#tirrith

[oh-no-eu-didnt]

The Tirrith were a sentient gaseous species native to the planet Beheboth, in the Outer Rim. Possessing a strong telepathic and empathetic hive link, each part of a Tirrith hive shared thought and sensation. When working in conjunction, the Tirrith were able to use powerful abilities, including the ability to control the atmosphere of their home.

Source: Star Wars Gamer 7 (Art: Lars Grant-West; 2001)

First Appearance: Star Wars 66 (1982)

Read more on Wookieepedia

[talankry]

Pied Piper

Tal stood before the crowd of angry villagers, rallied into a frenzy by the corrupt official standing at the podium. Itchy squeaked indignantly from his perch on the goblin king’s shoulder, which only served to incite further accusations.

“He carries the filth with him! This is no respectable ranger! He is but a fraud and a pox on our society! Greedy and deceitful!” The official was red in the face and spittle sprayed from his wet mouth. Behind Tal, the human battle mage Markus, and the orcish barbarian Tesh bristled. They reached for their weapons as the closest row of villagers raised their farm tools in threat to their goblin companion.

“Filth?” Tal asked. “If that’s the way of it, I see no reason to assist this town. Nor do I think I’ll carry your appeal to Lady Tirrith.” He drew his guild crests from inside his jacket pocket. One of the Rangers Guild of the Black Tip mountains, and the other belonging to the Honor of the Dragon. Villagers murmured doubt and lowered their weapons in confusion. “No,” he continued, “I think I’ll pass my own judgement. The village fell to an unchecked infestation. There was no saving it.”

Shadows, small and numerous beyond counting began to crawl from under foundations and out of windows. Thousands of rats and mice spilled into the dusty streets and Tal watched as the official’s face fell from haughty confidence to abject horror. The swarms of tiny furry bodies advanced on the crowd with glowing eyes and gnashing teeth. Tal needed only say one more thing.

“Kill him.”

[sickly-stitches]

THE BEACONS OF MINNIS TIRRITH THE BECONS ARE LIT GONDOR CALLS FOR AID