his astonishment, he met a barrier. It was strong, far stronger than what the child could possibly be capable of. He pushed against it, seeing the child tremble under the strain of his mental invasion. Resistance met his efforts, but it did not last long. Within moments, Khamûl’s mental sense met the force within the child.
He stumbled back. What had met him was a wave of rage so profound it shocked him to his core. It was a rage unpolluted by any kind of humane thought. Even the evil of his master was nothing compared to it. For the first time, Khamûl stood in awe.
“It is magnificent, my master,” he whispered to the shadow. The child had since collapsed in a faint.
Take the child deep into the northern woods. Make sure our enemies find her.
Khamûl bowed and gathered the child in his arms. The rage of the creature within was still striking at him, infuriated by his invasion, but this time it was Khamûl who put up barriers. After a while, the creature drew away, brooding darkly.
He did not know how long it would take for the creature to finally break free. But he would keep watch until it did, and relish in the bloody chaos it was destined to cause in the ranks of his master’s enemies.
This new creature, this new weapon, was something that had never before set foot on the soils of Middle-earth. It was a strange, mysterious, alien rage.
And it was set to be unleashed upon the house of King Thranduil.