Orctober

Winter is stretching its bitter fingers across the lands to the north. Dead leaves rattle upon the hissing winds that bring the cold and first stinging snows to the dying lands. Listen closely, and you will hear another sound: the crackle of a feeble fire, the rustle of an old parchment map, and whispering voices, plotting.

We know the Free Peoples of Middle-earth observed the lives of Melkor's servants, and Melkor sometimes seduced (or coerced) Elves and Mortals to his service. But what about the Orcs? They too came into contact with cultures different from their own, and some doubtlessly braved Melkor's wrath to seek a better life for themselves.

This month's challenge has two parts. Prompts will be spooky-themed and associated with locations on the old parchment map discovered by a troop of Orcs braving the first bitter patrols in the icy north. Each location on the map represents a location where an Orc seeking freedom can find protection, shelter, or objects useful to resistance.

• Fanworks for this challenge do not need to be horror or spooky-themed, nor do they need to be about Orcs or any of Melkor's servants. Any fanwork eligible under our challenge guidelines is a suitable response for this challenge.
• As always, we interpret "prompts" loosely. You can use the prompt itself, the location, the storyline for the location, or the icon for the location. If you don't care about receiving clues to solve the puzzle (see the next paragraph!), you can use the map itself or the broad concept of the challenge. In a challenge about freedom, we are giving you a lot of it!
• A single fanwork can satisfy multiple prompts.

You can, of course, complete the challenge simply by completing one or more prompts. If you would like to go a step further, there is also a puzzle to solve. The whispers around the guttering fire speak of escape from Melkor's enslavement. Will you join this quiet rebellion?

• Each prompt you complete will provide you with a clue that will lead you to an enclave of Free Orcs that is rumored to be entirely protected from Melkor's wrath.
• You can of course strike out bravely on your own, or you can share what you discover with others in your company and set off for a new life together. (The #monthly-challenges channel on our Discord is an excellent place to pass messages to others who might join you with little fear of the Dark Lord overhearing!)
• Once you complete a prompt, you can request the clue for that location using the form here. Clues will be sent out around 8:00 PM Eastern Time each day.

If you think you have found the secret, protected location that is home to a society of Free Orcs, you can email the mods or DM Dawn on Discord. Note that the riddle component of the challenge remains active, so if you are coming to the challenge late and want to play, just fill out the form above to receive clues for the prompts you complete.

This month's spooktacular banner and stamps were created by Independence1776!

This challenge opened in October 2024 .

Prompts

Choose your prompt from the collection below.

View Prompts

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Location	Storyline	Prompt
Mines (Thangorodrim)	Drums.     This deep underground, they shudder the tunnels around you like a distant heart, their rhythm summoning ores from the depths to feed the furnaces. But sometimes there is an extra note, a quick tremor against the skins, that tell of a route skyward. It is too dark to see, but you remember the notes by letting your hammer fall in their rhythm; you know the other People around you when they keep your time.	buried alive
The Long Thirst (Anfauglith)	"If the guards find you, they will not slay you. They will pour your water upon the ground and leave you alive. The earth here gulps down every drop that touches it. Others of the People have left urns of water for refugees. The guards practice archery upon them. Blue-fired sherds glitter amid the dust."	thirstland
Carrionplace (in the Ered Wethrin)	The buzzing flies cover the hum of whispers. You swath your face to keep out the disease and mind your step. The People who work here are inoculated through a thousand tiny cuts soaked in rot. Their unwrapped faces watch you procure your poisons. You must find the right one, the one with the flayed face who slips a vial like gossamer, frail enough to crack in your teeth, in sizes for maiden, crone, man-grown. For the wages of captivity glisten upon her face.	flyblown
The Tunnel (Falls of Sirion)	Barely more than a moment exists between when the ice recedes from the rocks before the Upper Sirion releases her torrent. The blind guide taps the ice with his stick and caresses the rocks with calloused hands. "Now. Go." Should he err or should your feet falter, you will be caught between rock-roof and torrent.	dripping in the dark
Way of Faith (Fen of Serech)	Rumor of a settlement amid the fens brings you forth, though Thangorodrim lies like a poisoned clot on the north horizon. The cold mist clutches you and binds your eyes. You must trust in a work song learned long ago by heart to spell your steps, hummock to hummock. And the song summons them: your own kind, carrying doused candles in memory of the dead. For were the mist to peel away, only the Anfauglith lies between you and the Dark Lord.	mycelium
Mountain of Unspeakable Necessity (Mount Rerir)	The keep is strong with the ancient arts of the West, the walls so thick they swallow sound. The arts of the Dark Master are not preferred by the People but are necessary to our survival, to turning threats to our survival into information. Most People pass quickly here, but if you camp below, you can sleep oblivious to the screams.	dungeon
Labyrinth (Andram)	There is a web of tunnels beneath the hills, delved over the centuries by the People. Within a score of steps, they clutch around you. All sound from above is lost. You must sidle sideways now. Only shuffling feet and an outstretched hand fumble for the way. You trust the People; you will pass to the other side, but now the rock presses your chest—	the tunnel closes
Ruined Bridge (Iant Iaur)	It was once a monster arched across the Esgalduin. First it sagged into senescence, then it toppled into rot. There is a lesson in that, the wise ones say.	decay
Watched Place (Dry River)	This is the place of surveillance and vanishing. Gondolin is fallen but the brigands remain. Their stares press heavier upon the traveler than the silence. They have no grievance with the People. For the right price, any can pass unseen.	eyes
Drowning Place (Firth of Drengist)	A watchtower upon the shore, a humble hump of rocks. The summer surf grasps with the hands of the drowned People. The winter is no better. The ice mutters, it cracks, it screams. It crushes itself in desperation upon the shore, the sea cold upon its back.	the ice cracks; it screams
Broken Place (Tol-in-Gaurhoth)	There is a memory of suffering here that feels like the ache of a poorly healed bone. You make to spit upon it but one of the wise stays you. With the slow toil of the People, he says, it is being remade. Here, all can be remade.	chains scraping against stone
Healing Waters (Ivrin)	These waters heal madness. They are rumored spoiled but that is just because all, even the People, have availed of them.They take your pain as surely as an Elf's or a Man's. Does that make them evil?	as above     so below
Silent Plain (Dor Dínen)	Between Doriath and the Gorgoroth, the anvil and the hammer, the People have settled in silence. Children laugh with voiceless open mouths. Footfalls, toil, even speech—all soundless. Nightmares are muffled into pillows.	stitched shut
Wet Head (Dolmed)	The stones know their fate, their future breaking. Lie your hand upon them and they groan with the premonition of the Sea. Yet they persist, shoulders thrown back in defiance.	foresight
The Tooth (Barad Nimras)	Is that a light struggling through the fog? And has the mist calcified into a broken tower, sharp as a fang, summoning the People? If you dare the crumbling steps to the top, what will you see to the west?	teeth
Waters of Uprising (Tasarinan)	If butterflies are born here, what of the moths? What of those that exist to the delight of none? Whence do they arise? When the willows turn the Narog into stained glass, this is the land of the Shepherds; when they trail into shadow, it is the land of the People. Here, we arise.	wings
Caltrop River (Brilthor)	The river is a road for sneaking, angled just so the light blinds like darts and even the most vigilant turn away. The People walk forth in brightness.	broken glass
Impassable Forest (Taur-im-Duinath)	Stand at the cusp of the forest and sing the right song and the Green Ones will stay their darts. They tolerate the People—likewise uncivilized, unsung—among them. But in the forest that's ever night, falling leaves become fluttering wings, legs skitter up from the mold, branches coalesce from darkness to scratch blood from your face. The Green Ones sing their sorrow. Your hands bat away the unseen, swat at what tickles the back of your neck.	tarsi and pedipalps
The Burned Land (Lothlann)	The histories remember the cavalry of Maglor. The histories remember the Elves. The histories forget the People, camped also on the plain, burned in the same fires but burned like grass, a sacrifice to the splendor of lightning. But you remember. The soft dust beneath your boots: It is their ash.	burning alive