Treachery of Men Discussion/Planning Thread

[piosenniel]

Everyone

Please go back to your original 'character bio' posts and edit in your First Posts there. You can then post afterwards on the thread that you've filled in your first post.

This will make it easier for me when I have to transfer the posts to the game thread.

Thanks in advance!

~*~ Pio

[Mithalwen]

Originally Posted by Anguirel

Here's my first post for the game. Mith, if you feel your character isn't quite right do tell.

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Well you have certainly made him come to life ...but you have spoonerised his name ... lacking great inspiration I called him Tathren thinking that willow would be a suitable soubriquet for an elf yet to reach full stature!

Otherwise ..he may never be so vivid again!

[Anguirel]

Hilarious...ah well...I'll make a few corrections.

Tathren, not Tanreth. Tathren, not Tanreth...

[Mithalwen]

Originally Posted by Anguirel

Hilarious...ah well...I'll make a few corrections.

Tathren, not Tanreth. Tathren, not Tanreth...

Well maybe that could be a little foible that Lachrandir always gets his name wrong...as is the way of elders with regard totheir inferiors... you could leave the ones in reported speech... I had a lecturer who couldn't remember my name and insisted on guessing "No! Don't tell me.... "Anastasia! " No "Araminta" ...noooo five minutes later with entire class in stiches " AUdrey! " No it's .... "No! DON'T tell me I'll have it in a minute..."

[Anguirel]

Like the protracted death scene of Edmund Blackadder the first -

RICHARD IV: ...rest in peace, Edmund my son...

EDMUND: Father! You got my name...

RICHARD IV: Oh, sorry, I meant Edwin.

[Mithalwen]

Well yes ..and my darling ma didn't even have that much grasp on my name... she would use my sister's, say " err" , seemed to think "I know we gave the other one a name..what was it?" and then sub in "darling". She only ever remembered it seemed when I was in trouble then I got every last syllable

But I am not blameless... I knew a Carmello once and referred to him without fail as Marcello......

[Folwren]

I've got two sisters and we're all living at home now, and Mom (more than half the time) calls all three of our names before getting to the right one. It usually ends up with all three of us looking up, ready for an order.

-- Folwren

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Linked ~*~ Pio

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NAME: Hunta

AGE: 25

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A long curved dagger, good for skinning wild game but acceptable in combat. A short bow of black wood, and a stout spear.

APPEARANCE: Average height but somewhat thick through the chest and shoulders, making him appear to be somewhat shorter than he is. Short black hair crudely cropped above the eyes and at the base of the neck. Dark brown eyes and a swarthy complexion with an unsmiling, serious face. He walks slowly and deliberately, like a bear patrolling its territory.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Hunta is a serious, determined and extraordinarily humourless young man. His dedication to the art of hunting has already made him something of a legend amongst his people, but he is far from popular. He is quick to learn and a careful study of anything that catches his interest, but to the dismay of many a teacher he will walk away from anything that does not appeal to him without hesitation or regret. He is quick to make up his mind on any issue, and can rarely explain why or how he has so decided. Despite the rather grim aspect this gives him to other people, Hunta craves adventure -- not for the hope of glory or reknown, but for the challenge presented by the unknown.

HISTORY: Hunta was born to humble parents in a remote corner of his homeland. His early life was difficult and sparse, but not unhappy, as his father tutored him in the ways of the hunting folk. He was a quick study and by the time he was an adolescent he was already leading hunting parties of his own, many of which included older hunters. His successes in the chase were matched by a gentle and careful relation with his mother from whom he learned the mysteries of herblore and healing which she had mastered.

When his parents died, Hunta left his village and undertook a wandering existence, seeking out new teachers and new game throughout the lands of the East. When he heard of a party of hunters who were proposing a long journey to the south to spend time with their Ulfing cousins he leapt at the chance to accompany them, for he felt it would give him the chance to join them.


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Fordim Hedgethistle's post:


Laylah ran ahead pulsing with the excitement of the hunt, silent in anticipation of the kill. They had tracked the buck for leagues and now it was close. Hunta could smell its spoor himself and hardly needed his companion’s more sensitive nose now, but after her many hours faithful labour he could not deny her. He swept through the low brush with no more sound than the wind, his rapid footfalls little more than the scurrying of small animals through the brush. They came to the edge of a clearing and pulled themselves close to the ground. The buck was standing now, his great brown head with its tall antlers erect and alert.

Their quarry was cunning. He had come to the field to flush out his hunters, to force them into the open where he could see them better and know what he should do. Hunta smiled and stroked Laylah’s thick neck. She acknowledged his hand with a low whimper and turned her head to lick his hand. Her lips were pulled back revealing long teeth, and her short golden coat stood up in a long ridge down her back. “Good girl,” he told her. “That was a good run and a fine pursuit.” Laylah merely returned her gaze to the buck; she knew there was still work to do. They began slowly to track their way around the edge of the clearing, looking for a place where Hunta could loose his bow.

The buck stirred and stamped his hoof, looking at the woods for the predators that he knew lurked within, but he could neither smell nor hear anything. He knew they were still there with the instinct of the hunted, but he was an old and wise in the ways of the forest and kept his head where a younger animal would have panicked and fled. A noise came to his ears which twitched and swivelled the better to hear. Lifting his head he heard the sound of fast approach, and the calls of musical voices in the air. He turned and fled toward the forest, and there came a sudden shaft from the side. Too late he tried to flinch and it buried itself in his flank, bringing agonising pain with every stride. He crashed into the forest wall and ran on into the trees, but the pain mounted with each step and he could feel something wet and hot running down his legs.

Hunta cursed foully the ill fortune of the hunt – and the riders who had so stupidly thundered past the clearing. His wonderment at their appearance and bearing was overcome by his anger. His shot had merely wounded the buck, meaning many more hours of tracking through the woods looking for his prey. The arrow had struck deep and hard and though the buck did not know it yet, it was already dead. But Hunta felt sick at the thought of the great beast wandering in pain and bewilderment, only to be dispatched at the end of struggle with a knife through the throat. It had deserved a cleaner death.

Calling Laylah to him he followed the blood trail back into the forest.


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[piosenniel]

Pass on by -- just leaving this space . . .

[Lalaith]

Linked ~*~ Pio

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Lalaith's character


NAME:Embla

AGE:25

RACE:man

GENDER:female

WEAPONS: Like most women of her people, she carries a knife with a bone handle and carved blade, for household work, skinning animals and, in extremis, for protection. Her real, and very effective, weapons are a baleful glower and a reputation - which she is keen to promote – for having “the eye”.

APPEARANCE: Embla is an Easterling but she is sallow-skinned rather than swarthy, as are most of the Bairka clan. She has dark dank hair which would be beautiful if she ever combed it; green-yellow eyes, heavy brows and a forehead already lined by scowling. Slight and slim but with poor posture, she is much given to clutching her woolen shawl about her. She wears traveling dress - calf-skin britches under a felt skirt and waistcoat, crudely embroidered with wool, and a linen shift underneath. She wears gold earrings and bracelets studded with turquoise, and a ring of some value which she inherited from her mother.

HISTORY: Embla’s problems really began before she was born. Her mother Rind was a high-born member of the Bairka – a small but wealthy trading tribe of Easterlings who settled close by the Borrim. They were lighter-skinned, with straight long hair, and more matriarchal than their neighbours. Marriages among the Bairka were usually arranged with the consent of both partners and bigamy and polygamy was unknown.
Proud and willful, Rind took it into her head to marry a devil-may-care fellow named Hrapp. He proved a drunken and unpleasant rogue, and Rind, disenchanted with her chosen mate, had her little daughter fostered with her own powerful family. But when Embla was thirteen years old, her mother died and the cantankerous father reclaimed his child, quarrelling irrevocably with the Bairka in the process. All Embla’s promising marriage plans were dashed. Eventually, Hrapp agreed, for a modest bride-price, to send Embla off as a second wife to the Borrim envoy Khandr. Embla, unconsulted and unwilling, was furious. Nor were the Borrim very happy with the deal – they had hoped for an advantageous alliance with Bairka rulers and were unaware of the family quarrel. In short, Embla’s marital life began with negative feelings on all sides, and relations between all the three people involved in this ill-advised second marriage are, as this story begins, severely strained.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Embla is a thoughtful, sensitive and observant woman and if life had treated her slightly better she might also have been quite a nice one. But her situation has made her extremely bitter, and she is prone to brood over real and imagined insults. She hates her rival, Briga, and has mixed feelings about her husband Khandr...she does not love him but she perversely dreams of turning his attentions away from Briga, and then having the pleasure of spurning him. She has not yet borne her husband his longed-for son - unsurprising given her cold and empty marriage bed.
While she is too proud to complain openly, Embla finds relief in lugubrious, portentous or ambiguously threatening remarks – the Bairka are considered skilled in foresight and she likes to exploit this to her advantage.

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Lalaith's post

Embla stirred the fire and smiled to herself. It was not a very pleasant smile.
Briga, the senior wife - the hag, as she privately called her - had lit this fire in the hearth, and then told her to tend it. She, proud daughter of the Bairka, had obeyed - but she had her revenge. Small, unimportant victory, but sweet nevertheless.

Open conflict was not her method. After all, Khandr, her husband…she clenched her jaw in anger at this last word, now so empty of any meaning it had carried in her girlish dreams. In those days, she imagined she would wed according to the customs of her people. A hand-fasting with a young man of her own choosing, each cleaving solely to the other. Yes, in open conflict, her “husband”, Khandr would take, as always, the hag’s part.

When her worthless father had sold her into what she regarded as little better than concubinage, she was horrified. But she at least imagined her existence would be soft and pampered - that the ageing husband would dote on his new young bride. Inexplicably, her youth seemed to hold little allure for Khandr. Instead, he clung to the familiar, middle-aged comforts offered by the hag. His infrequent visits to Embla’s tent were due to his longing for a son, not for her nubile charms.

So, when ordered to sit by the hearth, Embla made sure her retort had nothing to do with the task at hand, nothing to which Briga could reasonably object. You will not choke on big words and pig fat, sister wife, she said grinning. The older woman was discomfited, Embla could tell, and puzzled. Was this perhaps a curse or insult among the Bairka? Then Embla gazed deep into the fire, rubbed her ear-lobes, touched the skin beneath her eye and muttered dark and obscure words.
Axe-time, sword-time, shields are sundered,
After the wolf do wild men follow.

Embla knew well that her people had a somewhat mysterious and even oracular reputation among the Borrim. And now this gave her great satisfaction – the older woman looked distinctly alarmed, and left the room hastily. Of course, it did not take much to unsettle or intimidate Briga at this time. None of the Borrim were comfortable in their current surroundings. None except Embla herself. She was used to living in an alien, hostile environment – she had, after all, been doing so since her marriage. In fact, she rather enjoyed observing the discomfiture of the rest of the party - her husband, the hag, and those two doltish hunters - watching them feel as unwelcome, as wary, as ill at ease as she herself had always been since she first arrived among the Borrim.

As for her menacing pronouncements….Embla smirked again. Many of the women in her family did indeed have the sight. She remembered well the gestures of the Bairka sybils, and the kind of words they spoke when their visions came upon them, and she knew how sinister they could be. But she also knew enough about the sight to know that her Eye – if she did possess the gift - was too clouded by hate and anger to reveal any real truths.


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[Child of the 7th Age]

I've added the profile for my character Briga. Click here.

Since she is a minor character, I slightly condensed the profile format. I'll be gland to edit if you see any problems.

Post to follow.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Originally Posted by Durelin

Name: Thuringwethil, or Tyra as she is known to the Ulfings who must know her – subject to change!
Age: NA
Race: Maia
Gender: Female (typical form/association)

All fine and good, but:

1. does she have wings, and, if so...
2. do they work?

(If the answer to both is "yea" then might I suggest a name change to Rogina?)

[Durelin]

Rogina is adorned with wings like a bat's, figuratively speaking only.

Purely a fashionable accessory, I assure you.

Ah, vanity.

*Note the simile: blatant figurative language.

[Folwren]

I will not be around until Monday evening. I will try to write a first post then or Tuesday sometime. In what sort of hurry are we to get these done? I've been trying to think what would be appropriate, and after reading Anguirel's first post, I may have an idea growing. Anyway, we'll see early next week.

Till then!

-- Folwren

[Volo]

I'm sorry, but I have been pretty busy, I'll still write the post and play if you're willing to have a slow person with you. I should also note that I might not have an internet connection during 18-29.10...

[Anguirel]

My first post for Gausen and Drenda is up.

Also, bad news I'm afraid. Wish I'd been in a position to tell you earlier, but I'll be absent from 20th-29th of October, in the south of France, without internet access. I'll leave it to pio to decide whether the game should be put on hold till that time (I expect we'll have started by then).

[Kath]

I'm afraid that my first post will be late in coming. I have limited computer access this weekend as well as an essay for Wednesday. If I feel a drastic need for procrastination I may get one up before but I think it's unlikely I can get one up before Thursday.

[piosenniel]

I also have a number of commitments over the next week.

Here's what I'd like to see done - by October 28th, I want all the Character Bios and First Posts on board. That gives everyone 2 weeks.

I'll be sending out reminders by PM to everyone.

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Anguirel

When you return, you'll need to decide the order for the posts and I'll get them onto the game thread - that way you'll be here when the game starts.

~*~ Pio

[CaptainofDespair]

Linked ~*~ Pio


CaptainofDespair’s Character

NAME: Ulfang
AGE: 71
RACE: Men, of the Ulfing People
GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Ulfang bears a long, curved scimitar-like weapon on his belt. The sword is rather plain in appearance, save a single gemstone placed in the center of the blade’s hilt.

APPEARANCE: The Ulfing chief is often adorned in a variety of garment types, usually in color combinations of subtle reds and deep browns. However, as a status symbol he always wears a great brown bear pelt draped over his shoulders. Ulfang, despite the effects of time, is still quite large in frame. His face is pot-marked from diseases and battles that span his lifetime. Many of those crags now lie hidden, as a great beard speckled with whites and the lingering splotches of his younger years now sprawls across his proud features.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Ulfang, despite his age, remains defiant and arrogant. He firmly believes he is still quite capable of leading his people, although he recognizes several of his duties have been usurped by his sons, and especially Uldor. But the truth of Ulfang is that his rule has become that of the fangless wolf. While some might think that age would temper the warlord, he has instead become ever more nasty and spiteful. But that terrible anger he displays is often misplaced. Ulfang’s mind is failing him, although his other senses are not in such a decline. Threats are often misinterpreted by the aging man, and he at times acts against his confederates from this mental impairment. As such, his sons have been able to manipulate him more than he realizes.

HISTORY: When the Easterlings crossed into Lothlann and Beleriand in FA 463, there were two houses. Ulfang, lord of the Ulfing peoples, led one of those two. He had come at the urging of Morgoth, who sought to use the race of Men to aid him in the defeat of the Elves. Having come into Beleriand, the Ulfings made a pact with Caranthir. Under the watchful eyes of the Elves the House of Ulfang settled in Beleriand. Yet, while Ulfang ‘leads’ the Ulfing peoples, however, it is his sons, and especially Uldor, who truly rule. In his pride and arrogance, the leader of the Ulfings is not happy with the Elves acting as if they are the ones in control, even with what little control he really has over his people.

When the time finally came for Ulfang and his sons to march to war with the Elves and Edain against the darkness of Morgoth, they betrayed them in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

[Noinkling]

Pio

I've written my first post. I was thinking one or any number of your characters can dialog with the old gal.

[Folwren]

I just realized that in my character bio I have no history. Sometime I'm going to add that to it. Not tonight.

I am back, but I am not feeling my greatest. Tomorrow is the soonest I'll have any new writing up, but if it turns out that I do actually have some sort of vexing illness (a cold or sore throat, blah), then I can't promise anything. I'm so sorry to add myself to the list of people 'not quite able to put up my first post'. Be that as it may, I can't really help it. I will try hard, though.

I will be able to finish my bio and my first post by October 28!

-- Folwren

[Anguirel]

Fea is having serious doubts about being able to play Uldor with full commitment. Uldor is a lynchpin of a part and if possible, pio, it would be brilliant if you could find a replacement.

We also need to find a Brodda...

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Rune's Character Description:


Have you posted in The Golden Perch Inn, The Green Dragon Inn, The White Horse Inn, or The Eorling Mead Hall in Rohan? – YES (The Green Dragon Inn)


Linked ~*~ Pio

_______________________________________


NAME: Erling

AGE: 36

RACE: Men, of the Ulfing People

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A short standard sword, small wooden shield and a short-bow (mostly used for hunting)

APPEARANCE: 1.69 meters high, have broad shoulders and his back is a bit crooked. He has a small face, brown eyes and thick hair that is black as coal. All of his clothes are woollen with out any specific colour(stained with different earth-colours by long intense use) , he wears the same 2 sets of clothes until they fall apart. He owns a chain mail, but only wear it the few times he has been to war.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: A down to earth man, a pessant, he takes pride in his work and it is what he really want to do without any disturbances. He can see the need for war and can fight, but he does not hail it. He is not easily fooled and even though he would never be considered wise he has his own kind of wisdom. (Butterburryish one might call it). He is somewhat of a loner, who does not socialise much, not that he does not like the company of others, but he treasure long periods of solitude.

HISTORY: He was raised into a family of farmers and was thought the crafts of farming at a very young age by his father. His up-bringing was tough, but not with out love. He had to work hard each day with his father and was punished when he made a mistake, but his progress was also recognised and awarded. Both mother and father died when he was 20 from an unknown disease and he has been living alone ever since. He has a few distant relatives, but has not had any real contact with them for years.


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Rune Son of Bjarne's post

Erling’s hair flowed in the wind as he and his hunting companions walked home from their successful hunt.

They were quiet as they walked along. Not an awkward silence at all. It was just that they did not need to talk much; they never did. There them, which enabled them to enjoy socializing in silence as much as if they were merrily drinking and singing together.

For Erling there was nothing as good at these kinds of hunts, they left him with a splendid feeling of happiness. Not even the feeling of accomplishment after a successful harvest could satisfy Erling as much.

The small company approached their destination point, a nice little house, Grimr’s home. Erling knew from previous experiences that it was a friendly house, a bit too noisy and lively, but cozy and friendly. As they drew nearer to the house Erling for some reason started to pick up pace, as if the hunt had made him long for such homely coziness.

As they stood at the front of the house, a fair bit of movement could be heard through the door. “By the sound of it, our arrival has not gone unnoticed,” Erling said with a smile upon his lips. It was impossible to tell whether Grimr had heard him or not. For in two steps Grimr had opened the door and gone in.

“Let the young fellows take care of our prizes, Erling! Come and have a cup of ale with us!” came Grimr’s call to him from within the house. After leaving his share of the hunting “spoils” with the twins, Erling went in. He greeted Granny with a smile and a deep bow and took the large cup of ale offered him.


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[Kath]

Ok I'm back, I'm no longer busy (for all of a week) and I will get a post up within the next couple of days.

[Celuien]

Just checking in to say that my first post will be in shortly (as in by tomorrow evening).

[Kath]

Okay I've put my first post up but I just want to check a couple of things. First I used the word "ma'am". Can I have that or should I use something else?

Second, will the Ulfings and everyone else know about the call to war by the time we're placing these posts? I was going to have Bergr overhear a discussion about it but thought I'd better ask first.

[Durelin]

Alrighty, my first post has been edited in. Sorry it took forever; just needed time and at least a little inspiration to come together for once.

Just let me know if there are any problems, or if you'd like me to include more.

[piosenniel]

OK - my post is on board.

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Rune

I did bring your character in to my post (HERE) at the end. If you want me to edit him out, I can.

~*~ Pio

[Child of the 7th Age]

My post will go up tomorrow....

[piosenniel]

I've sent out a general reminder to everyone needing to get their First Posts or Bios done.

Anguirel will be back this weekend - please get them done so he can look them over and set up the order of posts for the game.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio

[Noinkling]

Good post, Pio! I'm looking forward to being in your little family groups and writing along with you.

[piosenniel]

Bêthberry has offered a seasonal RPG in Rohan – The Veil is Lifted.

It’s a 7th Age game, based loosely around Hallowe’en and open to all comers.

Come join us and have a little fun!

Game Thread – HERE
Discussion Thread – THERE

~*~ Pio

[Dimturiel]

I have finally managed to place my first post. Do let me now if you want anything changed.

[Celuien]

It's a few hours later than I thought it would be, but my post has been added.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Post is now going up in my original space: here.

Pio - Could you wait till tonight to post it up on the game? Since I refer to Embla, I wanted to check first with Lalaith to make sure that I'm on track.

[piosenniel]

Actually, I'm not posting any posts to the game, until Anguirel comes back and puts them in the order he wants them.

[Mithalwen]

Hours and the computer died just as I was about to post .. I am crying....

[Mithalwen]

NAME: Tathren (epessë meaning willowy derived from his "mother name". Full name Menelmir Tathardil)

AGE: 36 (which I think is about 16 in elf years)

RACE: Noldorin elf

GENDER: male

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.) Has a long knife formerly the property of his uncle (I am assuming the page would not be more heavily armed than his lord).


APPEARANCE:Raven hair shorn to his shoulders, large dark grey eyes which give him a watchful appearance, pale complexion. He is dressed in a like manner to Lachrandir but his garments are plainer. Not yet full grown he stands already over six feet tall but the increase in height has as yet far outstripped increase in stature making his long standing (and universally used) nickname even more appropriate. His horse is younger than Lachrandir's and so a darker grey.

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)

Tathren is stronger both physically and mentally than he appears. He is fair spoken and soft voiced but aware of his role he is likely to be doing more listening than speaking at first. He has a quiet but mischievous sense of humour and can be quite spirited when the spirit moves him.

Lachrandir took an interest in the boy for the sake of his uncle - one of the companions slain at the Dagor Bragollach) but Tathren's skill as a horseman combined with his lithe frame meant that he had more chance of keeping up with Lachrandir than other possible companions.

HISTORY:

Tathren is the son of exiles. His father was also killed in the Dagor Bragollach but earlier in the battle than his elder brother. His mother and an elder sister,born at the beginning of the long peace, survive.

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Mithalwen's post


Exhilaration and apprehension had been the emotions duelling in Tathren's heart the length of their journey, for he was young and high hearted and no danger or duty could dispel the delight of youth freed from maternal supervision to ride far and fast on one of the finest horses his people possessed alongside - well at the heels of - their swiftest rider. Yet this was no essay of skill to fill a time of leisure; though he had spoken in jest to Lachrandir he had wit enough to appreciate the significance of their mission and the honour that had been accorded him.

An honour he hoped that was not entirely to the charge put on Lachrandir some fifteen years ago by his brother in arms. Tathren's mischievous form of address had masked a certain sincerity, for he admired Lachrandir as much as his late uncle and, if truth be told, liked him rather better, never having quite forgiven or forgotten.... but this was not a time for walking the paths of memory. He dispelled the recollection. as his senses were assaulted by the sights sounds and indeed smells of the Ulfing settlement.

Lachrandir had spoken truly; this was unlike anything he had experienced before. Though their own dwellings since the loss of Thargelion were far from the finest of the Noldor, it was in the nature of his people to make things fair even when they made for necessity. He doubted that any straits would lead them to make buildings as crudely as this. The roughly thatched huts seemed to be built of wattle and daub and were arranged haphazardly within the stockade . In such buildings we might house our beasts, thought Tathren, as indeed they seem to… but we would not dwell so close by them. The young elf was hard put not to gawp as much as the guards. He found these people quite as astonishing as they did him. To his eyes they were no more finely constructed than their dwellings - short, squat and crude. Scarce taller than dwarves, he realised having dismounted and somewhat reluctantly entrusted his colt to one of them. His face betrayed none of the wonderment he felt; he used every scrap of self control to assume the dignity he deemed essential to his role as he followed Lachrandir into the great hall. Tathren had tried to ride by his side, now he walked carefully in his shadow, his dark grey eyes watching, waiting …
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[Folwren]

Uldor's character description and bio is up. I am about to being working on the first post. I am afraid to say that his History section is somewhat long, but most of it had already been laid out for me, so it was fairly easy to do.

I am unsure about his contact with Morgoth and his servants? Someone let me know if what I did was alright or if it isn't alright.

Let me know of anything else that needs fixing, too. don't hesitate to tell me if something needs to be changed because it's simply not good.

Anyhow, as I said above, I am about to begin on my post and it should be up eventually tonight.

EDIT: Alright, first post is up. I hope it works. If it is not, let me know.

Anguirel, are you planning on writing anything about that first meeting? I had some thoughts of what I could write, but it's not so important that it has to be written. But I thought that if you did want to write it, then it would be fine, and fun.

-- Folwren

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

My first post is up.