Assigned to Mordor RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Eomer of the Rohirrim · 01-18-2006, 04:51 PM

Eomer sulked. He was not enjoying this at all. Moreover, his fingers ached, because he had not had access to a guitar and thus could not play bar chords. This was particularly gruesome because, much like continuous drinking of alcohol will evade hangovers, continuous playing of bar chords (which was strongly encouraged by the Mordorian authorities) would stave off the inhumane physical effects of playing bar chords. As a result, Eomer's fingers were now totally deformed, bruised and bloody. He was feeling extremely sorry for himself.

He looked up and caught Fordim staring at him. What a freak, thought Eomer. Who's he trying to impress with that snout? And he had the temerity to look disgusted at Eomer! Well, insofar as such an odd face could look disgusted. Eomer shuddered and turned away.

He practically jumped out of his boots as he noticed that Nilpaurion Felagund had crept up behind him. With long straggly hair and a wholly mischievous look in his eye, he winked at Eomer.

"Hello, good sir" he said in a curiously cultured voice, which sharply contrasted with his filthy and bloody appearance. "Might I campaign for your vote?"

Eomer just gaped at him. "You want me to vote for you? But....you'll be killed if you get votes. Are you out of your mind?"

"That is such a complicated question I would advise you not to let me explain the answer" said Nilp, all the while making strange and unsettling faces at Eomer. It was as if a bunch of people were trying to coexist in that head. "Shame about your fingers; here, hold this against them." He tossed some raw meat to Eomer but Eomer was too bewildered to act. The slab of meat—which was not especially dainty—landed on Eomer's delicate hand, forcing him to yowl in pain.

"If I vote for you will you leave me alone!" wailed Eomer. Nilp just winked again, and scuttled off.

What an odd person, thought Eomer, as he kissed his poor fingers better. When he was quite over the shock of the injury, he walked over to the Dwarf's Stick'n'Stone arrangement, and cast his vote.

++NILPAURION FELAGUND

As he did it, he thought that the Offending Party Members would all vote for a newcomer. Would the newcomers be clever enough to strategize against this? "Hopefully no-one would vote for such a handsome and poorly man as myself" he mumbled, still sucking his fingers.

As he walked back over to his favourite 'alone place'—a crumbled wall quite near the well—he overheard someone say "Whoa! Check that guy's fingers! How sick is that!!!" Eomer didn't make eye contact, but he at least took some pleasure in knowing that whoever said it deserved to be assigned to Mordor.

"Not like me..." he sighed.

01-18-2006, 04:51 PM	#11
Eomer of the Rohirrim Auspicious Wraith Join Date: May 2002 Location: The Netherlands Posts: 4,859	Eomer sulked. He was not enjoying this at all. Moreover, his fingers ached, because he had not had access to a guitar and thus could not play bar chords. This was particularly gruesome because, much like continuous drinking of alcohol will evade hangovers, continuous playing of bar chords (which was strongly encouraged by the Mordorian authorities) would stave off the inhumane physical effects of playing bar chords. As a result, Eomer's fingers were now totally deformed, bruised and bloody. He was feeling extremely sorry for himself. He looked up and caught Fordim staring at him. What a freak, thought Eomer. Who's he trying to impress with that snout? And he had the temerity to look disgusted at Eomer! Well, insofar as such an odd face could look disgusted. Eomer shuddered and turned away. He practically jumped out of his boots as he noticed that Nilpaurion Felagund had crept up behind him. With long straggly hair and a wholly mischievous look in his eye, he winked at Eomer. "Hello, good sir" he said in a curiously cultured voice, which sharply contrasted with his filthy and bloody appearance. "Might I campaign for your vote?" Eomer just gaped at him. "You want me to vote for you? But....you'll be killed if you get votes. Are you out of your mind?" "That is such a complicated question I would advise you not to let me explain the answer" said Nilp, all the while making strange and unsettling faces at Eomer. It was as if a bunch of people were trying to coexist in that head. "Shame about your fingers; here, hold this against them." He tossed some raw meat to Eomer but Eomer was too bewildered to act. The slab of meat—which was not especially dainty—landed on Eomer's delicate hand, forcing him to yowl in pain. "If I vote for you will you leave me alone!" wailed Eomer. Nilp just winked again, and scuttled off. What an odd person, thought Eomer, as he kissed his poor fingers better. When he was quite over the shock of the injury, he walked over to the Dwarf's Stick'n'Stone arrangement, and cast his vote. ++NILPAURION FELAGUND As he did it, he thought that the Offending Party Members would all vote for a newcomer. Would the newcomers be clever enough to strategize against this? "Hopefully no-one would vote for such a handsome and poorly man as myself" he mumbled, still sucking his fingers. As he walked back over to his favourite 'alone place'—a crumbled wall quite near the well—he overheard someone say "Whoa! Check that guy's fingers! How sick is that!!!" Eomer didn't make eye contact, but he at least took some pleasure in knowing that whoever said it deserved to be assigned to Mordor. "Not like me..." he sighed.