Kyouki Mari's Story

Kyouki stared out over the landscape from her perch between two spires of the upper watch-tower. It jutted out from the side of the mountain itself, and rose in seven peaks, a little dip between each one. Her small body fit very well in the little spot between the two in the front of the tower, and her eyes were unmoving as she looked into the distance beyond Mirkwood, the great forest. She liked the way the Misty Mountains rose up behind it, struggling to be seen in the dull grey shadows the clouds cast over them in patches.
Faint noises drifted up from below her in Erebor's vast courtyard, and her gaze slowly wandered down to see what was happening. She could see about three-hundred dwarves gathering on the stone paving- preparing for battle? Her curiosity was immediately roused, pulling her out of her dream-like state and back into reality. Kyouki wondered if they were simply taking precautions, or if orcs had already penetrated the borders again. She hoped for the first, but feared the latter. Hardly a day went by without an attack, and so many dwarves lost their lives needlessly in the mad rampages.
She slipped off her perch, landing on the inside of the tower and stepping into the mountain through the small door cut into the stone of the wall. She quickly descended the stairs to ground level and ran outside into the courtyard where the soldiers had just started toward the north of the Mountain. Kyouki watched them leave, standing alone on the massive stone slabs. She knew that most of the men she saw would never return home.
A silent tear slid down her cheek as she suddenly wondered if she knew any of them. Who had just gone to their doom? They were almost out of sight now, so there was no use in calling out.
She hoped the envoy they had sent to Mirkwood was safely delivering their plea for aid to the Elvenking. He was a good diplomat, so she felt sure he could convince them.
Kyouki shivered suddenly as a strange feeling of horror came over her. Her vision blurred and the world became a globe of dying color. And so she stood, alone in the huge, empty courtyard, lost to the world for a time as she was again submerged into a land of dreams- only this time they were nightmares.

When Kyouki came to herself again it was past dark. How long had she been standing in the empty courtyard? From the position of the moon, it would be safe to guess about three or four hours. And if it wasn't so cold, she could easily have been there for far longer.
She didn't understand what made her do it- the long periods of what seemed like unconsciousness, when she no-longer saw the living world, but a strangely distorted version that swayed and rippled like grey mist on a clear pond. She saw things then that no mortal would be able to see... like the dead body of a dwarf lying inches deep in a decaying mixture of blood and leaves. She saw images of the dead often, but rarely were they recognizable to her. And this one she knew well.
Kyouki brought both hands to her head, forcing her breaths in and out. "It's okay," she whispered, though there was no-one there to hear. "It's all okay, it's alright, he's fine, it's not real, none of it's...." she bit back a sob, "None of it's real......."
But it was always real. And she knew it.
Not that anyone else ever believed her. And that was what hurt. She could see these things, but as long as she was viewed as crazy, she could do nothing about them.
Solidly refusing to cry, she turned to enter the mountain's main gate when a thought struck her and she pulled up short. The envoy! He was carrying the messages to the elvenking, and now those messages would never be delivered. The elves would not show peace toward the immigrants of the Blue Mountains, and they would most certainly not come to the aid of Erebor during the war.
Making up her mind quickly, Kyouki turned and ran in the opposite direction, towards Esgaroth, the Long Lake, and Mirkwood. Thranduil had to be reached- the elves had to know of their plight. And now that she had taken it upon herself to deliver the messages, she was determined that nothing could keep her from the Mirkwood king.

Kyouki swept through Laketown, quickly stopping at a small shop to pick up a handfull of food items and a small satchel. With the bag slung over her shoulder, and the moon still high in the sky, she set out along the north bank of the Long Lake toward Mirkwood Forest.
Her black leather boots pressed lightly into the damp soil, leaving a small line of tracks which soon were erased by lakewater. Her mind wandered as she stared distantly at the forest, trying to reclaim the image of her dead kinsman while effectively desensitizing herself to the thought. It was real, she told herself. The things she saw were always real. But where the strange thoughts came from, she could not tell. Apparently none of her kinsmen experienced the absence of physical form as she could, and almost all were convinced that was insane, if not posessed.
As morning drew nearer, she began to approach the edge of the forest. She could just make out the slight path along the river, beaten down by years of barrel transporation between Laketown and the Elven Realm.
Her feet found the trail easily enough, once she reached the treeline, and soon it widened out to a lane of sorts. She slowed her pace a little, searching the surrounding space with her mind, even though her skills didn't quite work like that. She could tell that there was some sort of action taking place nearby- but as to what it was, she could not say. Only that the smell of death was becoming stronger.

The sun must be up outside of the trees by now, though from the path through Mirkwood that could hardly be known. Kyouki paused when she reached the body of the dwarf she had seen in her head nearly twelve hours ago. The features had been somewhat distorted, but it was him, and she knew it. She dared not touch him, for she did not know what could be lurking nearby, and stopping for very long could prove dangerous, even here. Especially here. But she did whisper a dwarven farewell, and a blessing before she moved on, deeper and deeper into the forest. The elven palace could not be far now, could it? These woods spread hundreds of miles in all directions, and it had been a couple years since Durin's folk had ventured in. But the Elvenking had been fair with them, making the peace treaty and trading occasionally. She should be fine.... unless whatever had killed their envoy was somewhere nearby... She glanced about, growing warier.

(Let's get this shit revived, people :3 I tagged all of you so you would know my intention. We must get this ball rolling again!)
It is a beautiful, clear-skied day. The sun shines bright on a field of pure blue, illuminating the flowing green and gold fields of Eastemnet, much to the chagrin of Gorthak the Piercer, one of the leaders of Saruman's Fighting Uruk-hai. He looks over his shoulder at his legion, shielding his eyes from the annoyance that is the sun and growling at the competence of his troops. He prides himself on having one of the best-trained troops in Isengard's force, though the accuracy of that is disputed by some. Today, though, he simply needs to kill something. He hasn't seen battle in a long while, and executing incompetent Orc Snagas had gone from fun to grating. If he didn't get to feast on some man-flesh prior to getting to Helm's Deep, he just might go mad(er).

As luck would have it, heading in their direction was a large detachment of Rohirrim Forces, lead by an equally ill-tempered Rohan Captain named Mordren whose weary men had just had a run in with White Hand warg riders. They had defeated the riders with few casualties, but the experience of chasing down and killing riderless wargs was one that could make any man or horse tired and annoyed, and his men had the same general feeling. Currently he just wanted to run into some small band of Uruk-hai or Orc scouts to make short work with an raise the morale of his men.

Neither were close enough to spot each other just yet, but their meeting is inevitable, and wherever the Horse Lords and the White Hand meet, there's sure to be blood, black or red...

(Also...ignore the "Ian" character I tagged. He'd been rejected already. Not sure how he got on there.)