The White Horse

[Susan Delgado]

Susan nodded and rose from the table. She approached the dark stranger, whom she'd noticed was looking around shyly, as if wanting to talk but too afraid to start a conversation of his own. On the way, she asked one of the ubiquitous servers to brink two mugs to the table, mead for her and ale for him.

She sat, startling him. "Hello, I'm called Susan. I noticed you were here all by yourself and thought I'd buy you a drink." She said politely. She didn't menetion that all the drinks she bought were on the house.

He looked around, as if wondering where she'd come from. "I'm Cole. Um...thanks for the drink," he added as they arrived. He glanced into his mug, then sniffed it. "Ale," he commented noncomittally.

[Adanedhel]

Adanedhel sat and mulled over Bethberry's offer of the 'special watch' that would be set up in Edoras. He again rubbed his chin, a sign to anyone that knew him that he was thinking deeply over something.
His weather worn face set into a look of deep concentration. You could see the dark tan of his face from being exposed to the elements his whole life, battle scars on his arms beneath the black cloak he wore proving he was the veteran of many battles and skirmishes and his bright blue eyes showed a depth and understanding of the world rare of one his age. Adanedhel knew people were sometimes unsettled by his eyes, he had been told by some of his closest friends his eyes seemed to see into the person they were looking at, and Adanedhel used this to his advantage locking eyes with people and trying to see through the window to their soul.
His piercing blue eyes still sweeping over the room quickly, watching people and learning their ways. He watched as one woman went and sat with a man dressed not unlike himself in the black cloak sitting in the corner doing as he did, watching the people and making his own assumptions on their intentions and whether or not they were ones to trust.

His blue eyes were drawn to Bethberry as she spoke with the woman that ended up with the dark stranger in the corner and Adanedhel instantly knew that something was going on and kept one eye on the dark stranger and the woman.

Adanedhel felt strange being back in Edoras, for many a year he had traveled abroad hiring his blade out to any that would have it. Ever since he was a young boy he had not been to Edoras, though a man of the Rohirrim he was unaccustomed to their ways and felt very out of place in the realm of the horse lords. When he was a young boy he and his parents had left Edoras for Minas Tirith, his father was a blacksmith and looking for more work and Minas Tirith offered it. On the way there they were besieged by a band of raiding Orcs and Adanedhel’s parents were tortured and killed, Adanedhel barely escaping with his life.
When he fled he ran for weeks and weeks, living off the berries and small animals he could catch until finally he came to the eaves of a great forest. Mirkwood. He flittered on the edge of the dark wood, afraid to enter until he was caught by an Elven Hunting party and taken to the King. He took pity on the orphaned boy and Adanedhel grew up as an Elf, learning their ways and eventually earning the Elven name Adanedhel, meaning in the common tongue ‘Elf-Man’ and the two-handed sword he wields, one that when used in battle comes afire as though infused with magic.

Bethberry then came back to Adanedhel and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his reverie of the past. She noticed his surprisement and said in a low tone:

‘Are you okay? You seemed startled?’

Adanedhel smiled and replied:

‘Just thinking of the past….’

Bethberry nodded in understand and then sat at the chair she had vacated before and placed her arms on the table clasping her hands together.

‘Have you thought of what I asked?’

He nodded, is shaggy black hair bouncing as he did so and replied seriously in answer of the question

‘I have been away from Edoras too long, it is time I returned for a while and gave something back to my place of birth, my heritage’

He leaned back in his chair slightly and brushed strands of his thick black hair out of his eyes with his hand his blue eyes thoughtful.....

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Adanedhel ]

[Airerûthiel]

It had been a long journey back east, but he knew it was no use not to stop walking - not now, not when he was so close to his goal. As he reached the citadel of Edoras, his heart seemed to be dragging him further and further eastwards, back to Gondor, back to his true home in Ithilien. But he couldn't go back, no matter how much he wanted to. He could never wash the blood stains off his hands for good.

And yet...if he went back, it would only be justice. He would die for what he knew were his crimes, yet in the eyes of Gondor he would die for what they thought his father had done. The hour grew late, and his silver-grey mare whinnied softly as her hooves clicked on the cobbled courtyard of the inn. He stroked her neck lovingly, speaking to her in the language of his mother's people. But even though he loved this horse, his one companion and trusted friend, more than life itself, he could not look into her soulful eyes.

He dismounted and quieted her in the tongue of the Elves and of Rohan. After stabling her for the night, he stared up into the sky. The stars twinkled like pinpricks of light buttoning down night's midnight blue velvet cloak. But written in their patterns he saw only the deeds that had haunted his steps for what seemed to be his whole life. Sighing heavily and loosening his grip on the sword that had done the deed, he walked into the inn.

~*~*~*~*~

A blast of cold wind came in through the wooden door of The White Horse, along with a hooded and cloaked figure dressed in black. His head bent low, he walked towards the bar and sat down at a stool, barely looking up to grunt his order of a pint of ale. Normally strangers were disregarded in The White Horse; they were stared at momentarily and then conversation was resumed again. But this time it was as silent as the grave for what seemed like eternity.

He drained the mug's contents in one go, surprising even a group of burly Dwarves in the corner who were sure to be flat out on the floor after their next celebratory pitcher. In the background somebody started a slow clap, but was quickly quieted by the sound of "Ssshhh!" from the other end of the bar. Lighting his pipe, the stranger glanced around warily, as though suspecting someone was going to leap out and attack him, and then stalked almost menacingly over to an empty table in the corner.

Accustomed as she was to strangers visiting the inn, Bethberry couldn't help but stare with the rest of its occupants. She was intrigued by this person; he reminded her of someone from her past, and yet she couldn't think who. Mysteries were becoming more common in the borderland of the Horse-lords, but none so strange as this Ranger. "Who is he?" she asked herself. "And what business does he have in the Riddermark?"

[cole]

Cole drank a bit of the ale. It tasted good to him. That could have been from the drink he had packed in his canteen. It could make pretty much anything taste sweet. He offered her some.


"Here, this is a drink I encountered in my journeys. It is very good, you might like it." As he passed the drink he glove fell off revealing the heart shaped scar on his wrist. He reached for his glove quickly but couldn't find it anywhere. He sighed and admitted defeat, he lost it.

He tried to draw attention away from his wrist he covered it in his cloak sleeve. "Why is everyone scared of me susan? Nobody wishes to speak to me other than you. Was it something I did?"

[the real findorfin]

Again the doors of the White Horse opened and Fin stepped inside. His heavy black cloak covered his fine garb and gave him the appearance of a grave figure. He looked around at the scene that greeted him, 'what no looks?'

He had travelled far from the west and in those regions every newcomer was watched an inspected for faults. In a way he enjoyed the lack of attention and he strode towards the bar, but a glance from several females certainly did nothing to dampen the half-elf's spirits.

"A pint my friend," he said jovially.

As the drink was poured, Fin sighed happily. He had been sleeping rough for many a day and now it was time to relax before he moved on again. He had made good time since Rivendell and had many weeks to spare before the meeting. If the common room was anything to go by, he would be staying for quite some time.

He picked up his pint and took a long swig.

"Ahh, that's better!" His loud comments attracted some attention but many were deep in their own conversations. Fin wondered if anyone would talk to him, or would he have to make conversation.

"We'll see," he murmured, "we'll see."

[Kiara]

"Well met, Hirilaelin," came the reply from the stuffy-nosed dwarf, "I am Parin Stonemouth, of the lands of Erebor, and I am not drunk!" she said, still somewhat flustered by the chuckling from earlier. Parin dropped her head to hide the crimson stain of embarassment which she felt burning into her cheeks.

Peering once more into the depths of her wholesome broth, the reflection of the gay face across from her showed not a laugh of disdain, however, but a warm friendly grin, and the little dwarven lady dared to raise her head again risking the perusal of those shining eyes.

"From whence do you hail, my lady?" she said, trying hard to enunciate and communicate through the thickness of her cold. Her deep brown eyes shone with curiousity and excitement. The same passion that thrilled in her heart whenever she heard the stories of those who visitied the inn was rising at the possibility of a tale. Perhaps Hirilaelin had a story to tell of adventure and romance! Oh, the little dwarf yearned for adventure, and as she inclined her head to hear what the lady had to tell, her bonny blond braid fell into her soup without her notice, so dreamy had she become....

"Please, tell me your story," she entoned in a hushed voice....

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Kiara ]

[Hirilaelin]

Hiri smiled at the stuffy nosed lass. "My story? There is not really much to tell. And I doubt that you would find it interesting." She took a sip of her ale. Parin, noticing her braid was in the broth, pulled it out and shook her head vigorously. "No no! I'm sure that your tale would be quite interesting. Full of adventure and what-not."

"Adventure?" Hiri laughed. "I have had no adventures. I am but a traveler, going where my heart wills me."

"But," Parin protested, "you must have had some adventures! How can you say that traveling is not adventuresome?"

"Traveling, if it is one thing, I would pick cold. I have slept under a bush many a time. That is really all. But, if you wish it, I will tell you my story, at least up to this point. You may find it dull and dreary however." Parin shook her head again, and said firmly, "No, I will not find it dreary, or dull."

Hirilaelin laughed, and said mischieveiously, "Fine then. But remember, you asked for it!" Settling back in her chair, she stretched her legs outin front of her, and took a sip of ale before she began. "I was born in Dale, on thye Long Lake." She paused, and asked Parin, "Have you heard of it? It is near the Lonely Mountain."

Parin nodded. "Indeed. Some of my family lives there." Hiri nodded, satasfied. "Well, as I was saying, I was born in Dale. I had a wonderful time there, but when I was twenty, I decided that I wanted to travel. Dale suddenly seemed small, and my feet restless. I yearned to have some of your "adventure." So, with the blessings of my parents, I left Dale, and journeyed down the river to Mirkwood, where I visited the elves."

'After spending a fair amount of time with the elves of Mirkwood, King Thrainduil decided to send some elves across the Misty Mountains to Rivendell, and I decided to go with them, wanting to see the fabled Imladris as well. Traveling southwest, we came to the high pass. On our way over, a small band of orcs waylayed us, and we lost a man to a poison arrow. We killed the orcs, and continued over to Rivendell."

Parin's eyes were wide open. "You do not call that adventure? It sounds... Well, it sounds adventurous! And dangerous." Hiri laughed. "I suppose that at the time, it was quite an adventure. But I was terrified when the orcs attacked. It was my first "adventure" I suppose, but I performed awfully." She paused to take a sip of her ale, which she noticed was almost empty, then continued.

"As I said, we crossed over to Rivendell, and were recieved warmly. When the others decided to go back to Mirkwood,they offered to take me with them, but I declined. I had decided that I would stay on this side of the Misty Mountains for a time. Also, I had met someone. His name was Cúeledh, and I did not know it at the time, but I was in love with him."

"What hapened?" asked Parin. "Where is he now?"

Hirilaelin sighed. "I do not know. He departed for Valinor, and I have not seen him since." She paused, lost in memories of other times. Parin sat silent. Presently, Hiri stirred, and said, "Where was I? Oh yes. I left Rivendell after a time, and wandered over the lands, living in the wild. I decided to come south, because I had heard tales. And here I am now."

Parin commented slowly, "That was a very adventuresome story I would say."

"Yes, you could say that I suppose. It seemed so at the time at least. Looking back, it seems like no more than a small part of what I have done. But now," she said, "tell me your story! What is a dwarf doing here is Rohan? Where do you come from, and why do you travel? Please stop me if I seem nosy."

[Bêthberry]

Cold, rainy, even icey weather had not deterred traffic from coming to The White Horse. Bethberry looked over the many patrons entertaining themselves and each other and was thankful that the coffers would be full this week. It had cost much to outfit the pursuers who went after the horse thieves but with crowds like these, it would be possible to recover the costs. she hoped fervently that the horses would be recovered and everyone would be back soon. The delay in their return worried her, had nagged her through out the weeks. Finally, she returned to her work alcove, opened the small window, and whistled for Wyrd. He appeared; she fed him, attached a hurriedly written message to his leg, whispered to him, and, carrying him to the window, set him off. What good he could do she knew not, but a sign by any means might be helpful.

But there were patrons to see to. Closing the window, she returned to the mead hall. There she was happy to see Éorlan, Smith of the Word and Culoth putting their heads together, and that Hirilaelin and Parin, were chatting--Bethberry wondered if Lauromae would join them or this strange new visitor who looked vaguely familiar. He wore the clothes of a Ranger but had the air and carriage of a guard of Gondor. Strange. Perhaps Adanedhel would be interested in talking with him. She hoped soon to be able to discuss her plans with him. Susan appeared to be bringing that quiet soul Cole out; they were talking warily it seemed. Then there were the patrons Bethberry needed to speak to directly.

She approaching a most affable looking half-elf who seemed to favour the ladies.

"Fin, I believe your name is. It is a supper you are wanting and ale? Silver talks mightily here. Show me yours and your dinner will be here in ten minutes, whatever you chose."

He eyed her with a grin and handed over the payment ere she moved on.

The man who chose a table by the window had kept his brown cape wrapped around him. He watched Bethberry as she moved around the mead-hall; nor did he remove his eyes as she approached him.

"Our spiced wine meets your approval?" she asked him cordially. He nodded.

"Will your dinner be as good, and your rooms?" he asked, a hint of insouciance in his voice, but just a hint.

"It would not be otherwise, Master Traveller, for even were our fare poor, hungry travellers are often not fastidious in their tastes."

He managed a grin and a nod.

"Dinners are three pieces of silver, a bed, with a fireplace, eight pieces, if you need to stay the night. We have rooms for a longer stay should you require it. Shall I tell the maids to prepare one for you?" Intrigued by his manner and anxious for any news of other travellers on the road, Bethberry sat down at the table opposite him.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Susan Delgado]

Susan declined the offer as politely as she could. Ale was not to her taste; she much prefered the honeyed taste of mead.

When the man before her plaintively asked why no one would speak to him, why they seemed to be afraid of him, she had to pause for thought. She glanced him over, taking in his dark clothes and sharp hooded visage. Did he really suppose he looked inviting? She herself had only approached him because she had been directed to. He continued to gaze at her pleadingly... she had to make some response.

"Cole...you don't look very inviting, sitting there, huddled in a dark corner. Maybe you should try mingling a little more."

[ February 05, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Adanedhel]

As Bethberry sat with the man that seemed by all accounts to like the ladies she motioned to him towards the new comer that had entered the Inn. As many that would rather not draw attention to themselves this ranger was wearing the long heavy black cloak, the cowl still pulled low over the strangers face, dark eyes peering out from underneath regarding all and taking in all.
Adanedhel rose collected his sword and carried it over to the strangers table on the way motioning to a flustered serving girl to bring two pints over to the table he was headed towards. He sat in the chair opposite the stranger leaning his giant two handed sword against his chair, his blue eyes twinkling as he regarded the cloaked figure. For a while they both sat there in silence staring at each other, neither speaking and neither looking away, locked in a contest of both determination and will as neither would subject to the other and look away. The serving maid came and went both tankards of ale sitting on the table neither combatant touching the amber liquid least they look away.
To any person who happened to look over and see the two cloaked figures on opposite sides of the table staring at each other each with a tankard of ale that neither had touched, one his black cowl down the other with his cowl drawn back to reveal his shaggy black mane of hair and ice blue eyes, a stubbly beard beginning to show as he had not shaved in many days.

After a while Adanedhel smiled and said with a twinkle to his eyes:

‘A fine contest this is indeed stranger but I must say it is thirsty work, lets say we stop and take a drink?’

The stranger did not answer just slid his eyes from Adanedhel’s and picked up his ale downing the glass in one gulp. Adanedhel raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself then he too picked up his ale and drank it, savouring the taste by drinking it slowly wishing not to let the alchohol affect him in any small way.
He still watched the stranger and he took one more sip savouring the liquid in his mouth, swilling it around slightly then swallowed smacking his lips as he finished. He then said to the stranger in a tone of seriousness:

‘What be your name stranger and where would you hail from?’

[Envinyatar]

It was not that he was indifferent to custom only that it was so changeable as it met with time, and oft he could not recall which convention now held the stage. But he stood as Bethberry sat with him, inclining his head toward her in welcome.

‘Some wine?’ he asked, sitting down once again. ‘Or do you prefer something other?’ He reached out with his rowan walking staff and tapped a passing server. ‘Another mug of mulled wine, good sir. This evening finds me chilled to the bone.’ He inclined his head toward Bethberry. ‘And whatever the Lady desires, if you will.’

He opened his cloak, fumbling at the clasp of the leather purse hanging at his belt. ‘About the meal, and the bed for the night. I should pay you now, while I remember that you asked me.’ His fingers fished out a small handful of shiny objects.

A passing look of surprise crossed his face. ‘I find I have no silver coinage to give you.’ He chuckled, his dark eyes meeting hers. ‘But perhaps these will do.’

His thick fingers pushed two small objects over the smooth wooden planks of the table toward her. Charms, their features picked out in the polished metal. A mearh of white gold, Nahar. And a small, finely wrought kestrel in yellow gold, its wings outstretched, hovering in an unseen wind.

[cole]

"Hmmm, you are correct I don't look that much of a friend, more of an enemy." Cole looked a bit at his ale and finished it off, He offered her the small steel canteen again. "Inside is a drink I found on my travels. It is called lun^anu, I think it is elvish. Although I am not extremely sure.
I and my travelling companions split up when we neared here. A few went south, west and north. I stayed here, but that was a few days ago and they should be returning soon."

[Airerûthiel]

OOC: This post is based on the presumption that the character Adanedhel is speaking to my character. If this is not so, this post may be deleted.

~*~*~*~*~

Even Laitalathion was surprised at the length of time that passed between him and this stranger without either of them uttering a word or drinking from their tankard. In a strange manner it was comfortingly companionable. 'But will this person want to associate with me once he knows what I have done to my own brother?' he thought to himself. "I am a honest person above all, and I do not like to harbour secrets about who I am."

"My name is Laitalathion son of Théomer, and I am a Gondorian," he said to this stranger, not wishing to reveal more than was possible. "I am a child of the Elves and of these eastern lands of Men. My family lived in Ithilien until my twin brother and I were but two years old, and then my father was slain by wargs. My mother took her family to the house of her sister near the border with Rohan, and there we lived until she sickened and died of grief. Know you the tale of the massacre of the White Horse?"

The dark-haired stranger nodded, his ice-blue eyes never blinking or focussing on anything other than Laitalathion's face. "I have heard that story spoken long years ago," he said, "but I knew not of what truth lay in it. Am I right in assuming this was the house you lived in as a child?"

Laitalathion said, "You are right. My brother and I ran away to the woodland realm, the home of our mother's people, some years before it happened. But alas! there we were merely tolerated, neither wanted nor rejected, and so after some years we returned to the lands of Men. We tried to go back to Ithilien, our rightful home, but our way was barred by guards of Gondor. They accused my father of treachery against the Lord Denethor and said all of his line were outlaws in that country."

"My brother remained in Rohan - what happened to him after we argued and parted company, I know not." The half-Elf was forced to curb his tongue from revealing the truth of his past deeds, wrestling with his inner sense of truth in order to keep in company with another. "I returned back west to the place they call the Shire, and met by chance with the last survivor of the Rocconinquë. Airerûthiel she now calls herself, after her mother; the true name she was given has left my memory.

"But I see I am boring with you with my tale - besides, I am intrigued to hear about your history, friend. I know that your name is Adanedhel, having overheard the good lady Bethberry call you by that not long before. What brings you to this inn at Edoras?"

[Adanedhel]

Adanedhel nodded understandingly as the story finished but had a feeling that the Gondorian had left something out of his story. Knowing his place Adanedhel said nothing then begun to tell of himself:

‘Aye, my name is Adanedhel and I am intrigued by your story. There are not many Half-Elves that wander these parts’

Laitalathion nodded and said nothing Adanedhel instantly continuing:

‘I am by heritage a man of the Rohirrim though I have not been near Edoras since I was but a small boy, maybe six summers old’

He gulped down the last of his ale wiped his mouth and continued his blue eyes still studying the other intensely

‘I grew up with the Wood Elves of Mirkwood, King Thrainduil took me in as I was orphaned because of a roving band of Orcs attacking my parents as they travelled’

Adanedhel stopped there and wished to go no further, he didn’t tell many of the story of his sword and the Elven magic contained therein or of the skills he had learnt from the Wood Elves. He reached for his ale, realised it was empty instead brought out a block of a red wood and a whittling knife carving slowly taking long strips out of the strangely shaped piece. He looked up from the wood as he got a rhythm going and looked back at Laitalathion

‘I come to Edoras as I have need to visit it once more. I gained messages from Bethberry the fine innkeep here and I came to see her as she is an old friend that I had not seen in many a year’

This was how Adanedhel finished his narrative he didn't talk much as a rule not wanting to give too much of himself away. Looking down momentarily at his knife and wood making sure that everything looked well and that he hadn’t miss carved anything. He looked back up and leaned back again in his chair shavings of the red wood tumbling to the floor......

[ February 08, 2003: Message edited by: Adanedhel ]

[Susan Delgado]

Susan took the flask and shook it a little. About half full. If it truly contained Elvish drink, he must havee had it for quite some while. Elvish...she had been so cut off from her kind for so long..she gingerly took a sip of the flask and stifled a grimace. It was Elvish, all right, but coarse, like something made by Men. She swallowed what she had in her mouth and handed it back with a smile. She glanced around, noticed the armless chair currently sitting empty by the fireplace, and had an idea.

"Tell me, do you know any stories?"

"Stories?"

She indicated the chair. "Yes, stories you can tell the patrons of the Inn. That would certainly break the ice!" She smiled winningly.

[ February 06, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[cole]

"Stories.... I know a few but most are not of ceatures of people of middle-earth. Most of the stories I have heard were passed down from elves and dwarves I have encountered on my journeys. I don't know if anyone would want to hear about 'the fight of the ruling tribes' or 'The warrior awakens' or even 'The taming of the black scales.'"

Cole took a drink of the elvish drink and pulled a face, he then said. "It seems that I've had this too long. It must be going bad or it must have been the way I made it. Susan do you think I should tell any of the stories I have been told?"

Cole took a final sip of his drink.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry raised her hand to the server and with some amusement shook her head. "No mulled wine, thank you."

A cheery grin broke out over her face and her laughter proved lighthearted rather than throaty.

"Our customs here are more plain, perhaps less sauve, than those you may be more familiar with, Master Traveller. Folk here do not stand on ceremony nor observe some of the more intricate rituals of lands more sophisticated than ours. I have come to ask you if you saw any others on the road? Came you from Minas Arnor? The Great West Road? There would be several riders, perhaps leading many horses. We had a theft here recently and those who pursued the thieves have not returned. I have sent my falcon, Wyrd to look for them, but he has not returned yet either."

The traveller shook his head. "No, my lady."

"Ah. I had so been hoping," remarked the Inkeeper with undisguised disappointment. "We are much worried."

He nodded.

Bethberry then looked down at the charms, and turned them over in her small hands.

"These are uncommon and quite lovely. You are sure you wish to part with them? It must then be your custom to barter goods as you travel?

[ February 07, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Kiara]

Parin was really enjoying her chat with Hiri. Though the lady did not think her story of much interest, it had captured Parin's imagination enough to distract her from her all-around stuffiness of head and nose. In fact, it was amazing what a good bit of distraction could do to heal a cold! And as Parin was one of those happy individuals who viewed all of life as one big adventure, she was very receptive of the lady's description of her travels, and eager to share the small details of her own life in return.

"No, you're not being nosy at all! I don't know that you'll find my life much more exciting, but I do think that it's interesting the way life weaves into its fabric, and then unfolds more and more as you watch it...."

The lady nodded at this thought, which encouraged Parin to continue.

*****************************

(OOC: this post under construction!!!!)

[Carrûn]

The door of the Inn creaked open in protest and a shadowed figure glided through with the cold breeze wailing behind it. A dark, weathered man, old to the casual glance but with piercing green eyes that betrayed his youth. His dark brown hair fell loosely around his shoulders which were covered by a billowing cloak which was blackened by wear and tear; all this building an omnious presence around him. No blade was obvious but a glint of steel flashed from various sections of his garmets as he moved.

Avoiding eye contact with the other patrons and ignoring the bar entirely he made his way to a seat close to the fire and as far away as possible from the center of attention. He let out a small groan as numerous joints popped as he streatched his legs. Producing a pipe from within his jerkin he spent some time in frustration before it finally lit. A wisp of smoke curled around his face and raced the flames towards the ceiling.

The man stared at the fire in thought. Even for the well-travelled there were firsts. While his many journies had taken him through the land of Rohan he had never stayed in any establishment there before. His eyes swept across the room, but any of the others who momentairly caught his gaze quickly dropped it. He sighed and allowed himself to sink into a light slumber, the pipe still in the corner of his mouth.

[Adanedhel]

The two men sat in silence still and soon Adanedhel lifted his finished piece to eye level and gazed at it critically. It was a carving of a great eagle going for the kill, it looked very lifelike as though he had caught the essence of the bird in that piece of wood. Large wings outstrected and sharpened talons extended and opened, the beak and eyes seemed to glint slighly as though from the way Adanedhel had carved it was slightly polished.

Adanedhel smiled and placed the great bird on the table looking at it for a second then pulling out a second piece of wood, this time a very dark brown colour and he again began to carve. This time brown shavings tumbling to the floor to mix with the red shavings already there.....

[Susan Delgado]

"Certainly, stories are a wonderful way to break ice with strangers. Should I tell one? Then you can tell one, after you've seen how simple it is." She smiled again and approached the chair near the fire while Cole watched attentively.

She stood near the chair and politely cleared her throat for attention. A few people looked up; more than enough.

"I'll tell you a tale of Far Harad, far distant in Time and Space.

"Long ago, a man lived, a hunter of great prowess and pride. His name was Jongo, and he believed himself to be the greatest hunter ever to roam the plains of Harad. Indeed, his neighbors believed this too and he it was who was always sent out to fetch meat for the larders of Durwenna. He always hunted alone and often stayed for weeks, sometimes months. He had no children and his wife was always able to find a manner of entertaining herself while he was away, so his lifestyle suited everyone and it seemed it would never change.

"On one such trip, when he was stalking the elusive Spotted Deer, he camme across an old man from the distant village of Luriwenna. The old man, whose name has been lost to the passage of time, was one of great reputation, greater even than Jongo's. But the man was dying. Jongo could see it immediately, in the pool of blood on the ground and the way the old man's leg was crushed and ground into the soil.

"'Old Sir, what has happened?' He rushed to the old man's side, but could not heal him. The old man had only moments to impart his final advice.

"'Young Sir, listen to me! I was huntimg the Spotted Deer, as I've hunted them all my life. But, see--' The old man indicated his bow, which was on the ground, cleaved, 'My bow did not fire. It broke usunder instead, and the Deer were startled. I had not time to flee. I have been lying her for many hours; if I had hunted with a partner, I might have lived, but if I had taken the proper care of my tool, my true partner, my bow, I would not have been overcome at all. Always remember, Young Sir, care for your bow as if it were your very life, for as you can see by me, it is!' and with those words the old man spoke no more and in a moment was dead.

"Jongo the Hunter forever after heeded the old man's words and cared for his tools as they deserved and when the time came for him to leave the Circles of the World, it was as an old man in his bed, not lost and alone in the forest, and he taught all the young hunters the old man's wisdom and made certain they heeded it as he did.

"This tale is still told in the Inns and Taverns of Far Harad, and to this day if you go there, you will hear it, the Tale of the Hunter's Bow."

Finishing her story, Susan bowed and returned to the table. She watched Cole, curious to see his reaction.

[cole]

Cole had listened to the whole story. Hardly breathing listening to every word spoken. It was then that you could finally see him do something that never happens, Cole actually smiled. After susan sat down Cole said to her. "That story.... It was great! But now I don't know which of my stories I should tell,
all of them I have heard before and all are magnificent, but I don't know which one I should tell. What do you think susan?"


Cole waited for a bit, drinking a bit more. he then took out a map that was oddly not fully finished. Cole drew a bit on the map and wrote a small note in a book that was with the map. Cole said to susan who seemed to be wondering what he was doing.


"I'm drawing how far me and my comrades have came and drawing what used to be unseen territory to my friends. Just in case me and my comrades have the chance to make it back to my homeland they would want to know about the places we've been to and the things we have seen."

[Bêthberry]

A strange, cold draft circled Bethberry's shoulders despite the heat of the large hearth. She looked away from the traveller towards the door. There, standing alone and with a face of forelorn defeat stood Ælfritha, unmoving. Bethberry excused herself and almost ran to the woman. A few words between them, and they retreated to Bethberry's office.

Awhile later a subdued Innkeeper emerged, spoke with a snarly Fróma, and then searched the meadhall for Culoth.

"Culoth, we might be have a large group of gamers show up and Fróma is in no condition to prepare a large dinner himself. Will you help him? I offer you room and board for today and tomorrow. Do you know of anyone else here who could help?"

"Gladly do I accept the offer. I think Rochelle could help."

"Fine, let's both go talk with her and see if she is interested."

The two approached Rochelle, the Innkeeper introduced Culoth and the offer of room and board in exchange for help in the kitchen, and then waited to see if Rochelle would accept.

[Airerûthiel]

The stranger who had just entered distracted Laitalathion's attention from watching his companion's intricate carvings. She looked tired and dishevelled, as though she had just returned from a long and fruitless journey. He wondered who she was, for she seemed to carry a past that would make for many tales. Her eyes looked haunted, as though she had seen terrible things happen before them and been powerless to prevent those fell deeds.

The half-Elf asked Adanedhel to excuse him for a few moments while he went to get another pitcher of ale for them both. Drawing back his hood to reveal a waterfall of flame-coloured hair and dark blue eyes that seemed almost black, he said, "Another pitcher of ale, if you please."

Suddenly Laitalathion was aware of a white-hot gaze boring into the back of his neck. He turned slowly to see the woman he had invited to drink with him gazing at him from inside Bethberry's office, struck dumb as though he was a ghost from her most terrifying nightmares. "Maikadurion?!" she gasped, and the Gondorian paled instantly. "No, it can't be! You got lost from the main group and weren't seen again...until now." She shook her head. "My mind's playing tricks on me. Just because I lost everything I had in the world doesn't mean I'm going mad too! As sure as my name's Ælfritha, you're a ghost! You can't be real!"

"Cancel my order." Laitalathion's voice was hard and cold, yet retained an air of fear. "I have to step outside for a moment." Not even bothering to meet the woman's eyes, he ran out into the bitterly cold night and flung himself against the wooden walls of the stables, unable to control his tears of anger and hatred at himself for the deeds he had done and would forever be cursed with.

[Envinyatar]

He had closed her hand over the charms saying they were meant for Rohan and her keeping. And when she excused herself to see to some urgent business he stood once again as she left the table. One of the servers passed by, and he asked for a plate of bread and cheese and whatever fruits might be gotten in this season.

As neatly and thoroughly as the birds he followed, he ate the offering laid before him. And with a quiet air, he found another to take him to his small room. Sleep would prove a welcome companion to his tired body.

On the morrow, he would leave before the sun rose and make his way north, passing through Fangorn, then Lothlórien, and up the Anduin to the Old Ford. Then east, and home.

He lay down on the cot, drawing his brown cloak over the blankets for extra warmth. His eyes closed, and dreams came readily. And he smiled, walking once again in the fragrant gardens of Lórien, along the shore of Lake Lorellin.

******************************************

Long before the storm had raced down the mountains from the north and west, the traveler had awoken. Perhaps it was the whisper of the cold wind against the shuttered window, or the plink of the first snow star against the eaves. His grey eyes opened wide, knowing he must leave.

He gathered up his few possessions, the pack, his staff, and belted his thick brown cape round him. Out the kitchen’s door he strode quickly, stopping only to secure the latch. He paused on the path, well away from the door, murmuring a few soft words. The wind picked them up and flung them at the Inn and over it.

Down the dark way to the Onodló under a clouded, starless sky he went. Then, north to shelter beneath the trees of Fangorn. He had business there; he was expected.

[ February 13, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelduliniel looked at Estelarion in surprise as the return of the leader of the company without any members as well.

"Was not Izrênna amongst those that went?" Menelduliniel asked, looking a bit worried. She watched the leader speaking quietly and in a defeated manner to others in the room.

"I...think so," Estelarion said, in a shocked voice.

The two looked at each other in amazement. To think that they had only just seen the girl a little while ago. She had been so small...

They remained quiet for a few minutes, both out of respect for the tiny girl, and out of shock that she would never be seen again.

[Adanedhel]

Adanedhel was surprised as Laitalathion, the stranger he had just met, fled from the room as if in fear of something. Adanedhel frowned and soon found the source of Laitalathion distress, a young woman who was standing in the doorway of Bethberry's office was staring, as if in shock, at the door that lead outside and through which Laitalathion had run.

The Half-Elf rose the frown still firmly set on his face as he strode from the room, slinging his sword across his back as he did so, many patrons looked up as the drama unfolded and were probably wondering what was going on, but as the tall Half-Elf left ducking out in the cold night air they all quickly returned to whatever conversations or activities they were engaged in, no more thought returned to the two men that had just left.

The air had a chill bite to it and Adanedhel had stopped just outside the front door of the Inn, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark as he pulled his cloak about him tightly and stuck his hands underneath his armpits to keep them warm. He stood for a few moments, listening to the night air trying to pick up anything that was out of place something that the Elves of Mirkwood had taught him as a young child and saved his life on more than one occasion. A frigid breeze blew, Adanedhel shivered and heard barely on the end of it a quiet sobbing coming from the rear of the inn.
Straight away Adanedhel strode off, fogetting the cold he jogged around the side of the inn and saw Laitalathion lying on the freezing ground curled up as though dying clutching himself and crying bitterly. Adanedhel walked slowly up to the sobbing Laitalathion bent down and quickly slid his hands under the Half-Elf's armpits and lifted him up standing him on his feet.

'I saw what made you run....What troubles me though is why?

Adanedhel stood ice blue eyes concentrating fully on the man before him.....

[ February 10, 2003: Message edited by: Adanedhel ]

[Airerûthiel]

Laitalathion could not look Adanedhel in the face; he could barely face his inner self. As he looked at his hands, his eyes still saw the scarlet stains spreading from his palms to his fingertips, and he shook as though a localised earthquake had occured just beneath his feet. Swallowing the vile taste of fear that had settled in his mouth once again, his dark blue eyes slowly met the other's icy azure orbs.

"That...that woman," he stuttered, barely able to allow the words to escape from his mouth. "S-she called me b-by my b-brother's name! She thinks I am his ghost. She knows he is dead. But she must never know what I did to him. If she knew my brother, that means they were friends. And that means...if she knew the fell deeds of my past, no doubt she would have me slain." He was choking on his own tears, unable to face his companion.

"What exactly did you do, friend?" asked Adanedhel, still not sure whether to trust this person. "We are both half-Elven, both with Mirkwood in our beings. It seems as though we have been destined to meet one another. I am a traveller like yourself; I will not tell anyone your secret. It clearly troubles you, yet I do understand why you wanted to run. The good lady you seemed so afraid of appears perfectly ordinary."

Laitalathion took a deep breath. "You will surely never wish to see me again should I tell you the truth about my brother and I," he said, his voice filled with hatred and sorrow. "Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. My brother deserves life, and I should be the one who was slain, not him.

"The horse I ride - Formenelen, the North Star - he was a wedding gift from my father to my mother. Some time ago he was stolen from this very stable. Maikadurion, who I learnt had been working at the White Horse, set off after him. Some other horses belong to Ælfritha - the woman you saw in the inn - and various other patrons were also stolen, and my brother was part of a quest to find the stolen steeds.

"They must have been nearing the end of their quest before I next saw him. Hiding behind an assumed name and a Gondorian guard's uniform, I had spent some time working under the Lord Denethor as a member of the military. My party was out patrolling the borderland between Gondor and Rohan when my captain found Maikadurion, who seemed to have lost his way. They recognised him as who he was, and I was forced to slay him.

"It was only after I had struck the fatal blow that I realised who my opponent had been. The rest of my party left the area, while I gave my only family a decent burial and exchanged garments with him. The trek back west was long and hard, but I only survived due to the fact that I was doing this for my brother's sake. I scratched a living by working for various people, and did well in my trade.

"Formenelen returned to me not long ago - he must have escaped his captors and caught my scent at Maikadurion's grave site. To have that horse back did little to soften the blow of my brother's murder, but he is all I have to remember my now slain family by. Since that fateful day I have declared myself an outlaw, never to forgive the heinous crime I committed against my own kin. A killer should not forget his deeds.

"Now are you sure you wish to associate with me any more, knowing that it is because of me that my own brother - he who shares my bloodline, the last of our house - lies dead and alone on some field in the eastern lands? I cannot go back into the inn; I feel I need the time to think. Whether you choose to stay here with me or return back to the inn and forget this conversation is your choice - I care not what you decide."

[Mithadan]

An errand rider entered The White Horse, dusty from the road and weary from hard riding. Nonetheless, he had his responsibilities to discharge ere he could take a seat and refresh himself at the Inn.

He walked slowly to the end of the bar and withdrew a scroll from his pouch. The vellum he unrolled and posted on a board which hung prominently there. The patrons of The White Horse gathered round to read the notice. It read:

"Greetings, denizens of The Shire, Rohan and Gondor. It has now been nearly three months since the Three Realms were established and all storytellers, adventurers and patrons of the Inns are invited to post their comments concerning the governance and efficacy of the Realms. Your comments may be made HERE. Please stop by and tell us what you think and make your suggestions."

[Susan Delgado]

Susan smiled. It seemed Cole was finally coming out of his hiding place.

"I'm not sure, Cole. I don't know what stories you know. Why don't you tell us about yourself? That's always a good way to introduce yourself. It's even how I became a storyteller." She smiled slightly at the memory, then frowned. Whatever had happened to those two Elves she'd spoken to? Were they still in the Seventh Star, in Gondor? She absently turned her head in that direction, as if seeking a scent. The man had been sweetly naive and pleasant to talk to for no other reason than that, but the woman had been so perceptive...moreso than anyone Susan had spoken to in a very long time.

She shook her head and turned back to Cole. He was looking at her curiously and she wondered how long she'd been sitting here staring into space. "Well, how about that story, Cole?"

[Burzdol]

Silently the dwarf paided the driver of the carriage. He walked out the small door into the wailing wind. The sign said it was the right place. He walked up to the door and sat in front of it. He was quite young and was unsure of what was to come inside the inn. He had heard many people came and went, but from his perspective it looked abandoned. Well, better go in. It's getting cold.

Upon opening the door he wasn't greeted, no one looked at his entrance. He walked in a bit. His black cloak covered him completely. As he flipped down his hood he dropped the large double headed axe. Nobody even turned. They kept talking and laughing. I guess everyone keeps to themselves.

As the dwarf sat down at a small table he ordered a large malt beer. Someone brought over his drink and he paid gratefully. The dwarf hadn't had anything to eat or drink for a few days except a little stream water. The dwarf slowly took his last gulp and drifted into a peaceful slumber on the table not to wake for a while.

[ February 16, 2003: Message edited by: Burzdol ]

[Adanedhel]

The cold air bit at Adanedhel's face slowly making him feel numb on his nose and ears, he had watched Laitalathion the whole time he had been telling his tale of shame. Adanedhel could see by the way his face changed and the tone of his voice he felt the most utmost remorse and shame as to what he had done and if he could have changed it he would have.
Adanedhel’s steely gaze softened and he placed a reassuring hand on the Half-Elf’s shoulder and said in soft tones:

‘The fate of some is a sometimes strange and difficult road but I think I would travel it with you maybe part of the way’

Laitalathion seemed to lift his head slightly as though those few words had somehow made it that little bit better. Adanedhel took his hand from Laitalathion’s shoulder and shivered slightly then said with a furtive glance at the first snow flakes that began to fall from the sky.

‘Let us get out of this frigid night air the snow seems to have begun fallling and if my senses prove correct it will continue doing so few a few hours to come’

Laitalathion looked up a slight frown creasing his brow and Adanedhel reassured him:

‘We won’t go back in if it worries you, the stable boy’s room just beside the stables will be good enough so that their no unfriendly ears will hear us’

Adanedhel walked to the end of the stable where a small shack had a beam of light peaking through the curtains drawn across the window and the small crack under the door. He rapped twice in the wooden door and a young boy answered his slender frame wrapped in a cloak far to big for him.
His eyes were suspicous as he asked:

‘What would you like sir?’

Adanedhel smiled warmly and replied:

‘Just a loan of your quarters son’

The young boy was still suspicous until Adanedhel drew a small leather bag of coins that jingled sharply in the night air. The boy’s eyes lit up and he reached for the bag, eyes transfixed on the money bag.

‘Anything else sir?’

The suspicous tone totally absent from his voice now and Adanedhel’s grin widened:

‘Just a pitcher of ale if you please’

The boy bowed quickly and sprinted off towards the rear door of the inn the door opening and closing quickly as he didn’t slow through the door then as the two Half-Elves entered the small shack they heard the crash of plates and the yells of surprise and anger.
Adanedhel laughed and even Laitalathion couldn’t help but smile then the two sat at the plain table in the middle of the room, to one wall a bed and to the left a small fireplace, a merry little blaze crackling away.

‘Does this suit you better?’

Adanedhel smiled and produced a worn leather case, out of which he pulled a deck of cards. He smiled wickedly and said with an inccocent tone:

‘Do you play cards by any chance?’

[ February 12, 2003: Message edited by: Adanedhel ]

[cole]

"A story, about myself?" Cole says then thinks for a bit. "Ok I'll tell one, but I doubt anyone will listen."


"I'm not going too far back mind you, just how I got into these lands. It started a few months ago when me and my companions had heard alot of middle-earth and wanted to see the places there for ourselves. Not a single person we knew of ever came to middle earth. So me and my companions decided to go on ship to middle-earth and do some exploring. After a while of exploring we came to a place called the Shire." Cole shook his head a bit and continued.


"We didn't stay there long, and were soon back on our way. A few of our companions continued towards a place some called rivendell. The rest including me continued south. and soon after continued to here."

Cole was finished, or was he? He went back to his previous seat with susan and whispered to her. "I didn't tell all of what happened, It's for the best."

[tangerine]

The door to the hall creaked as a young bard, small and thin stepped inside. The hood of her ash-grey cloak was pulled down far over her eyes, and shadow hid her face from the few who turned to see who entered now, turning away to chuckle into their mead to see this little person who seemed to be traveling alone.
Ignoring them, she walked over to an empty table, exhausted. She had walked for days to get here, resting or eating for a few hours at a time, with long periods in between. The Road might be great and long, but it was by no means a place where she could drop her guard when travelling alone. Stretching her head to the side, she winced slightly as the muscles in her neck cramped up once again.
She placed her meager-looking pack-sack on the table before her carefully. Everything she had in the world was in there, including her little wodden harp, most precious of her possesions. She would not play tonight, most likely; Her throat felt cracked and dry, and her fingers were stiff and sore; the price she had paid for sleeping in a tree the night before.
The sack was open slightly; a silver rod, burnt at on end, rolled out. She caught it before it could roll on to the floor, and looked at it for a moment, as if recalling a fond memory. She placed it back in the sack, opening it up enough for the base of her harp to stick out. Carved in block letters on the bottom of the harp was "HINURA".
She swallowed, rembering her thirst, and signalled for a drink.

[Bêthberry]

Even the charms in her pocket seemed cold, as she held them and rubbed them between her fingers. The bird and the horse. Bethberry wondered if the old wizard recognized she would be unable to part with them, drawn to the art of their composition. She chuckled to herself and wondered if he would head on after the storm let up.

Even the shutters shuddered as the winds blew and the story banners in the rafters flailed at times when the gusts grew great enough. Snow piled high against the outside walls of The Horse, almost to window height. It had been difficult for the staff to wade through the snow to close the shutters, protecting the windows and the halls from the worst of the violent storm.

Even the roads in Edoras were impassable, let alone the roads either south or north or east. In storms like this, the prominence of Edoras at the mountain's edge was its weakness, for it was enveloped in whiteouts, giant drifts, ferociously cold winds. Frozen, time stilled almost.

No one would go anywhere. All were captive in the Inn.

"Well," thought Bethberry, "perhaps we will talk about our tales a bit, instead of living them." She proceeded to write out an announcement on the large notice board.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We have had a great deal of fun developing characters here at the Inn; you have done a great job exploring their lives. Yet these lives have not led many gamers to develop plots and stories. We have not moved on from character to plot. Perhaps it is time now to talk more about plot and story than character.

To that end, I would like to invite patrons of The White Horse to talk about their experience with games. I have invited Aman, Aylwen, and Susan to come here and explain how they came up with their ideas for games, what it was like developing their ideas, and how well they think the proposal system aided their interests in gaming. (They can come in the character of their games, or as their nick personalities, as they prefer. )

I also welcome other gamers to talk about why they like to game, what they look for in a game, how they choose which games to join, where they get their ideas for their characters.

The Blue Mountain gamers will also be coming here to discuss their plans for their new game now that Blue Mountain has concluded. It might be interesting to see how they work it out. I'm looking forward to it. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

Gamers of Rohan, this is your chance to talk about why you RPG and to share sources for where you find your ideas.

This does not mean that we can't game in character here. Indeed, we will shortly be seeing some subplots developing out of the Inn. But it does mean that the Inn will also become a place where Rohan gamers can talk about their games.

Please feel free to contribute, at any level or topic. This is your chance to let me know how I can help you game at Rohan.

Bethberry

[ February 13, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Lugbúrz]

As I've come to realise, in this short span of time that I've been writing interactively, role-playing is all about writing creatively.

In a nutshell, this is how I would describe interactive role-play stories: It is the art of telling character with tale, and of telling tale with character; all puns included. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

I'll drop by later to see what everyone has to say, and maybe add on a little of my own perspective.

[Adanedhel]

I, like Lugbúrz, in the short amount of time that I have been role playing (A year and a half) I have come to realise Role Playing for what it really is, creative writing.
Though role playing is a lot more easier to understand and to keep track of, you are only looking after one character per role play at anyone time (sometimes two, though it is rare). Writing in a role play, though, requires of you to employ skills in writing otherwise not used, skills like interaction between other characters of whom you nearly know nothing about and drawing other people into the story, a skill of which very few possess and use well. I have been in many role plays on other message boards and only one here of which I played a minor role, I have always look for one thing that makes me want to join a role play.

An original and exciting idea.

Though there are many that have been done before and more still that are not very exciting or interesting which dooms their failure and demise to slowly become deserted by the gamers. Without an interesting idea and plot then the role play would not function well and would fade into nothingness, the more involved the players can get into the game and the amount the the players can develop their characters and the relationship between the characters the better. One role play that I think embodies this is one that I have been involved in ever since I first started role playing. It was the first role play I was ever involved in and it is still going to this day. Though some people have had to leave their places have been taken by others, though these holes cannot be filled just like life the characters have come and gone with the exception of two. Myself and one other.
The other thing I look for is a good Thread Master, without one of these then the role play will be a shambles, people won’t have a direction or sense of purpose. The RP of which I spoke of above has had the Thread Master leave but replaced by one that has been involved in the RP since the start and so the RP has continued........As Bethberry would know well [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

If it wasn’t for reading the Hobbit all those years ago I would never had started writing and never have found the wonders of Role playing with people who have such skill with words. Role playing, in my humble opinion, is like music for the eyes, bringing images through words instead of the notes of an instrument, and emotions through their form, be it joy, sadness, anger, despair or hope. All of these things writing can give you but only if it is used properly, and only through practice and by watching and learning from others.

Writing is a very powerful thing and one of the many instruments through which to channel imagination and creativeness, but it not always works and is hard to master.......

[Airerûthiel]

The thing that appeals to me about role playing is how like creative writing it is, except that you have no idea where your story will go because it lies in the hands of every gamer as opposed to just your own. This often makes for a tale littered with twists and turns, which keep me (speaking as both a reader and a writer here) wanting to know what happens next and may possibly give me an idea for my next post in that game.

When I think about joining a game I look for ideas that are a little different from the norm - while I'm not denying adventures don't appeal to me (indeed they do, all the games I have played in except the inns were/are adventur games), I like those that are a bit different and more challenging. This, I believe, enables the potential RPGer to push themselves further and strive to improve their writing in order to meet the standards of a particular game.

I haven't actually 'chosen' to join any games whilst I've been an active Barrow-Downs member (which is only since around Christmas), having been invited every time. Usually I start off in the inns and then see where my character goes from there - for instance, if a game comes up and my character has not been particularly active for some while, I will volunteer if the game appeals to me.

My characters generally start off with the names of friends/families/celebrities going into a name generator and then taking whatever I get as a starting point. I usually try to give my characters unusual features to make them seem a little bit different and 'off-the-beaten-track' as it were. Some of the appearances and personalities are based on people I know - for instance, Maikadurion from 'Ride' is largely taken from my tomboyish best friend. Another thing I like to do is to link my characters' backstories, such as them being related to or good friends with another character, in order to give them more 'bulk'.

[Ithaeliel]

Greetings all,

If you don't know me already, I'm Ithaeliel, one of the players in The Blue Mountains RPG. As Miss Bethberry has said, we'll all be coming here soon to discuss a new RPG. We (we meaning Brinniel, Mattius, Auriel Haevasawen and myself)have decided to keep it open; anyone who wants to join can, if the character is appropriate to the plot that is developed. I don't want to represent everyone so much, though; I just wanted to make that statement.

I have something to say for roleplaying: it's a wonderful world. It helps you effectively exercise your creativity, at the same time improving your writing skills and boosting your ability to work with a team. Due to this combination, you know when to say what, and then what to say. You learn to develop ideas on the spur of the moment, basing it off of something that you did not plan. It's great for having to write off of a prompt, as well as other things. I'll elaborate further when I have the time.

Thank you,
Ithaeliel

[Amanaduial the archer]

Amanaduial looked up from her corner where she had been quietly sitting with her wolves as she heard the sound of chalk on a board. Her green eyes met those of the mysterious innkeeper Bethberry, although the other would probably say the same of her.

"A snowstorm?" She questioned, not being able to see the noticeboard, but easily able to see the snow gathered at the windows and doors. Bethberry smiled and nodded. "What apt timing." Aman said more softly to herself. She sighed and stood from the comfortable fireside chair, to give her part.

****

Greetings all,

I was invited by Bethberry to give my views here, and I think Ill give them as myself, rather than as my character. I will be more careful here when I express comments, to avoid something like the A Measure Of Success board! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

As a few of you may have noticed, I am an addict. I have a terrible and incurable addiction to RPGing, and I therefore tend to play quite a few more at a time than I probably should. I love RPGing; its a total escape from my life, especially as I no one here outside cyberspace. I like writing, and looking at different styles of writing by so many people, all so different, is a great experience and one that I try to help improve my writing with. The experience of playing with other people rather than writing alone is one that I always enjoy, and the discussion threads are as much of a reason that I play as the actual RPs! I am currently forcing myself not to join anymore games, as nine is enough for anyone, not until I finish a few of the nine.

I have never left a game without actually killing off my character or making them leave the game with a reason, as that annoys me sooo much. When I choose games, I look at the other writers involved, and usually look on the search to see what other games they have been in, and what their writing is like; I also do this when I have started a game, or am running it, and someone asks whether they can join. When games are coming to their end, I dont usually feel sad, instead rather satisfied, if the game has been played well, and the discussion has been well conducted and friendly.

In my newest game, I am continuing wtth a character I have already used, something I havent done before, simply making him a few years older; I haven done this before, but its working quite well, and allows me to work with him further, even using memories from the game he was in before, working with another of the players who was also in that game.

This RP section is the best and widest ranging RP section I have ever been priveliged to see. Some of the games on here honestly deserve to be published, but the feeling in the discussion threads is one I value as much as the games.

There. Im not all that sure how much sense that all makes. Sorry to be so longwinded. Im feeling a little bashful because I havent visited to Horse in so long. *smacks hand.* Must remember to in the future, especially with the subplots bethberry mentioned coming up.

-Amanaduial