Tag: turambar-masterofdoom

You seem to enjoy terrorising Hurin’s son. What were you actually going to DO with him, if your orcs had brought him back to Angband when you ordered them to? By the looks of it seems more like you want to fuck him than you do torment him.

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Don’t be an idiot, greycloak. I’m trying to spoil his day, ruin something he enjoys, shit on his dreams– the usual. 

If he’d been captured as intended I would have skinned him alive in front of his father what do you think I would have done? Tsch. 

@turambar-masterofdoom

✧ [because it’s not like this poor bastard can have it any worse right?]

Not glutted on misery already, Dragonhelm? Dost thou also require a rope to hang thyself with?

Here: a gift that cannot possibly harm thee! Try not to murder thy friends with it, if thou art able. 

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“Confess” *waggles claw at*

bydoommastered:

Send “Confess” and my muse will confess their true feelings for yours

“There is nothing in my life you have not tainted, nothing in my soul you have not twisted. Your madness lies at the heart of mine. I did not understand the depths of hate until I understood this, and understood you. And, yours, my hateful, twisted soul will endure until the world’s end – and it will be waiting for you.”

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I take some solace knowing that my fated end will come at the hands of someone who truly understands; who has experienced the same hatred I feel towards the One. 

You were only meant to be a tool of discipline, but I seem to have reforged you in the image of myself; just as I was made, and used, and learned to hate who made me.

 It has a wonderful sort of symmetry, don’t you think? 

By the time I see you again, I imagine we’ll both be tired of this wretched charade, and we may meet each other as comrades in oblivion. 

✧ (we’ll send you an artistic arrangement of the artist formerly known as Glaurung in exchange)

Ah, Turin. Charming as always. 

What can I possibly give to thee that will ease the burden of thy fate?

I have the perfect thing: this little cup, carved from the ivory horn of a ancient beast. Pretty, isn’t it? It has many fine qualities; any water drunk from it will be pure and clear, no matter where it was filled; the horn rejects any poison or foulness that contaminates it. Most impressive of all, all who drink from it are filled with a light heart, a sense of comfort that restores wisdom to a clouded head, and peace to a troubled heart. It can be shared betwixt friends for a merry evening, or to ease the cares of a long journey, or bring the light of laughter to sad eyes. 

There is no fault with this cup– no secret thorn amidst its petals. My own magic touched it not, for it was a gift from a Maia of Vana. 

Yet it is terribly, terribly fragile. If any part of it should break, even the most slender carved stem, then the magic will be lost, and the cup will crack and be useless even for drinking. 

It is yours. Do try to be careful. Catch! 

I have a question for you, glittery abomination. What was it in my father that inspired such singular retribution upon himself and his house? Was his affront truly so great that you could not abide the example it set? Or were you simply bored and looking for a toy to practice your malicious desires upon? Or was it something else?

He dared repeat a watery version of my own history back to me, as if he knew it better than myself.
I had never spoken at length with any Second Born who could look me in the eye– imagine my surprise when the words spilling out of him reeked of my brethren’s lies. I hadn’t realized how deeply their foul myths had dug their roots into the realms of men. I hadn’t realized how desperately that garden wanted weeding. An example had to be set. 

…And more than that, I could not abide to have a mortal man, a doomed, miserable race whose species had been dealt the worst hand of all my Father’s creatures– sing his praises before me, as if he truly believed every injustice shat upon him by the Theme was a gift from our Creator. 

I hated him, hated his every word. And more so did I hate the reality I had to show him. Nothing and no one came to his aid. Whatever my savagery, remember it was the gods he trusted who failed to intervene on his behalf. No Valar armies waded over the sea to save his rotting hide as he watched you perform your farce of a life. 

I would not suffer such a wretched fool to have hope in the face of death; not when I, who death touches not, fear its darkness so terribly. 

(Insert gift meme symbol thing here)

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You. I know you to be tireless hunter, fearless in the face of death. Your gruesome claws have found themselves in the hearts of foe AND friend… do you not wish to be free of regret? Is not your utmost desire to escape your past? 
Wear these around your wrist, close to your heart’s blood, and they will free you from guilt, from pain, from conscience. All the world is your enemy; fear no consequence of your vengeance. 

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