Resettling the Lost Kingdom Discussion Thread

[piosenniel]

The X Phial, Belin, Susan Delgado invite you to play:

Title: Resettling the Lost Kingdom


Basic Storyline: Arnor was once the Northern Kingdom of the Numenorean Kings, destroyed in constant warring with the Witch King of Angmar. After his coronation, King Elessar vowed to rebuild Arnor, unifying the lands of Middle-earth under his rule and bringing civilization to the formerly glorious kingdom.

People from the Kingdom of Gondor have volunteered themselves and their families for the arduous task of establishing the first new Arnorian city. About 500 people set off from Minas Tirith and along the way they have lost members and also picked up volunteers from other kingdoms. The settlers are a mixed group of people: farmers, scholars, builders, soldiers, men, women, and children. They plan to settle at Lake Evendim. However, on reaching Arnor, they have made contact with the resident Hillmen, who resent the Gondorian presence on their land.

Also waiting for the settlers in Arnor are the Rangers, long the enemies of Hillmen, and masters of the wilderness: the decendents of Arnor's original nobility. This story follows three groups: the settlers, the rangers, and the hillmen as they fight for survival in the Lost Kingdom of Arnor.

[piosenniel]

The purpose of the story is to: establish a safe and stable place to live in the realm of Arnor.

This means we will know the story is over when: when the Hillmen have been defeated or a truce is reached.

Starting location: site where Evendim Town will be settled

Likely destination: Evendim Town settlement

_____________________________________________

Timeframes:

This game takes place in the 4th Age at around year 5.

The storyline itself or plot covers 6 months.

This game requires a time commitment of 2 months (8 weeks) from me, the game owner and from the major players.

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Characters needed:

____________________________________________


SETTLERS:

5 Men of Gondor, Bree, or Rohan: settlers - can be any age and gender

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

RANGERS OF THE NORTH

3 or 4 Dunedain – prefer male; one female possible - primarily hunters and fighters against Hillmen

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

HILLMEN

4 Hillmen: prefer male; one female possible – 3 warriors and possibly 1 priest

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

BUILDERS

3 Dwarves of the Blue Mountains: – all male – contracted to build Evendim Town

____________________________________________


Character types that would NOT belong:

Elves, Hobbits, any character not included above

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Owners will play 1 character each:

An ex soldier of Gondor, leader of the settlers. (played by The X Phial)

The chief of the Hillmen. (Played by Belin)

The leader of the Dunedain. (Played by Susan Delgado)

One Dedicated Role: Ithilien Ranger - male - who accompanied the settlers northward and joins the fight against the hillmen. (Bethberry)

[piosenniel]

The X Phial’s Character:

NAME: Borgand

AGE: 43

RACE: Man of Gondor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Borgand carries his Gondorian army sword and two daggers: one at his waist and one in his boot. He is proficient with bow and spear as well, but does not generally carry them on his person.

APPEARANCE:
Borgand is a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. He has the lean and muscular build of a soldier in his prime, and neither his hair nor his beard are yet touched with grey. He wears his hair to his shoulders in the style of soldiers from Minas Tirith. Unlike active soldiers, however, Borgand is missing his left leg from the knee down. In its place is a carved wooden post. For this reason he walks with a limp and has been known to use a cane to help support himself when tired. He retains his ability to walk and run over short distances, but requires a horse for long journeys

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Borgand is a proud man and an excellent soldier. He is deadly in hand to hand combat, whether armed or not, but his balance and speed have been compromised by the loss of his leg. Always a strong-willed man, Borgand is a natural leader and was a captain before his injury left him without a commission in the army. He is a loving, if sometimes gruff, husband and father. His mood was very bad right after his injury, but the trek north has given him a renewed sense of purpose.

Borgand’s greatest weakness is his temper, which has gotten much shorter since his dismissal from the army. He is patient with those he considers weaker than himself, but has a tendency to lose his tact when dealing with an equal who behaves foolishly or betrays a trust. He also knows very little about much besides soldiering, though he has made an attempt to understand the basics of building on the journey northwards. Borgand has no problems delegating to someone with a better expertise when need be, but it does gall him slightly when he cannot accomplish something on his own.

HISTORY:
Borgand was the son of a Gondorian army captain, and all he ever wanted to be was a soldier. He spent his first few years with his mother in an outlying town of Gondor, but they both moved to Minas Tirith to be with his father when he was made a captain. As a captain’s son, he was the leader of the other boys in his neighborhood and grew up with a will to lead and defend the things he loved.

Borgand served in the army, and was promoted through the ranks quickly, until the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. In the thick of battle his regiment was cut off from the gate and set upon by orcs from all sides. Borgand cut a path for his men to the gate, losing only 4 out of nearly 100. At the gate he stood his ground in order to give his men a few more minutes to get to safety, and it was then that a blow from an unseen enemy severed his leg. He lost consciousness and was dragged from the field, only to awaken the next day wishing he was dead.

A long period of recovery followed, and then harrowing months spent relearning to walk and run on a wooden peg. The recovery was slowed by Borgand’s feeling that he had lost his purpose, and only the quiet insistence of his wife and the sad eyes of his young son kept him working toward his goal of mobility.

Three years after the marriage and ascension of the king, and after a year of idleness after Borgand’s full recovery, word went out that Elessar was looking for volunteers to resettle the former kingdom of Arnor. The king would supply the company well, it was said, but the accomplishment was to be its own reward. Borgand, who at one time had felt he could never leave Minas Tirith, felt a yearning to be useful again. He reasoned that even a one-legged man might have a purpose in a wild land. After many discussions with his wife, they decided to chance the journey. To his surprise, when he went to volunteer, he found that his former commander had already recommended him to be the leader of the settlers.

A year later he rode out of Minas Tirith at the head of a caravan some 500 people strong. The group included people from all backgrounds and professions, and Borgand had set the former soldiers to ride the flanks. Also accompanying the settlers was a Ranger out of Ilithien, an expert in wilderness survival. The two had a professional relationship, if sometimes a rather uneasy one. The tale of the journey would be a book unto itself, but the band encountered many hardships, lost a number of members, and also took on volunteers from Rohan and other inhabited lands along the way before they finally reached their destination nearly nine months later. Borgand is weary, but he has the hope and fears of the settlers on his shoulders. He is determined that the first town in the renewed Kingdom of Arnor will be a success.

*+*+*+*+*+*+

The X Phial’s post

The westering sun was in Borgand’s eyes as he crested the last hill to his destination. Below him the surface of Lake Evendim shone red and the hills beyond seemed tipped with gold. It was a beautiful sight, made all the more lovely by the fact that this was to be his new home. He signaled to those behind him to come forward into the light and heard each new arrival’s breath catch in wonder. The settlers had made it at last, they were in Arnor.

Borgand urged his horse down through the meadow toward the edge of the lake. As he went he looked at the land. It seemed lush after the long journey. He had not seen a field so green since the band left Rohan so many months before. A winter and many miles had passed since that time, and Borgand welcomed the seeming abundance. His horse reached the water and stopped to drink. Borgand turned then to see the weary travelers descending the hill into the meadow, faces open and smiling. Even those who had taken ill in the long winter months, his own son included, were lighter in step and countenance as they streamed into the meadow.

As the final rays of the sun set behind the hills, the travelers were busy setting up a camp as they had every night for the past nine months. This night, however, Borgand heard no grumbling, only laughter. They set their camp in a circle out of long habit; circular camps were the easiest to defend. Borgand walked through the camp, soon to be the new city, and smiled at those he saw. His body was exhausted, despite the elation of his spirit, and he was leaning heavily on his cane, dragging his wooden leg a bit. Here and there he stopped to talk to someone and share the wonder they all felt at finally being at Evendim. This was the place they had decided on long before in Gondor as the most likely for the first settlement of the restored kingdom of Arnor. The king, who knew the lands well, had given his approval.


The ex-soldier reached his wife’s accustomed spot and saw that the teenaged sons of a fellow ex-soldier had already erected his family’s tent. He nodded his thanks and they ran off, suddenly full of energy despite their tiredness. Illith was starting a fire, getting ready to begin making the evening meal and Bregand, Borgand’s son had fallen asleep in his blankets. The boy was 6 and had suffered from a terrible illness on the journey. Only the constant care of Illith had brought him through the winter. Even so, he was pale and small. Borgand hoped that the wholesome air of Arnor would restore the boy quickly.

Borgand stopped his wife’s activity for a moment and pulled her into an embrace.

“We are finally here, Illith. Evendim! I thought I would never see the day.”

“Yes, love,” she answered, holding him closely. “We are here, home. But I never doubted you would get us here.”

They ate together and Bregand woke to play with his father and eat his supper. Borgand had responsibilities, however, and couldn’t afford to spend the long hours with his family he once again craved. While recovering from his injuries he had been so sick of his family that he wasn’t sure he would make it one more day. After their long journey, however, he wanted nothing more than to spend a quiet evening with Illith and Bregand.

He made the rounds again and set a watch. The feeling of joy at arrival had sent most of the settlers into a state of carelessness that Borgand knew was premature. From across the water the sound of wolves howling suddenly sent the camp into silence. An answering howl followed, and then another. The night seemed altogether darker, and families decided it was a good idea to send their children to bed. Borgand sighed and signaled the watch. He decided he would turn in as well. The camp was secure and fire should keep the wolves away. Before retiring he found the Ilithien and they agreed that he would scout the area to find the best location in the morning. Tomorrow the settlers would start felling trees for the building of a temporary wall. Borgand wondered how long it would be until the carts of rock and supplies from the Blue Mountains would arrive, as promised by the contract with the dwarves. The builders themselves they had already met coming in from the Western Road. Until a stone wall could be built, however, a wooden one would have to suffice. The journey was over, but the dangers were just beginning.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Bethberry’s Character:

NAME: Calumdril

AGE: 40ish

RACE: Man, of the Dúnedain of the South, that is, of the people of Ithilien (the descendants of the Men of the Westernesse) who had been dispersed by the enemy when Gondor lost control of Ithilien.

WEAPONS: His knowledge of wood lore, wilderness survival, and tracking; two knives, one on his belt behind his back and the other hidden in his boot; handy with the bow, less so with spear or sword; trained in stealth and reconnaissance rather than fighting; also carries a horn.

APPEARANCE: an agile and slender figure, with a slight but wiry build; of average or perhaps even short height, yet with a presence which can gain attention when he speaks up, which is not often; his skin is fair, but weathered; his hands chaffed and cracked; his fingers have known frostbite. His dark hair is salted with grey at the temples, his face sombre, sedate, serious; his grey eyes, lined with wrinkles, survey crowds, people's faces, terrain, surroundings not obviously, but with a wary regard, as if hiding or masking himself. Both his hearing and his sense of smell remain acute.

PERSONALITY/ STRENGTHS/ WEAKNESSES:

Calumdril is a calm, quietly sociable man who rarely loses his temper. He appears to act from patience and deliberation rather than from passion and can be seen as standoffish. Behind this reticence is a great sadness with the weaknesses of the race of Men.

Endeavouring to be polite and civil and without great worldly ambition, he rarely seeks a prominent position and can become uncomfortable if such is thrust upon him. He is more a leaders' trusted advisor than a leader himself and is more comfortable with small groups of people than large. Thus, individual families of the settlers will come to know him well and like him, but in terms of large group dynamics, he is often not particularly well-liked. He has a great depth to his inner life and private contemplations.

HISTORY: While technically a Soldier of Gondor, Calumdril has spent most of his adult life stationed with the garrison at Henneth Annun and is more a scout than a soldier. He did not fight in the Battle of Pelennor
Fields but was instead involved in reconnaissance behind the battle.

With the war at an end, he has been decommissioned but there are few jobs available for a man of his age and his skills. Joining the caravan is a logical step but it is an extraordinary move for him to leave
Ithilien. It is a step that may have saved him from becoming the kind of forest recluse who comes to be feared by conventional members of the populace.

Calumdril was an Ithilien forest boy whose family history is unremarkable. No family tragedies marred his psychological development.

He was the third child in a family of five children who naturally gravitated towards the forest solitude. Always shy around girls, he never married, although he can forge friendships with women who are older than him or with his friends' wives. His grandfather taught him how to run a trap line and hunt, but his first experience of trapping a live animal, alone in the forest one winter, convinced him never to trap animals again. He would hunt for his food, but not trap for furs.

*+*+*+*+*+*+

Bethberry’s post


Crouching disinterestedly by the lakeshore, Calumdril had watched the first settlers reach the crest of the hill and then suddenly halt in amazement at the sight of Lake Evendim. It had shimmered in the setting sun like ripe, red fruit rippling on the laden branches of serviceberry shrubs in a gentle breeze. It was almost unbelievable to many of them that the long trek was over and they forgot exhaustion in the awe of arrival. He had watched them mass slowly at the top of the hill and then with sudden quick movement descend to the shoreline and begin animated talk. So unlike him, who had not even yet relaxed into simple pleasure and delight that the long trek had ended.

Calumdril had ridden ahead of the caravan and scouted the lake's shoreline to find the best favoured site for the first night's camp. He had found a small level plain, not too rocky, and had left a small stake with a green flag flying to signal where the caravan should camp for the night. Rocks had played havoc with many of the horses' ankles, and the settlers had lost valuable animals on the long trek. The shoreline was strew with boulders for many miles and the lake bed itself salted with boulders, stones, large rocks, many showing lines of scratches and etches. Calumdril guessed glaciers might have dug out the lake. The rocky shoreline made Calumdril happy, for it lessened the chance of any attack from across the water.

He had then tracked the nearby bush for telltale signs of the Hillmen. There were, eerily, many signs and he could tell that he himself had been observed as he searched for signs of them. Five, perhaps six, of the Hillmen had hidden in the bushes, then brushed out their tracks. Yet he could find broken twigs where bodies had rushed too closely by trees, dust settled on leaves where none should have reached, the small undergrowth of the forest showing crushed fungi and flowers where bare feet had trod. This was no virgin land Aragorn had sent the settlers to, but territory over which strange tribes held dominion.

Calumdril stood up and walked towards the encampment site. Borgand, his face animated, even ebullient, was busily overseeing the setup, receiving the congratulations of the many settlers who had for some time begun to dispair of ever arriving. Calumdril quietly circulated, speaking a few words to some of the men who would be watching with him that night, and arranging for others who would escort him out the next day to survey the official site for the log walls and cabins of the new city. Finally he sought out Borgand's tent.

"How fares Bregand?" he inquired of the young boy whose face had so often appeared feverish.

"He fares well. For the first time he ate a full meal before returning to his bed. And now it is time for your meal, Calumdil. You won't get to speak with Borgand until you put some nourishment into that wiry flesh of yours," Illith chastized him gently. Calumdil smiled. Illith reminded him of his second oldest sister and he was quite happy to play younger brother with her.

"I'll eat only if your food is tasty tonight," he joked in return.

"Tut! It will stick to the walls of your ribs. That's all you need worry about for tonight," she retorted, gently shoving him into a chair by the makeshift table. He ate with an unruffled manner, asking Illith about the final day's journey, Borgand's and her thoughts for the settlement, the boy's health. He brushed aside any of her concerned questions about the site and then rose quickly, excusing himself to find Borgand and deliver his news about the presence of the Hillmen.

[piosenniel]

Susan Delgado’s Character:

Name: Thorgil

Race: Northern Dunèdan

Age: 74

Thorgil is tall and robust, a large man, but able to move with the delicacy of a trained Ranger. He is taciturn by nature and rarely speaks if he has nothing to say. His demeanor is grim, his features craggy with weather and with his own adamant nature.

He is trusted implicitly by his men; they would gladly put their lives down for their leader, and they know he would do the same for them.

If there is a ‘typical’ Dunèdain story, Thorgil has lived it. He was born in a semi-permanent tent camp on the shore of Lake Evemdim, not far, in fact, from where the settlers have come now, though of course the camp is long gone. He is not the son of a leader, but his father is well respected among the other Rangers and Thorgil learned much about being a Ranger from him.
On one of his travels as a young man, he met another band of Rangers, liked them, and moved into their camp. He became well liked and respected and when the old leader died, Thorgil was chosen as his successor by his intelligence and his strength of character, and by his unswerving loyalty toward King Ellessar, whom he fought beside at the Battle of Pellenor Fields and was very impressed with. He has been leader of his camp for nearly twenty-five years, and likely will be for some time yet.

The Rangers’ enemies in this part of Arnor are the wild hillmen, who often waylay travelers, killing them and taking their goods as spoils. Thorgil’s camp has set themselves the task of preventing this highway robbery and protecting any and all who wish to travel in Arnor.

=================================

Susan Delgado’s post

Thorgil rose before the dawn, knowing the first thing he had to do. There was a large group of people camped on the lake shore; he had to find out who they were and why they were here. He quickly prepared and slipped out of camp before the sun had fully cleared the horizon. He didn’t miss the girl, Alearindu slipping out after him, but he would let it go as long as she remained silent and hidden.

He watched the crowd set up camp along the lakeshore. They must be settlers, why else would they come in such numbers, and with women and children’ He was not without a touch of bitterness at the thought. Travelers were one thing and easy to protect from the hillmen, but a settlement, an actual town, would be something else altogether. He glanced at the sky; the light was brightening quickly. He watched them and waited for them to stir for the day.. He did not have long to wait; before long, women began stirring up the coals for cooking fires and men rose and stretched and gossiped about their neighbors. To a man they seemed in high spirits and he wondered how long they had been traveling for their arrival to induce such jollity. He shook his head at their antics. They would learn soon enough what a harsh land this could be.

At last the seeming leader of the camp appeared at the entrance to his tent, stretching and scratching himself in places that would make a woman or a younger man blush. Thorgil ignored it, however, and approached the man as a near equal, for even in his undergarments he had the bearing of a soldier, and did not seem surprised at the appearance of a stranger. He was missing a leg; his body was propped up on a wooden post attached to the stump. Thorgil would never trust himself to such a flimsy substitute.

After introductions and formal words of courtesy, Thorgil got down to business, warning Borgand and the crowd that had gathered about the presence of dangerous hillmen in the area and promising the aid of the Rangers in protecting the settlement. Borgand was appreciative and assured Thorgil that there were quite a few ex-soldiers among the settlers and they would gladly aid the Rangers. He also asked for one or two Rangers, if they were willing to help, to aid in defense until the settlement got on its feet. Thorgil told the man he would ask his men for a volunteer. Borgand nodded in appreciation. There were murmurs of assent from the crowd, and all seemed relieved. Thorgil nodded around and slipped back to the Rangers’ camp to apprise the men of the situation and elicit volunteers to stay in the settlement.

When he arrived and gathered them together,, there was some grumbling from the men about how it wasn’t their job to be protecting settlers like that, and what were settlers doing here anyway’ What did they think they were doing here in this dangerous northern waste’ Thorgil waited patiently for them to be quiet and ten told them he would need one or two volunteers to stay in the settlement until it had established itself. There was silence for a moment as they considered this. He glanced around the group; they seemed unlikely to volunteer when a voice came from the back of the crowd. "I'll go, I'll do it."

He looked up, surprised. The voice was Awyrgan’s, the last person he would expect to volunteer. As he watched the man, Awrygan added, ‘I'll watch them, but from the outside only unless circumstances require otherwise," Thorgil nodded, still bemused, but willing to let the man go to the settlement, though he was still fairly young, and unproven. He glanced around one last time and noticed the girl Alearindu watching Awrygan with an expression he could not identify. He considered for a moment. Two heads there would be better than one, though these particular heads could each be more reliable, and it would keep them both still in the same place and easy to keep an eye on. He said to Awrygan, ‘Alearindu shall accompany you.’ Both seemed startled, but made no objections. They went off to prepare and the rest of the men dispersed.

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Belin’s Character:

NAME: Wolf

AGE: 39. The lives of the Hillmen are neither luxurious nor lengthy, and this is on the old side for a chieftain, as they are expected to be strong and vigorous. He is both of those, so far, and anticipates five or six more years of leadership before he slowly and quietly relinquishes actual power to his successor, though he will keep his title until the end of his life.

RACE: Hillman

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Spear and axe. He can also use a bow at a pinch.

APPEARANCE: Wolf is short, stocky, and dark. To the Gondorians he no doubt seems very ugly, but in the eyes of his own people, his great beard and his thick dark hair make him an impressive figure, despite the fact that his height is unremarkable even by Hillman standards. Behind this thicket of hair, his eyes are dark and penetrating in his serious and nearly unreadable face. Though thick and well muscled, he is still agile and quick, and his spear is renowned among the people of his tribe. Gray is beginning to creep into his hair, and his massive hands are no longer as flexible as they once were, but he is still a good warrior, and, as they say, a wise one.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Wolf is an experienced and cautious leader whose main concern is holding everyone together. He’s seen a great deal of upheaval, and one thing he has learned is that squabbling and indecision, so common when people are frightened, usually lead to disaster. He is therefore strict and demanding, tolerating little or no backtalk, though he will, on rare occasions, listen to a very forceful argument made to him in private by someone he respects. He is seen as stiff and inflexible, and though he is not short tempered when he does not need to be, he considers his words to be final.

Less obvious to his people is his careful and constantly changing assessment of the abilities and worth of each of them; if his decisions are unassailable they are at least not arbitrary. He takes no unnecessary risks, he does not panic, and he does nothing without a good idea of what could happen. Unfortunately, he does little to communicate this to the others, so many of his people dislike him thoroughly, though there are few who do not acknowledge the value of his leadership. As might be expected, he has few advisors and fewer friends.

He does everything properly according to the rules of his people, and even his greatest detractors know that they can trust him, but he is rather different with respect to foreign people, and his battle tactics tend to the devious.

HISTORY: Wolf has lived in this region for his entire life, never roaming farther to the north or east than that North Downs or to the west farther than Lake Evendim, though difficulties in finding food have sometimes brought him almost as far south as Bree. He was born in a small, nameless village near the lake, though in truth it barely deserved even the name of “village.” Wolf’s childhood, like that of many others, was spent largely in the pursuit of food, and of other comforts where he could find them. He was always a hunter of beasts and of eggs and edible plants, and, as for such luxuries as warm clothes and blankets, he was not above the large-party quarry of wealthy travelers, though his spoils in such cases went first to his mother and younger brothers, who did not accompany him in such raids.

In the early years of his adolescence, certain village youths organized a concentrated effort to drive away their ancient enemy, the Dúnedain, who had become increasingly troublesome in recent years. It was not that there were more of them, exactly, but they had taken to watching such villages closely, as if they were anxious about something, as if they were planning for a war. With grim determination and a good deal of death, the Hillmen managed to discourage them straying too close to any of these villages; after all, the Hillmen, though few, were far more numerous than the Rangers. Wolf distinguished himself in these efforts by his determination and cool-headed leadership, as well as his remarkable skill with a spear, and soon afterward he found himself spending a great deal of time with the chief of his town, learning a great deal and eventually, much to his surprise, making important and difficult decisions about town matters. When the old man died, Wolf took his place, as is the custom with Hillmen. According to the customs of the Hillmen, the leader has remained unmarried.

His time of leadership saw the remarkable year when all the Dúnedain disappeared entirely (only to return, disappointingly, the next summer) and handfuls of Dunlendings began to come north with stories of old men and mighty wars. Wolf himself put little trust in such wild rumors, which were so prolific and contradictory that no Hillman could tell what they meant, but many of his people were gravely disturbed, and he focused on keeping them calm, occasionally leading a hunt personally in order to reassure them of their strength. They hunted beasts, mostly, as travelers had been fewer and fewer.

Now, five years after that remarkable time, rumors continue to flow thick, and now, much to Wolf’s dismay, some of them at least seem more accurate than they once did. A group of foreigners has settled on the shore of the lake, along a trail they had often used for hunting.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Belin’s post

Unseen in the dim light, Wolf stared down from the side of the hill at the path along the lake where he had been so often of late. He hoped that none of the younger hunters had been foolish enough to leave traces of their presence, not that this weary group of travelers with their formerly fine clothing seemed very likely to be capable of any decent tracking. They moved along carelessly, many of them on horses as travelers so often were, talking and laughing among themselves as if they were alone in the wilderness and free from unfriendly eyes. A murmur went up as they descended the hill, and they stared at the lake as if they had never seen one before.

Wolf was aware that, unobtrusive as he was in his drab garb and earth-colored skin, any of them could have seen him if they looked carefully up at the hill, but moving was more dangerous still, and besides, they were fools and spent all their attention on the lake and the meadow before them, and on each other. It was principally the children that looked around, and he did not think that any of their eyes had lighted on him. Do they train all the sense out of them on purpose? he wondered irritably.

The presence of the children was not a surprise to him. He had received news of this group from several of his more reliable trackers, and had come to see for himself. As they had promised, it was a larger group of travelers than any he had ever seen, whole families and many of them, and with even more gear than he might have expected them to carry. In fact, they were unlike any travelers he had ever seen, more tattered and slow-moving certainly, and they looked at the lake differently. He was nearly certain he did not like the way they looked at the lake. He wondered for a moment how far they had come, and what business they possibly have out here. There were those who speculated that they were staying, and listening to the relief in the voices that floated toward him, Wolf had begun to believe it. He watched them for a few moments longer, sick children, tired women, and a crippled man who bore himself with surprising authority. As darkness fell, he moved off slowly and silently around the hills, never showing himself on their crests and never quite descending to their feet either. Around him, he could hear the wolves barking softly to each other as they assembled, and as the howling started he was nearly home.

The village was quiet. Except for the priests among them, the Hillmen seldom emerged at night, knowing its dangers well. Maybe the night would be enough to drive off these travelers, but he doubted it. There were so many of them. Wolf went straight home. He needed time to think.

His brother Knife was staring into the fire, as he often did at night for reasons Wolf had never fully understood. “Did you see them?” he asked.

“I saw them. You were right. There are more of them than I’ve ever seen, and they have come from far away, there’s no doubt of that.”

“And…?” Knife watched him carefully. The way to deal with Wolf, he’d found, was not to ask more questions than were needed to give him space to say what he wanted to say.

“And they look like the Rangers. And if I didn’t think they were staying I would leave them alone; there are too many of them, far too many.” Wolf frowned.

“Why would they want to stay here?” cried Knife. “What is there? Nothing! There’s nothing here even for us! Why would they leave their own country where they have whatever they need for our stones and what’s left of our hunting? Are they insane?”

“I don’t advise you talking like that,” answered Wolf sharply. “We still have to live here, you know.” Knife glowered but was silent. “I think I will watch them for another day or two. I don’t want to fight them if I don’t have to. But if they stay… they’re in the watering spot. So much of what we’ve been eating comes from there, and I won’t be starved. Or invaded. But I think the Rangers will side with them. I’d like you to gather some hunters and some spies for my in the morning.”

Knife nodded. “That’s always been a good hunting spot, and now… well, now it is a good hunting spot again, I guess.”

[piosenniel]

A FEW NOTES ON HILLMEN: This game is based on the premise that not everyone was delighted to join Aragorn’s new kingdom. The Hillmen of Arnor have lived in this region for a very long time, and are probably the ancestors of both the Bree-men and the hobbits. When the realm of Angmar rose in this area, the Hillmen became subjects of the Witch-King, along with a number of Dunlendings that he had also gathered there, and from whom many of them are now descended. The Dúnedain have been their enemies in all the wars they fought under his leadership. For more about this, please see Appendix AI(iii), “Eriador, Arnor, and the Heirs of Isildur,” in RotK.

I have also invented and extrapolated for the purposes of the game, so what follows are my ideas which will be used for the game but which are not by any means canon. After the departure of the Witch King, the flow of goods and gold to Arnor had ceased, and the Hillmen now lived in tiny, impoverished hamlets, except for those that decided they could do better faring in the wild alone. Such individuals are feared and avoided even by the other Hillmen. As for the others, they are few, but their resentment of the Dúnedain is very great, and many hold them somewhat responsible for the great difficulty of their life. They live by hunting and by robbery, though both have become more difficult in recent years. Their system of leadership is mostly explained above. Hierarchy in their society is largely based on blood ties, so the brothers of the leader carry a great deal of authority, though the next leader will not be related to any of them. The religion of the Hillmen is based on totem spirits such as wolves, owls, and fish. Their language is Westron, and their names are short ones, with obvious meanings alluding to the relevant and concrete, such as Wolf and Knife. To their north live the Snowmen of Forochel, who sided with the Dúnedain in previous conflicts but whose reaction to having them live so close is difficult to predict.

[piosenniel]

FIRST POSTS MUST BE SUBMITTED WITH YOUR CHARACTER DESCRIPTION

All character descriptions not accompanied by a First Post will be returned to their writers.

Players will NOT be chosen because they submitted their character earlier than the other players. The Game Owners will read each post and character bio and then make the choice for players accordingly.

[piosenniel]

It is a requirement that all potential game players will either have posted in one of the RPG Inns (preferably in The Green Dragon) or have played in an RPG on the Barrow Downs.

Please use this form for creating your character to post on the discussion thread.

Those who have not played before in a Barrow Downs' RPG will be given preference. Final preference, though, will be at the discretion of the Game Owner.
__________________________________________________ _________

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one?

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one?

For your character please include:

NAME:

AGE:

RACE:

GENDER:

WEAPONS (No magical, super-hero, mithril weapons. Just good solid Middle-earth weapons and armor only that is appropriate to the race of the character and the time period.):

APPEARANCE:

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: (No half-Elven characters. No mixed-type characters. No super-heroes. No assassins. No one all powerful, martial arts proficient, or having any magical traits. Just regular characters with normal abilities for their races only):

HISTORY:

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

A FIRST POST FOR YOUR CHARACTER MUST ACCOMPANY THIS FORM.

It is a requirement for this game. Character Descriptions without a First Post attached will be sent back to the writer. They may be submitted again, once there is a First Post to go with them.

[The X Phial]

Thanks for opening the thread, Pio!

Hi everyone. Belin, Susan and I are very excited about this game so I hope quite a few of you will sign up.

Since there are three owners and three main factions to the game, the owner playing the leader of each of the factions will be in charge of picking who will be on her team. Hillmen answer to Belin, Rangers to Susan, and settlers and dwarves to me. If you want to play a game with good character development and also the chance for some action, I think you will find it here. I look forward to playing [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[piosenniel]

Submitted for Carrûn – member #5606


RANGER OF THE NORTH

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES, Holiday in the Sun, Flight from Rohan, In the Shadow of the Star

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES, Both

For your character please include:

NAME: Awyrgan (Real name is Encaitar)

AGE: 37

RACE: Northern Dunèdan

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Awrygan carries a longsword with which he is very skilled. However he often prefers to use his assortment of knives (three), one is strapped to his boot, one across his chest and the other in his belt. He is a decent shot with a bow, but seldom carries one, finding them cumbersome when speedy travel through unpleasant terrain is necessary.

APPEARANCE: About 5 ft 10", shorter than many of the Dunèdan, he is broad and well-built. His overall best description is that of weathered and dark, a sharp contrast to his relatively young age. His hair is jet black and his eyes are a bright green. He is said to have an unusually piercing gaze, full of pain and anger, as well as experience and wisdom. His clothes are most often black, and he wears a large cloak overtop of his other articles that hides his various cargo pouches and weapons. He wears on his index finger a solid black ring with a green jewel in the center, which he inherited from his father. He has a bizzare looking self-inflicted scar on the left side of his face.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Typical Ranger traits are in his blood, hunting, tracking, healing (although this is not one of his stronger areas), and a powerful will to survive. He is swift in his movements, almost wraith-like, and very light on his feet, and was nicknamed "Cat" by several childhood friends. He is generally bad-tempered, but has been known to show rare moments of extreme kindness.

HISTORY: Encaitar was born into one of the roving Ranger clans of the North, his father was brother to Halbarad. While the boy was still quite young his father and uncle quarreled and his father led a small fringe element of the clan off into the wilderness and formed their own camp near the region of Eregion. When his father died unexpectedly the tweenaged man was elected leader of the tribe. One day he returned from a hunt with a friend to discover his wife, unborn daughter, and the rest of his village completely destroyed. In despair his companion killed himself while Encaitar futility chased the rapidly disappearing tracks. Returning empty-handed, he buried his friends and taking the ring he had given his wife, heated it and burned it into his face as an eternal reminder of his failure.

He then renamed himself "Awyrgan" meaning condemned or strangled, and lived as a solitary Ranger in the Wild. When he first became chieftan he had attempted to restore contact with his uncle Halbarad which his father had severed but after his loss he seemed to have little desire for contact with anyone. However, he would pass through the Ranger camps from time to time and they tolerated him out of respect for his uncle. He rode with his uncle and Aragorn along the Paths of the Dead and fought in the battle of Pellenor Fields, however his only major part involved standing over the body of his dead uncle as the battle raged.

After the War he returned to his life of wandering but has gradually begun to attempt to move back into contact with the
rest of his kin. He remains a bit of an outcast still, for many of them still remember the quarrel between Halbarad and Awrygan's father. His lack of desire for social interaction often causes the other Rangers to feel shunned by him. Many of them still attempt to call him by his true name but he refuses to answer to it. He knows Thorgil and respects him as a noble leader, but the issue of the seeming disloyalty of Awyrgan's father remains between them (at least in the eyes of the younger).
___________________________________________

Carrûn’s post

The bright afternoon Sun shone down in a dazzling display of yellows that reflected off the many ripples racing along Lake Evendim's surface. Near the Western shore the water gave way suddenly to reveal the shape of a man gliding smoothly from the bottom of the lake to the surface. He paused, waist deep in the lake shaking the excess water from his ears and wringing his hair. Stretching, he walked to where his clothes lay and dressed quickly. His sharp eyes noticed fresh deer tracks running along the soft mud of the lakeside. He glanced to where his gear lay, and was relieved to see that he had remembered a bow this time. Gathering his assortment of weapons & tools he set off, following the hoofed prints.

He traveled for some time before his highly-tuned senses warned him that he was getting close to his target. The vegetation had thickened, and there was sporadic rustling in the bushes. As the breeze shifted the man froze and dropped to one knee. Several yards in front of him his quarry stood, oblivious to the danger. The man's bow was already out and an arrow was soon notched. Slowly, the man began to raise the weapon into a comfortable position. He took his time for the wind was still on his side. Five minutes later he was in position. As luck would have it, the wind shifted. The deer's eyes bulged as it caught the unfamiliar sent. It took one great giant bound before a whistling arrow stopped it in midair and dropped it to the ground.

Grinning, the man rose from his concealed location and walked over to the deer. Pulling the arrow out of the animal he placed it back in the quiver. He paused, cracking his back, and then slung the deer over a shoulder and began the walk back. About halfway to his destination he began to wish he had come across a smaller deer.

In the distance he was sure he could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone setting up camp. It had to be newcomers, for Rangers or Wild Men would never generate as much noise. He considered following the noise for a closer look but knew that there were several other Rangers in the area who had most likely already scouted the noise out.

It was nearly dark when the weathered man arrived at the Ranger campsite, it had moved about a hundred meters from the previous night and it had taken him a few extra minutes to locate. Few of the Rangers currently at the site acknowledged him as he strode through their parameter and he gave no sign of recognition in reply. Someone had carried his tent to the new site, but had left it un-constructed in a pile. It was far away from all the other men's sleeping areas but was within the camp's limits. Setting the deer down the man constructed a quick tent out of the canvas sheet he carried with him and then used readily available bark and brush to camouflage it. Picking up the bow and arrow he silently walked across the site and returned it to its owner, a gruff older man who grunted slightly and gave him a crooked grin as Awyrgan handed him the weapon. The man gave his thanks and an honest attempt at a smile in return.

Returning to his solitary campsite the man skinned and cleaned the deer. It was not a task he enjoyed but it was a necessary one. When he had finished he carried the skin over to the tent of the camp leader Thorgil and set it in the growing pile of animal hides. Thorgil had not returned yet so the man walked back to where the half-prepared meat lay - only to find one of the dogs making himself at home. With a surprisingly realistic wolf-like growl the man sent the dog packing with his tail between his legs. Seeing that the damage was not too severe the man's expression softened slightly and he tossed the excess of the carcass and damaged meat outside the parameter. Several dogs descended on the remains at once as the man laughed darkly. Lighting a small fire he set about smoking the strips of meat. Satisfied that things were going smoothly the man crawled into his tent and went to sleep.

He awoke early the next morning to the sound of men grumbling as they shuffled around small fires in the chill morning of the Northern wastelands. A dog was licking his face and he pushed it away, cursing affectionately at the creature as he did so. He grinned as he recognized the shaggy features of Fang, the self-elected pack leader of the Ranger's dogs.

"Gitatta here!" Fang shuffled off wagging his tail, a smoked piece of deer clasped firmly in his jaws. Awyrgan had no dog of his own, but Fang had apparently taken a liking to him.

The Ranger glanced up to notice the figure of Thorgil passing him on his way to the center of the camp. He nodded briefly in greeting to his superior and was surprised to receive a similar response. Awyrgan still felt somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of the other Rangers and was hoping to have a talk with Thorgil about his place in the camp when he could; the feelings of one man couldn't always be on the top of a leader's priority list.

Reaching the center of the camp Thorgil called all of the other Rangers to gather around him. Dragging his feet slightly Awyrgan followed the rest of the men as they formed a semi-circle around their leader. He explained the situation to them and Awyrgan, for lack of anything else to do, joined in the collective grumbling running rapidly through the camp. This was to be expected and was more a chance for the men to let off steam than seriously complain. The general shared feeling however seemed to be that these newcomers from the South would be one additional burden on the already heavily tasked guardians of the Northern Kingdom. Still, Awyrgan was not surprised when Thorgil asked for several volunteers instead of just assigning a group. He was obviously a skilled leader and Awyrgan had only been in his company for a few weeks.

However, Awyrgan surprised himself and everyone else around him when he heard himself saying. "I'll go, I'll do it." He sat back and waited for the camp leader's response. It was not long in coming

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[*Varda*]

Character Description Form:
Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES – An Audience with the King, Castle Maladil, Ride to the Dark Side, Sailing Away, In War, Corsairs and Corsets.

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES– The White Horse

NAME: Therin

AGE: 85

RACE: Dwarf

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS : A sturdy axe he has had for the past 30 years, having accumulated several notches on the blade. He also carries a small knife, but uses this more for eating than for any fighting purpose.

APPEARANCE: A rough, red-brown beard reaching down to his waist, typically with two plaits in the middle. Bald on top, the hair around his head reaches his shoulders. He has two twinkling brown eyes, and a slightly crooked nose. He is 4ft 9” in height. When working, he is usually found wearing worn leather clothing, although from time to time, he will wear his metal armour.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: He takes great pride in the work he does, as a stonewright. He doesn’t take criticism well, but on the whole is a kind dwarf, friendly, and eager to get along with others, as long as they keep on his good side. Fighting is not one of his strengths, as he is a craftsman at heart, but he is handy with his axe in times of trouble, although some have argued that this is more due to his penchant for swinging his axe around madly, rather than learning the skills – he is bound to hit a foe at some point.

HISTORY: He has lived all 85 years of his life in the Blue Mountains, continually working on the halls of the dwarves with his craftsmen friends, always striving to improve on his work. He had an uneventful life, his father teaching him his trade, and a few pointers on how to wield an axe, should he ever need to. Therin has not seen much fighting – he remained largely untroubled by the events of the War of the Ring, only seeing one or two orc attacks during it. Seeing one of his friends fall during a battle, Therin strives to protect his companions in battle, always feeling he could have done more to save his friend.
After the war, becoming tired of the Blue Mountains, and longing to find new places to show his craft, he jumped at the chance to help to establish the new city in Arnor.

FIRST POST:

Therin stood by the lakeside, watching the stars disappear in the sky above as the glow of the morning sun began to rise above them. The camp was quiet – most of the settlers appeared to be sound asleep, having gone to bed in surprisingly good spirits considering the long journey they must have had from Gondor. Aside from the odd man striding through the camp, there was little movement.

The dwarf was not in a mood to sleep longer, as he watched the pale light of the rising sun reflect upon the still waters of Lake Evendim. Imagine – soon this would be a city, not simply a circle of tents. Hills rose around them, the sun casting light on them. Therin had thought them cold and dark the night before, his mind filled with the stories of the Hillmen.

A ranger had told Therin the night before of the Hillmen who lived in this region – ominous tales, of how they were the enemies of the Dunedain, and had been known to be associated with the Witch-King. Therin sincerely hoped they would not stir up trouble – there so many families here, hoping for a new start, a new life. And Therin wanted a change from the daily life of the Blue Mountains. No Hillmen were turning him out of Arnor, he grumpily said to himself. He’d cut them down with his axe first, patting it as it lay beside him.

Slowly, the camp began to come to life. Children eagerly poked their heads out of their tents, running around in the cool morning air, feet soaked with dew, anxious to explore their new surroundings. Mothers started wood fires to make the breakfast, and every now and then, a Ranger would go through the camp, speaking to the settlers. Therin beamed at the children running past him, as they slowed down to stare at this strange, short figure sitting by a small fire, cooking his breakfast of a rabbit he had caught earlier. He was foreign to them, as many had heard of dwarves, but never seen one in the flesh. Therin chuckled to himself as their mouths opened in surprise, before realising their manners and scurrying off in the opposite direction. This would surely be an enjoyable place to live.

[Osse]

HILLMAN OF THE NORTH

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – NO

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES-The Green Dragon

For your character please include:


NAME:Bear

AGE:28

RACE:Hillmen

GENDER:Male

WEAPONS:Bear carries an axe that he wields potently with his right hand, in his left hand he bears a round leather-clad shield and wears an 8" knife at his calf. He also wears a chainmail hauberk that comes down to knees. He acquired this mail when he slew a lost dwarf who had unwittingly wandered into the tribe's path as they hunted. Heavy decreases in the populations of the tribe's preferred game caused them to hunt further afield, sometimes even near Bree! Thus the dwarven traveller was slain north of the Chetwood.
As is the custom of his tribe, he wears over all, a long cloak made from the pelt of a wolf that he slew himself. This pelt signifies his manhood and to 'come of age' he had to slay the afore mentioned wolf.

APPEARANCE:Bear is tall as far as Hillmen go, though in the eyes of a Gondorian his height would be unremarkable, his hair is of a ruddy brown colour; matted and tangled as is his unruly beard. He has cunning dark grey eyes that are startlingly piercing, and his voice is as deep and impending as an under water chasm.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Bear dosen't have the rock-solidness and steady mind of his brother. He is quite rash at times, yet his bravery is unsurpassed, as is his ferocity with the axe. Bear usually remains silent unless speech is absolutely necessary. The one exception of this silence is when he is engaged in battle; his cries have marred the death of many an enemy.

HISTORY:
Bear is the younger brother of Wolf, the powerful chieftain of his village. He also has a younger brother named Knife. He was born in the same, nameless squalidity as his older brother; into the same hardship and toil, though of course not as much weight was laid upon his doughty shoulders as upon those of Wolf's.

Compared to his brother, Bear is a giant. Many marvel to see the pair of them striding together, one short, squat and displeasing of face, the other tall, graceful and lithe. Indeed many wonder if they actually did share the same father. As neither of them knew their father, who was killed by a boar when they were only young, he and Wolf especially have had to look after their mother and younger brother Knife. Knife is a very potent tracker and forager, yet does not share the strength in arms with his brothers. It is suspected in the village that Bear's mother was sleeping with a Bree-lander in exchange for food and clothing; thus Bear was conceived. This would explain his appearance, as the Bree-landers are often somewhat taller than Hillmen and do not share their swarthiness.

Despite this, one could not say that the brothers are close. In fact, unbeknown to Bear (but perhaps not to Wolf) many of the tribes inhabitants believe that he is in fact a worthier candidate for chieftan. Wolf resents this somewhat, yet still leads with vigour and poise. Though in a hard situation perhaps his tribe will no longer look to him, but to his brother to lead them to victory.

FIRST POST:

Bear sat hunched against the large oak that grew amid the ruins atop the hill over looking the lake. The twinkling torches of the strange company were reflected in the glass-top surface of the water. The reflections shuddered and were distorted as a sharp breeze swept accross the lake from the north. Bear pulled his wolf pelt cloak around him more tightly and peered through his mane of grizzled hair down into the knoll where the company currently camped. As he peered into the fast engulfing gloom, he fingered the blade of his axe.

Knife was correct, these foreigners did move without due care. A leaping anger was kindled at the thought that these men were so arrogant. Another part of his mind contemplated the grey figures stealthily patrolling the skirts of the intruders camps and found that that was the basis for the camp's arrogance.

When Knife had rushed to him the minute he got back from tracking the party, Bear had not immediately sprung into the evening to see for himself, he waited until Knife had told Wolf about the intruders and Wolf had departed to see for himself, before he fetched his axe and departed for the ruins on the hill. He knew his brother well enough to know that he would be staying off the tops of hills, and sticking to cover if at all possible. To avoid being seen was second nature to Bear and he did it effortlessly as he made his way to the hill.

Now as he surveyed the strange company's camp he took into account the location and surroundings of the various tents, he also knew that the grey-clad sentinels were not to be taken lightly.

The sky clouded over, obscuring the moon as he rose; giving Bear a sudden sense of foreboding.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: Osse ]

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: Osse ]

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: Osse ]

[The X Phial]

*Varda* - Therin is great. I love him. He's in.

Osse - check your PMs

Thanks to everyone who has posted thus far. Pio is making a small change in my first post so that the dwarves can be at the camp site. If you want to have a dwarf on the road, he should be delivering supplies.

[Kryssal]

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – Yes, The Swan Wood

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – Yes, The White Horse Inn

NAME: Kaben Bieth

AGE: 24

RACE: Human of Gondor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: He has never been able to shoot a bow or use a sword with any effectiveness. He can throw a knife with great aim, but since he doesn’t practice more than twice a month the blade doesn’t always strike.

APPEARANCE: The wiry, thin figure may be thought to have hidden strength, but it doesn’t. Kaben’s hair is slightly shaggy and falls often into his hazel eyes, which is why he has the habit of frequently running his hand through his bangs, trying fruitlessly to make it stay on the top of his head. He wears slightly baggy clothes that are more for comfort than appearance. On his right wrist he wears a thick, wide leather band with a sketched in flower surrounded by vines.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Kaben is a very kind, warm person that is always happy to share a story. A quick smile for any passer by, Kaben has to be very sociable for the work that he does, plus he just really likes people. This can be a weakness to him sometimes, as he likes to help those in need more than he should, but he doesn’t allow his business to be swindled by fast handlers, only his personal life. Some other weaknesses are that most women fight better than he does and that he can’t lift heavy items at all, something that makes an assistant necessary.

HISTORY: Growing up the son of a prosperous trading merchant in Minis Tirith, Kaben knew all the in's, out's and several shorcuts of his fathers business by the age of nine. Traders knew him as the Haggler Brat because whenever they would come in with a new shipment he would play barter with them and haggle over the wares that they had just brought in. He would even go as far as trying to trade or sell them back the same items that they had brought in earlier in the year. In his teens he began to barter for real, working for his father and a little on his own. Through this he gained many reliable contacts.

Keeping busy with work for his father and trying to fine-tune his own work, Kaben didn’t have time to court a maiden seriously. He had always had friends enough to fill his life, but had never found someone that truly touched him.

Being the third son of four, the oldest already taking over for his father, Kaben understood that if he wanted to truly be his own merchant he would have to leave Minis Tirith. He had been planning on moving to a small town by the border of Rohan and setting up shop there when he heard about the Arnor resettlement. He would have a hard time starting practically from scratch with no one he knew around him, but there was such great opportunity to establish himself in a new town with no pre-set competition. After securing some drop offs with traders that would risk the journey (not as many as he had hoped, but enough to ensure he wouldn’t go under and have to work for someone else), Kaben left the only place he had ever called home.

FIRST POST:

The first look at the lake had been beautiful, but that might have had something to do with Kaben being very tired of traveling. Smiling at a kid running by him, Kaben stoked up the fire slightly with his good arm.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll keep the fire up,” a nice young maiden said as she took her own stick and put it to the fire. She was the oldest daughter of the family Kaben had taken to traveling with. For one thing, they had the many teams of horses to pull the wagons, and for another, Kaben couldn’t get his two wagons to move by himself. It was mostly a business deal; Kaben paying the father for the use of the animals with a nice bonus for the son who was driving the second wagon, but naturally he had gotten to know them and they were now good friends.

“Thank you Terari,” he said as he stretched back and rubbed his right arm causing a sharp pain, he had expected it though, so his wince wasn't that pronounced.

As Terari started to prepare a dinner for their first night in ‘town’ she spoke up from across the fire. “Is your arm still bothering you much?”

Kaben smiled ruefully. “’Course it is, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he winked as she looked over, causing her to laugh and shake her head. Thinking back to the accident that had happened while traveling not too long ago brought a slight frown to his face, but he didn’t want to think about that. He had made it to his destination, that was good, and that was all that mattered.

Soon he would be making absolute plans to set up shop, right now he only had tentative ideas: find an assistant (Apthan, the only son of Tauven, Kaben’s temporary traveling partner, was dutifully following in his father’s footsteps and couldn’t help) to help him with lifting, he was weak even without his wound, plus there were a lot of settlers and that would mean a lot of time to help them; set up the wares that would be wanted right now at this stage of the towns development; and to get his own living quarters set up.

His own father had been very kind to him, giving Kaben a generous loan to start up his own work. Even with the money from his father, he was slightly worried about being able to make everything work the way he wanted. First off, he needed a lot of help with setting up his shop, building it and his living quarters. Combining home and work would probably be much better for him, not to mention his pocket. He also wondered how much the new towners would be able to spend at his shop. He had to make good business with the settlers to be able to make good business with the traders to continue the cycle. The first trader would be coming in little under a month, not much time in Kaben’s mind.

Kaben came back to himself as Tauven clamped a hand onto his shoulder to help in the sitting down process. Kaben smiled and made mild fire talk with the now gathered family. It was a pleasant evening and everything seemed to be going well for the settlement. Some of the children got frightened when a wolf pack howled in the distance, but they were soon laughing again when Kaben told them a funny story about how his younger brother had been chased around by a vicious little puppy and how his father had finally caught the pet by ambushing it around the house. Full night set in and the soon to be shop owner slipped into his sleep roll with thoughts of set up keeping him awake till his body simply refused to keep conscious any longer.

[Burzdol]

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one?

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? YES Which one? The Green Dragon

For your character please include:

NAME:Asterion Colm

AGE:27

RACE:ex Rohanian Guardsman

GENDER:Male

WEAPONS:A war-worn breastplate is the only bit of his armour that remains. His offensive armory includes a short sword, bow, and a small knife serves as a tool more than a weapon.


APPEARANCE:Asterion is average in height and has broad shoulders. His piercing blue eyes are bairly seen through his curly, black hair that accompanies his small beard. He is considered strong, but is less known for his speed and agility.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:Colm is a man that is considered to be a good follower to all who know him. When he had been in the Guard, he had been promoted many times for loyalty to his work. His main weakness is a short temper, which leads to bad, and usually rash actions.

HISTORY:His granfather, as was his own father, were in the Guard. His views are different however, and he wants to become a farmer with a wife he hopes to find. Now his disappointed father never says that Asterion is his actual son. Since childhood, he had been raised with a sword and his losses have been few during his life. As soon as the boy had been entered into the Guard, he had been using his priveleges to gain access to records of farming and building. For his one brother and one sister, they are both working for Asterion's father as helpers of his fishing buisness, that he does in his retierment. Each of his siblings are two years younger than himself, and are remarkablysimilar in apperance. But, as their father, they both frown upon Asterion choice to leave the Guard.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

FIRST POST:

Asterion first looked upon Arnor by Borgand's order. Lake Evendim's waters looked as if they were laced with diamonds. The man sat it utter awe at his home, but their leader soon edged on, and in his nature, Asterion followed. He noticed the greenery that looked welcoming from the winter they had come through to get here. He stopped were Borgand had, and let his horse drink. As the others ran through the meadow, Asterion laid on the bank of the lake, and watched the skies. Never had the skies seemed so blue, or the grass so green. For he was now, finally, home.

Asterion came to the center of the camp to find a place to set up his tent. The man soon raced for a spot an gained it. This is going to be myh new house someday, he thought to himself.

Borgand stopped next to him and talked about the wonder of their settleing spot,"Tis' beautiful isn't it?" he asked, while leaning on his cane.

"Yes, it is very beautiful. I wish I could have come sooner."

The leader of the settlers laughed and walked away, talking to others as he went. But the man soon returned to reward the man with first guard duty. His job was to patrol behind the tents, keeping an eye out for wolves. His time was soon over, and when his head hit the pillow, and he was out. All of his dreams that night were of settlement and companionship, and soon he drifted to other things. He was finally was at his home, and his journey was over. What ever worries he was to have had about dangers were out of his mind and completely forgotten.

[Susan Delgado]

Carrûn, your character is basically all right, but I have some questions/comments. Please check your pms.

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Phervasaion]

Is it ok if i be a Dunedan? I'll put my profile for the charector up soon.
_________________________________________

Phervasaion - check your PM's, please. ~~ Pio

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[alaklondewen]

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the
Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one?

Yes – Sailing Away. Currently playing in Corsairs and Corsets and A House Divided

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one?

The Green Dragon

For your character please include:

NAME: Collothion (father)/Cuilad (son)

AGE: 58/16

RACE: Gondorian

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Collothion carries a sword in a scabbard he wears on a tan leather belt. The sword has a disk shaped pummel, a slightly rounded crossguard, and a long, narrow blade. Collothion also carries a short knife with a handle made from the antler of an unknown animal that he uses to cut vegetation and anything else he may use in his work.

Cuilad carries a short, broad bladed sword that Collothion bought for him on his 13th birthday. The sword has a disk shaped pummel and a straight crossguard. The boy also uses a short knife similar to his father’s except for the handle which is made of a dark wood.

APPEARANCE: Collothion is a tall man (6’4) with broad shoulders and a small waist. His graying red hair lies upon his shoulders with a natural wave and frames the features of his face which are long like the rest of his body. His small gray eyes reveal the experiences of a man who has hurt beyond measure and cares for all life that is precious. His long and rather pointed nose shadows his small mouth and thin lips. In the center of his chin is a deep cleft which only adds to his character.

Cuilad is only a couple of inches shorter than his father and has yet to fill out his lanky frame. His hair is red, much brighter than his father’s and is cut just above his shoulders. His facial features match those of his father except for his large round green eyes…his mother’s eyes. These eyes have lost some of their innocence, but are far from hardened, and sometimes, when his father looks down into his eyes, Collothion can see his wife looking back at him.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Collothion loves his son more than anything in the world, since the boy is all he has. Once, he had been an outgoing man, but his demeanor changed when his wife died. He is now quiet and soft spoken, even though he is strong in spirit. He cares deeply about the life of all things in Middle Earth and takes his work very seriously.

Cuilad is an active teenager who enjoys being out of doors and many physically demanding activities. He is an ordinary boy in all ways except that he is mute. Many of the children in Minas Tirith gave him a tough time when he was younger, and he had to prove himself through many fights with other youngsters. It didn’t take long until the other children respected him as one of them.

Cuilad is a hard working, intelligent young man who is looking forward to following his father's footsteps. He is eager to please his father and is always there to lend a hand.

HISTORY: Collothion married late, not because there were not eligible women, but because he just hadn’t found the right one. Then he met Arenieth, she was a much younger woman by just over twenty years. She had an illness that brought her to the Houses of Healing where Collothion cared for her. During her one month stay, the couple connected on many levels and fell in love. A few months later they were married. Barely a year later, a baby was on the way, and Collothion was ecstatic. However, Arenieth had many complications during her pregnancy and she didn’t make it through the delivery. The baby boy was healthy but because of the trama he suffered during his birth he could not talk. Collothion named the boy Cuilad, or Life Renewed, because with the loss of the only woman he’d ever loved, he gained the most precious gift a man could have…a son.

Collothion raised the boy on his own, and at the age of 15, Cuilad expressed an interest in his father’s work as a healer. Being proud of his son, Collothion agreed to train him in the ‘art’.

When King Elessar sent notice that Arnor was to be resettled, Collothion somehow knew he was to go. He and Cuilad didn’t have a family holding them to Minas Tirith, so he volunteered almost immediately. Cuilad was a little disappointed at first since he would be leaving his friends, but his attitude quickly changed when they set out on the road. He enjoyed being on the road exploring with his father for new herbs along the way.

First Post
“Cuilad! Quick bring me the bag.” Collothion watched as a young girl stood up in the back of her family’s wagon and toppled off. A brief moment later, Collothion was off his horse and at her side. Cuilad untied his father’s tan medicinal bag from his own horse and lugged it to the scene.

Collothion looked the girl over. She couldn’t have been past her sixth or seventh year, and her tears stained her dust covered face. The only damage Collothion could see was a large gash in her left shin from landing on a rather sharp stone.

“You’ve taken quite a tumble, Miss.” He smiled kindly as he wiped a tear from her cheek smearing the dirt. “Cuilad, boil some water and find my alum.” Collothion tore a strip from a rag he carried in his pocket and tied it around the child’s leg to stop the bleeding. In the meantime, Cuilad followed his father’s instructions, first putting water on a small fire, and then digging in the bag for alum. He finally found the root and handed it to his father who immediately crushed a small portion of it before sprinkling it into the water.

The girl’s parents realizing what happened stood over Collothion and Cuilad with worried expressions. The healer reassured them that she was a lucky little girl for coming out of the fall with only a minor injury. As soon as the water boiled, Collothion cleaned the cut with the mixture and bandaged the small shin.

The family thanked him profusely before returning to their wagon and heading on their way. The only thanks Collothion wanted was the sweet smile given by the child…it made his work worth every minute.

Cuilad dutifully picked up after his father and stomped the fire out. After tightly tying the tan bag back to his horse, the men returned to the road. Several hours passed without further excitement when they crossed the last of hills that surrounded their destination. The sky was painted with a dazzling array of reds and pinks as the sun was lowered behind the hills in the west. The water of the lake already reflected the night sky. Collothion caught his breath taking the view in and turned to his son whose eyes were the size of saucers. Cuilad met his father’s gaze and smiled broadly nodding with approval. The joy in his son’s face caused Collothion to laugh aloud.

The father and son both nudged their horses with their right foot and followed the folk in front of them. As soon as they reached the bottom, Cuilad worked to raise their tent within the circle, while Collothion started his rounds before all was dark. Many of people had fallen ill along the way, and some were even lost. He checked tent by tent to see all was well. Jolly voices rose around him wherever he went. Only a few folk needed his assistance, and he did what he could when the need arose. However he was looking forward to checking on a special patient…a small boy who’d had a rough time on the journey.

Collothion could see the boy’s mother outside cooking, and he called to her waving. “Hello, there, Madame Illith.” He bowed his head slightly as she waved and smiled enthusiastically. “I came to see how the boy is.”

“Oh, Collothion. He’s doing wonderfully well. He ate a full meal today.” The news lightened the man’s heart and he asked her if he could look in on him. Nodding, the woman opened the curtain to the tent, and Collothion stepped in.

The light from a candle showed Bregand’s small face. “He’s getting his color back,” Collothion said to Illith who nodded in agreement. “I can already tell this place is special. The air of Arnor will return his health.” The man spoke softly with his eyes intensely searching the boy’s face for any signs of waking, then he turned quickly to the boy’s mother and thanking her he quickly left the tent and made his way back home.

Home, the thought just hit him and he breathed deeply with anticipation of all that was to come in this place. Yes, Home. In just a few minutes, Cuilad was visible. The boy had already kindled a fire and was cooking something in a large pot. Collothion grinned with excitement and put his arm around his son patting him on the shoulder. With a slight squeeze, Collothion told him, “This is our new life, son.” Cuilad warmly returned his father’s hug, and then went back to stirring the hot stew over the fire.

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

[The X Phial]

Alak and Kryssal, thanks for your posts and characters. They look really good. Burzdol, I am willing to work on your character with you, PM me for a discussion.

[Belin]

Osse, you've already heard from my via pm, but for the benefit of other aspiring hillmen, I'd like to remark publicly on how much I liked your awareness of tensions and other relationships among the Hillmen, as well as the realistic history in a post that used to be here. This is the stuff to emulate.

I also recommend that those who wish to play hillmen read the Notes on Hillmen posted above before writing your character profile; it should prove helpful.

We need a couple more Hillmen, and (obviously) I think they'll be immensely interesting to play. Come out, come out, wherever you are....

--Belin Ibaimendi

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Susan Delgado]

We also need more Rangers. As soon as LadyAerowen posts her character bio (she is playing the female Ranger, and it should be a very interesting experience.), there will be two. I was hoping for four or five. Come on, now, everyone wants to play a good guy! No need to play silly, dirty Hillmen. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

Carrun, please check your PMs.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Carrûn]

[EDIT] Responded to PM with suggested changes.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]

[Susan Delgado]

I saw it Carrun, thanks muchly. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]
You can post it here if you like, or I can do it. Either way is fine with me, so long as people can see it.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[piosenniel]

Susan and Carrun

I understand you are editing your First Posts. For my convenience - simply delete your original First Post from your Character bio post, and place the new one there.

It is time consuming enough to transfer first posts without having to chase them around on other pages. Thanks! ~~ Pio

[Susan Delgado]

We can't do that, Pio: you posted them. We can't edit your posts.

[piosenniel]

Just PM them to me, please. I will edit your posts.

[Susan Delgado]

Will do.

[TheLadyAerowen]

And finally, after bunches of tweaking and changes, we have our female Ranger;


Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one? Yes, most recently Castle Maladil. And many before the revamping of the Roleplaying forums.

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one? No

For your character please include:

NAME: Alearindu

AGE: Early 30’s

RACE: Man, Ranger

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Alearindu carries a sword at her side and daggers in her boots. She also carries a bow and quiver, but perfers the blades.

APPEARANCE: Alearindu stands tall for a woman, and she is slenderly-built. She has dark-red, shoulder length hair and light-brown eyes. Alearindu clothes herself in earthen-coloured mens clothes; refusing to wear dresses and the such.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Alearindu tends to be quiet and out of the way; but she has a bad temper and the tendancy to speak her mind when she doesn't think first. Hencing Alearindu is a female-Ranger, speaking her mind isn't the best of things to do. Men have always looked down on her; but the will to be equal, or even better than them, is what motivates her.
Alearindu is light-footed and quick, and good at tracking. Alearindu is an excellent horse-woman, and has her own horse Mornen; who is a jet-black stallion. She isn't the best with a sword, but she knows well how to use it. Her weakness is her temper which causes her trouble and more disrespect from men.

HISTORY: Alearindu's father was a Ranger, but her mother had died giving birth to her. Alearindu's father then took her with him on his journeys after she was old enough. She learned tracking, how to wield a sword, and how to go about unnoticed.

Alearindu's father was a close friend of Aragorn, so Alearindu had her acquaintances with him; but not many. After her father died by the hands of a Hillman, Aragorn looked after her for a while, until the time of the War of the Ring. Alearindu spent most of that time just wandering; never settling in one place for too long. She had little, save her father's horse Mornen; the jet-black war stallion.

Shortly after the War of the Ring; Alearindu ventured to Bree. She heard about the settling of Evendim through the passer-bys at the Inn and the possible battles with Hillmen. Even the smallest bit of possible revenge for her father's death was enough motivation for Alearindu to go meet Thorgil in Arnor. She set off immediately. She expected not-the-best treatment, but she could deal.

--------------------------------------

First Post:
Just before the first rays of dawn appeared over the horizon, Alearindu awoke. Quietly stretching and rolling up her blankets from the night, she packed up her gear and placed it into Mornen’s saddlebags.

Snorting and shaking his straw-like black mane, Mornen shoved his velvet-like muzzle into Alearindu’s hand. She rubbed his muzzle and waited for the other men to rise. What she didn’t know was that Thorgil, the company’s leader, was already awake and had left the camp.

Thorgil and the other Rangers didn’t exactly approve of Alearindu. They tended to ignore her and not care about her opinions or inputs; but they did manage to tolerate her and allow her (after much persuasion) to join them. She put up with everything so she could stay on the journey and have a chance at revenge for her father. She had gotten weary of wandering pretty much aimlessly, and besides, where else could she go? Their treatment caused her to become quiet and forlorn, but even she could sense a bit less tension between the lot of them and her during the past moons, and yet not much.

After some stirring and activity in the camp, She spied him leaving and followed, so quietly that he didn't even notice (she hoped) She took a spot sitting on a hill over-looking the group he had gone to visit. There were quite a lot of them. Thorgil did go talk to a man, whom she guessed was the leader, and after a bit of talking, Thorgil returned to the Ranger-Camp and addressed them; she returned behind him and found a place in the back of the crowd.

“Men," After a pause he added, "...and Alearindu. There is a group of Gondorians camped out on the shore of Lake Evendim. I spoke to the leader, Borgand, and he informed me that they are settlers. They are staying here.” He paused to let the men absorb this, and waited patiently as they muttered amongst themselves. They quieted after a few moments, and he continued. "Borgand has requested that I send a man to stay in the settlement, to guard and defend them. You would have to live in the camp until they become self-sufficient, and they may want you to help them build. I will accept a volunteer." He paused and glanced over the men. Alearindu looked too. They were looking at each other, and even she could see most of them would never volunteer; they had been Rangers all their lives, most of them, and would sooner give their arm than stay for an indeterminate amount of time in a settlement.

In her private survey of the crowd, she noticed Awyrgan. He was also fairly new to the camp, like her, and young, like her. She had only spoken to him a few times, but she wished she knew him better. She thought they must have much in common. After a few moments, she looked back at Thorgil to see what he was doing about the fact that no one had volunteered. He looked about to speak when a voice in the back of the crowd said, "I'll go, I'll do it." She looked. It was Awyrgan. He looked Thorgil directly in the eye, his own bright green and flashing. "I'll watch them, but from the outside only unless circumstances require otherwise," Suprised at the usually quiet man's forwardness, Thorgil nodded. He then glanced around the crowd, saw Alearindu watching Awyrgan and said, after a pause, "Alearindu shall accompany you."

Alearindu was silently surprised that Awyrgan had volunteered, and that Thorgil would have let one of the young, new ones go to the settlement. But, Alearindu and Awygran were both young and new. She had thought for a moment she, for once, wasn’t going to be the one doing the work the others didn’t want to. For now, at least she wasn’t the only one.

Alearindu scowled to herself, turned, and walked to Mornen. She tightened his girth, untied the reins from the tree, pulled them over his head, and mounted. She was ready to set-out; to set-out to protect the settlement.

------------------------------------------

Well, there we go. It feels so great to finally post it *winks at Susan*

-The Lady Aerowen

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: TheLadyAerowen ]

[Susan Delgado]

*Brushes hands together for a job well done*

It looks fabulous, Aero. Good job! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – yes, Fall of Greenwood the Great, Flight from Rohan, Dark Seduction (cameo)

How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? two, Fall of Greenwood the Great and Flight from Rohan

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES – Which one? both

NAME: Kestrel

AGE: 17

RACE: Hillman

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: A staff that is about half her height (usually used to make sure that she doesn't run into anything on her blind side.) and a short knife

APPEARANCE: About five feet tall, with dark brown, somewhat curly hair that is kept hacked off at about shoulder length. She has dark eyes, and has a scar across the left side of her face which pulls her mouth into a constant grimace (she is also blind in her left eye). She wears a necklace of claws around her neck, which came from her namesake. She also has a slightly thickened waist from having two children. She is prematurely aged and looks ten years older than she is (or at least, would if she lived in our society; in hers, she is well-preserved.)

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: She has a bad temper, which has caused her children, Rain (girl, 4) and Flint (boy, 2), to step lightly around her and to make her husband, Knife, seek company elsewhere. She does love her children however, and would give her life for them unflinchingly. She doesn’t really care about anything other than herself and her children. She is stubborn, opinionated, but hard-working.

HISTORY: When Kestrel was about two years old, a hawk attacked her while her mother worked in their rocky garden nearby. The bird was driven away, but not before ripping most of her face open. It healed, but left a scar that almost cost her her chances of marriage. Her father managed to convince the man she married that hard work and youth would make up for lack of looks. He also stole a good steel knife from the Breemen for her dowry. Kestrel was married when she was twelve. Her parents died not long after that. She miscarried a son just before she had been married a year and gave birth to Rain, her daughter, almost exactly nine months after that. She weaned Rain early and did the same with Flint. She is pregnant again, but is not yet showing.

FIRST POST: The Hillwoman frowned. Her husband and his brother had gone off investigating rumors of those cursed Dunedain settling on their land. Aye, it was barren, rocky and it had poor soil, but the land was theirs and noe cursed Mand of the West was going to take it from them, not while there were Hillmen to defend it. They had their own land, those men of Gondor; they could leave these rocky hills alone.

Her son, Flint, came running into the hut, crying because some of the bigger boys in the village had pushed him down again. “Mama, Mama,” he whimpered. “They pusheded me down again.”

“So push them back or stay indoors,” she retorted. This was too much. So what if he was smaller than they were; he had to learn to stand up for himself and learn not to come running to her every time he had a problem. He’d never get any respect that way, and if he wanted to ever be someone important, he’d have to earn the respect of the other boys, starting now. So Kestrel pushed her son to be strong, so that someday, when she was old, and her husband could no longer hunt for her, Flint could take care of his mother.

The tot sniffled a few more times, then ran out again, saying defiantly, “I’ll push 'em real hard, Mama!”

Kestrel nodded, proud that her son would prove his strength this early. Even if he was only two. She turned to her daughter, who was sitting in the corner of the squalid little hut, attempting to weave a rush basket. And Rain was going about in entirely the wrong way.

“No, no, no!” she scolded. “You do it like this.” Rain had to make a good match for them. There was no way that her daughter would ever be dependant on charity. She had to be a perfect wife and make her mother proud. Kestrel was going to have enough to do just dealing with Flint. Rain would have to get a good man, or at least a man who could take care of her, and that would have to be enough for her. Her mother wouldn’t be able to.

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[ August 13, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[The X Phial]

By my count we still need:
1-2 settlers

2 Hillmen

2 rangers

1-2 dwarves

Come on, guys, you know you want to play!

[Susan Delgado]

Meneltarmacil, please check your pms.

( :: MOD EDIT :: Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock - please PM Susan Delgado concerning your character.)

[ August 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Hey, if I write another character, can I play two? I have an idea for a settler stewing around in my foggy brain. If you want to wait for other people to try, before giving me your answer, that's fine. If you don't want me to make two, that is also fine. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[piosenniel]

From Meneltarmacil: (sent to me in a PM)

Please note that I will be out of town and unable to send any replies until Wednesday. If the RPG starts before then I'll try to work my character in later.

[Himaran]

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES -

The Hobbit’s Gift, Road to Erebor, Quest for the Ainereg, The Summons, Sailing Away, In the Shadow of the Star, Flight From Rohan.

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES - BOTH

For your character please include:

NAME: Olin

AGE: 56

RACE: Dwarf

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS :

Olin carries a single headed axe, a gift from a friend living at the mountain stronghold of Erebor. His side arms include a long knife and two hatchets.


APPEARANCE: Olin is the an average dwarf; 4ft 3" with stubby arms and a long, braided brown beard. His hair is cut short in the fashion of a warrior, barely reaching the base of his neck. Olin's most embarrassing feature is the absence of his left ear; sliced cleanly off the side of his head during a battle with orcs from the mountains. To hide his wound, the dwarf is usually seen clothed in a brown tunic with a hood, shading both his eyes and his missing ear. During battle, Olin protects himself with heavy chain-mail armor, and polished brass helmet.


PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

Olin has been described by many as a grumpy character. He is gruff, can be short and impolite during conversations. He rises late, and usually is not throroughly awake until close to an hour later. The argumentative dwarf debates (and fights) constantly, though he has never harmed a anyone during such an outbreak. But despite his habit, Olin is friendly and enjoys meeting people from different races. A born traveller, he was more than happy to leave the Blue Mountains and help the Gondorian's with their building project.

A warrior as well as mason, Olin is an excellent fighter for a young dwarf. His overcautiousness borders on paranoia, and Belin keeps his various weapons near him at all times. The dwarf is also fond of children, though he regards the fact as a weakness and attempts to hide it.


HISTORY:

Olin was raised by his father in the dwarven lands of the Blue Mountains. While growing up, he learned little of the outside world; his father being protective of him and keeping him inside the mountain realm. During the early years Olin was taught the arts of war and masonry. Eventually, when war broke out with Orcs in the Misty Mountains, Olin had his first taste of battle and distinguished himself as a fighter. Longing to travel and leave the confines of his home, Olin was glad for a chance to travel to Arnor, despite the obvious trial of building a city from scratch.


*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*


FIRST POST


When Olin the dwarf slowly and unsteadily exited his tent, the sun had risen and noon was approaching. The young dwarf was an amusing sight; his beard was tousled and entwined the wrong way, his entire face covered with loose strands of dark brown hair. For that was how Olin always looked upon waking, his only thought being to reach the campfire without tripping and falling over. The dwarf had experienced the embarressment of doing so many times before, all slightly different versions of the same mishap.

Finally reaching a campfire, Olin snatched a nearby mug and filled it with steaming hot tea. Taking a deep drink, the dwarf ignored the scorching pain from the heat and allowed the marvelous property of the drink to fill him with new life. Looking down at the empty mug, he refilled it and drank again, this time emptying the cup in a single slurping gulp. Ah, tea; delicious and soothing. Now I can focus on the task at hand.

Returning to his tent, now moving quickly, Olin dressed properly and re-braided his beard. Next, he checked his weaponry and equipment. The dwarf was unsure of when he assistance would be needed, but he wanted to be ready either way. Now fully awake, with his personal chores out of the way, Olin decided to take a stroll around the settlers' camp and discuss matters of construction with other dwarves. He knew that building a city would require extensive planning, and before leaving he sketched out priliminary ideas of his own. One always had to be prepared!

[ August 08, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Kryssal]

I could also take on another character of any race/gender. That is, if it would be needed [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[The X Phial]

Tinuviel - I am open to having you play two characters if you feel up to it. Write your idea up and I will PM you with my comments. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

Himaran - check your PMs

Kryssal - if you want to try writing up another character and think you can handle two then write it up and we will have a look.

I can't wait to start playing!

[ August 07, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]