Dark Seduction Discussion Thread

[piosenniel]

~*~ Durelin invites you to play ~*~

Title: Dark Seduction

Basic Storyline:

The Haradrim have long worshipped the Dark Lord, and now, in the 3008 year of the Third Age, their "god" is in need of followers. The War of the Ring has begun. The Dark Citadel, the central focus of the Dark Religion (as it is known) has decided that they must aid "the all-powerful". The dark priestess, Sevora the Red Flame, and two of the dark priests have been chosen to travel through the harsh desert lands of the Haradwaith into the deep south. There, nomadic tribes of men inhabit the desolate land.

But the tribesmen are a stubborn race of barbarians. Resistance is to be expected. And the desert lands are a dangerous land, the "holy ones" will need an escort. A notice has been sent around the city of Umbar; it is full of warriors. But who wishes to travel into the desert to face the wrath of the nomads? Seven warriors of the Haradrim are willing to serve The Eye in this way.

The purpose of the story is to: Reach the camp of a large nomadic tribe of men in the outlands, and seduce converts to the Dark Religion. Some of the tribesmen (mainly the younger ones) will turn to The Eye, while others will refuse. The tribe will split, and the priestess, priests, Haradrim warriors, and converts must eradicate the majority of the tribe that resists the temptation of the Dark Religion. After all are dead or fleeing in terror, the converts will be led back to Umbar, and those involved will be greatly honored and awarded.
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This means we will know the story is over when:

The resisting tribesmen have been eradicated or have fled.

Starting Location: The Dark Citadel in the City of Umbar

Likely destination: The camp of a nomadic desert tribe in the outlands, south of Harad.

Timeframes:

i) This game takes place in the Third Age at around year 3008.

ii) The storyline itself or plot covers fifteen days. Six days to reach the camp, a week of preaching, two days of battle.

iii) This game requires a time commitment of 10 weeks from me, the game owner and from the major players.

[piosenniel]

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

Characters needed:

7 Haradrim warriors

2 Haradrim priests of the Dark Religion

3 tribesmen converts

3 tribesmen resisters

Character types which would not belong: Any character types besides Haradrim warriors or priests and nomadic desert tribesmen.

* * * FIRST POSTS MUST BE SUBMITTED WITH YOUR CHARACTER DESCRIPTION. * * *

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

[piosenniel]

Durelin's character:

Name: Priestess name: Sevora, The Red Flame
Birth name: Layla-Abida (Night Worshipper)

Age: 27

Description: Born a Haradrim, Sevora is a priestess of the Dark Religion. She lives in the Dark Citadel and is the Priestess of the Sacrifice. She sacrifices people to their "god" daily. Blood - thirsty and cruel, Sevora is the perfect example of one of The Priesthood of The Eye. She wears the traditional robes of dried blood and pitch-black colors swirled together and the headband of thorns with bloodied tips. She is a loyal and valuable servant of the Dark Lord and is eternally anxious to kill those who stand against her lord.

Background: Layla-Abida was born in the city of Umbar. When she was just four years old, both her parents were killed in a raid. The priesthood took her to live in the Dark Citadel, who trained her as a priestess, giving her the name, Sevora – the Red Flame. Since she was influenced by the darkness of the place and the priests almost her entire life, she has become one of the greatest members of the priesthood. The deepness of her tie to the Dark Religion is frightening even to some of the other priests and priestesses in the Dark Citadel.

First Post:

The Priestess, Sevora, walked swiftly through the dimly lit corridor. She wore long robes of a sickly dark red, the color of dried blood, and of a black as in the deep dark of an endless abyss. They swayed without a sound. Around her head was a band made of a black wiry metal made to look like a strip of thorns. The tips of the spikes were the same blood red as her robes. At the end of the dark hallway was a large door of black iron leading into what was known as The Hall of the Black Sage. The corridor was meant to represent the long dark path of a life of a priest or priestess of the Dark Religion. At the end stood the gate to "wisdom". The door reminded them of the reward, for reward they saw it as. A sick, twisted state of mind where good and evil stood not. There stood only power, in their eyes, but blood and dark to the eyes of the sane. Their "wisdom" results in an everlasting death. Those large black iron doors did lead to that "wisdom," or the greatest example of the grotesque state of mind: the High Priest of the Dark Citadel.

Sevora reached the "gateway" and heaved the doors open, sending a loud, vibrating clang of iron striking iron around the hall, as they hit the black walls of The Hall of the Black Sage. At the harsh sound, the priestess smirked, a small curl of her lip. Her presence deserved to be announced, in one way or another. She stepped up to a small set of stairs leading up to a miniature stage covered by a putrid off-white color curtain, much like the pale skin of a corpse. On either side were large black chairs with the same thorny effect as Sevora’s headband, also with the bloodied tips. In them sat two old men of the Haradrim in robes the same color as the curtain. They were the councilors of the High Priest.

"Ah," came an oily voice from behind the curtain, "Sevora, one of the most beloved of The Priesthood of the Eye. I am glad you have answered my calling so promptly. I have important work for you." The voice had an uncanny hiss to it, behind all of the oil. It had the habit of making the listener feel that he or she is covered in muck, a nastiness that they needed to wipe off. But the priestess had heard this voice all too often. She was a loyal and valuable servant to her Lord of Darkness, her "God". Her reckless and blood - thirsty nature had brought her high in the order of the Eye, and she was overwhelmingly proud of that. No, yet again, she was called to serve the Eye, for she was eternally anxious to.

"Thank you, O Wisest one to the Eye," Sevora began a cold voice that seemed on the verge of screaming in rage, and bowing low to the ground, "for counting me, as a lowly servant, worthy of being in your presence. And furthermore, in giving me the privilege to serve our Dark Lord in a stronger way than my daily worships. I will not fail the Eye or the Priesthood. Death first, shall I taste." That was one of the greatest teachings of the twisted priests, "Coldness of death before burning shame of failure." Sevora had always had a way with words, buttering up those fat with groveling servants and riches. How else would she have gotten this far? The High Priest had because of his blood. He was a Dark Numenorean, one of the ruling class of Harad.

"I know of your unceasing loyalty, that is why I have chosen you for this," the oily voice hissed. But now the source of it was revealed. The pale curtain lifted to show a man with skin as pale as the curtain, if not paler. The skin on his face was tightly fitted over his bones, so that his bald resembled a skull. He was dressed in robes of black with a large collar ticking up behind his skull-like head. The collar also followed the thorny style, with large spikes rising above the "skull," tips of a bloody red. The red opal on the man's forehead completed the grotesque appearance with its innumerable shades of color swirling about like fire. This was the High Priest of the Dark Citadel. The "wisest" and most powerful of The Priesthood of the Eye.

"As you are well aware," the High Priest continued, "The War is beginning that we have long awaited, greatly desired," his eyes flashed with a lust for the war that would bring him so much power. "The Eye needs followers to fulfill his destiny to rule all. There are nomadic tribes in the outlands, ones your people, the Haradrim have long met to trade with. Now we will bring them the one true faith. They will serve for our purposes, but…" he paused for a moment with hungry eyes staring at something in his own mind, as if he were looking upon his next words. "But, you will meet some resistance, of that I am sure. The tribesmen are a stubborn race of barbarians, though most can be seduced. Of course, as our Priestess of the Sacrifice…you should manage admirably." The High Priest stopped and looked at Layla-Abida. Her eyes were filled with excitement. He smiled, a small cruel smile, at her hunger to deal out death. She returned his smile with one of immense cruelty and lust for bloodshed.

"You will need an escort," the "wisest" went on, bringing the priestess back to the present. "I have already sent a notice around the city. We cannot spare any of our guards here." He frowned at this, and his skin stretched downward making his eyes seem to bug out of his head. "You should also chose two of our priests to accompany you. Make sure they are of the understanding, and, hopefully, are of the warriors." The High Priest's eyes moved to Sevora once again, this time with a commanding look, as she replied coldly, "Yes, O Wisest of the Dark."

"Good," he said firmly, "You are dismissed, you must begin preparations at once."


"Yes, O Greatest Servant to the Eye," she answered with a different praising title for the High Priest. She bowed low, then turned sharply and walked swiftly and silently out of the great hall, back into the dim corridor. At last! she thought, I will get to ardently serve The Eye. I will bring Him men to serve Him, and slaughter those who refuse the Dark Lord. It will feel good to take blood from filthy infidels once again! Gliding down the dark hallway The Red Flame giggled like a little girl at the thought.

[piosenniel]

Please note:

This is a complex RPG that requires a lot of thought. The point of it is to try being 'bad' for once. The characters of this RPG must be evil or savage. And when I say evil I mean evil! ~~ Durelin

[piosenniel]

It is a requirement that all potential game players will either have posted in one of the RPG Inns (preferably in The Green Dragon) or have played in an RPG on the Barrow Downs.
Those who have not played before in a Barrow Downs' RPG will be given preference. Final preference, though, will be at the discretion of the Game Owner.

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

Character Description Form:

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

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

For your character please include:

NAME:

AGE:

RACE:

GENDER:

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

APPEARANCE:

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

HISTORY:

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A FIRST POST FOR YOUR CHARACTER MUST ACCOMPANY THIS FORM.

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

[piosenniel]

This thread is now open.

Please read the storyline and instructions carefully. Create an interesting character and craft a first post and submit them for consideration.

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

A FIRST POST FOR YOUR CHARACTER MUST ACCOMPANY THIS FORM.

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

Have fun being evil!

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Arien]

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

Which one? The Road to Erebor, The Quest for the Ainereg, Escape from Nurn, Truth in a Dark Place, Sailing Away.

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

Which one? The Green Dragon Inn

Character description

NAME: Dristi, The Shadow - Priestess

AGE: 26

RACE: Man

GENDER: Female

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.): Dristi carries two elongated curved knives, which are hidden beneath her robes. They both have black handles with a red ruby eye set in each. She uses them well and is renowned in the priesthood for her knife skills. She moves quickly and is expert at concealing her self from others.

APPEARANCE: She is 5ft 6 tall, with a curved and slender body. Her eyes are such a dark brown they almost seem black as the night, and they are big and entrancing. Her hair is black and flows straight down her back until it reaches her hips. Her skin is tanned from the sun, and though she is beautiful, people fear her. She too wear the traditional robes of dried crimson blood and pitch-black colours swirled together and a headband of thorns with bloodied tips.


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): Dristi loves to fight, and toy with weaker people. She is the Priestess of Shadow and War. She got the name for her excellent combat skills (at least for a woman) and her many stratigical parts in the wars against the men of Gondor. She mainly prays for the victory and teaches others of the priesthood her skills. Her main weakness is jealousy. She envies anyone who is better than her and in some cases she has been known to kill them. She gets on a high from killing and is though she needs to do it to survive. She is smart and quick and a valued member of the priesthood.


HISTORY: Dristi was born in a large vilage in Far Harad. At the age of 5 she went missing and her parents were distraught. She had been abducted by members of the priesthood of her village who saw in her a great will to fight when she was young. She was taken to the citadel and locked up until she was 14, while here she learnt her knife skills and other valuble methods of fighting. When she reached the age of 15 she joined the priesthood and started as a lowly slave. She hated it and so ran away to fight and help stratigise with the soldiers in the wars. At the age of 22 she returned, stronger, smarter and more skilled. The priesthood, though reluctant to take her back for her disobedience, realised that she was a essential person and allowed her to come back as The Shadow, head of War, fighting and the shadow cast over the enemies lands when their army touched it. Now she teaches others her skills and kills those who fail her tests of endurance. She prays to the Dark Lord for victory, and knows failure in not an option.

First post:

Dristi walked in to the dimly lit square room. The far right side was raised, with crimson and black fabrics strewn around the higher level. There was a step covered in candles and then the floor which was painted blood red. The ceiling was high, and it was so dark it seemed as though it extended on into eternity. The walls were pitch black but had various weapons across them. Her figure slowly walked to the higher level, the smell and the smoke of incense whirled around her shrouded form. Dristi took her place on her cushions and then clicked her fingers.

“You may enter,” she said slyly. Five frightened priests entered the room, all in traditional dress. “You know why you are here do you not?” she did not wait for an answer although a few of them nodded, “ You are here to fight, each other. One of you will survive,” she smiled, “.. just one. You are being punished, rather than being sacrificed you will die failing. But I think it is quite fun. Welcome to the Sanctuary of Death, one but all of you will die on the Floor of Bloodshed and they will be forgiven for their crime.”

She looked at each of the priests, they looked absolutely distressed with the thought of killing their associates. “It is the only way you will learn!” she shouted at them, her voice echoed through the sanctuary. Then all was still.

“This is stupid…” whispered one of the priests.

Dristi had heard, her head lolled to the side and she gracefully got up. Slowly she walked down to the floor and up to the priest who had said it.

“Ohh, we have a smart one?” she said cynically looking the man in the eyes. Slowly she lifted her robe and took out one of her knives. She brushed it across the priests face then rocked it back and forth across his head, “Whished you hadn’t said it now, don’t you?” she put her hands on the mans shoulders and whispered into his ear. “I wont kill you, I like you. A lot.” the man smiled but he should have known better than to trust her, “I tell you what, I will kill the rest and then we can…” she wrapped her hands around him and then withdrew away and kissed him on the lips. She turned her back and the man was smiling intently, but the rest of the priests looked horrified. This man did not know what he had coming for him.

“Thank you,” he said trying to catch his breath which was now short and shallow from facing near death.

She turned round, the other priests stood awkwardly watching the spectacle. She came up close to him, kissed him once more. She clenched her knife in her fist, drove it deep into his heart. She released the knife from her grasp, he fell backwards and as he lay on the floor blood poured out from his mouth and the wound. “Opps, my hand slipped!” she said to the other shrugging her shoulder, “And he was so looking forward to it!” she took her soaked dagger from the now dead man and went back to her level, she cleaned it, then Dristi stared at the slaves “Take it away! You get to survive, count yourselves lucky!”

They left and she was alone by herself. She smiled and closed her eyes. For a while she stayed and prayed to the Eye.

"Oh Dark Lord, give me the strength to kill for you, to hate for you, to punish for you, to meet all of your deeds without faliure. My heart, my soul is always eternally yours...forever"


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I hope that is ok......

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

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[ May 24, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[Lyra Greenleaf]

Durelin, I know how you feel about female warriors, so if this is no good I'll do a male.
**********************
Character Description Form:
Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Which one? Quest for the Ainereg, Search for the Lost Messenger, Holiday in the Sun, Reclaiming the City, Swan Wood, the Threat of the Trees

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES– Which one? The Green Dragon
For your character please include:
NAME: Essenia Dagon

AGE: 24

RACE: Haradrim

GENDER: Female
WEAPONS: Bow, short knives
APPEARANCE: Short, sun-dark, shoulder length black hair tied back with a leather band, a scowl is a permanent feature on her face, large dark eyes that might give the impression of weakness if it wasn’t for their hard set. However she has been used before as a sort of “honey trap” to find a chance to administer poison to guards, though she hates that she will do it for Umbar

HISTORY: At the age of 16 her parents (who were relatively well off) forced her into marriage. Four years later she left her two children to become a Corsair. She does not use her real name. Although she loves the excitement and the chance to fight for Umbar (which she has been passionately supportive of since childhood), she suffers from quite bad sea sickness. She relishes the chance to work on land.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Essenia suppresses her emotions, which she see as being pointless. The only things which are not pointless are fighting (which she loves) and Umbar (which she will serve to death). She sees killing as a record of how hard you have tried to serve your country, and can reel off how many she has killed, when and where. Pain is something to accept, it has little effect on her life. She is reckless and does not fear for her life- her worst nightmare would be to become wounded so she would not fight again, or recognised by a friend of her parents or husband. In either case she would kill herself, she accepts this. Essenia also has great belief in fate, that what is meant to happen will happen and humans can’t stop it. For this reason she knows that Umbar will get the glory it deserves. She supports the Eye because Umbar does, and because it is the best way to get glory for her country. She frowns on friendship, seeing it as a distraction. She believes that anyone who is not from Umbar is worse than useless, and should be wiped out whether they profess to support the Eye or not. Her fighting skills are above average (for a woman, that’s necessary). Her strengths would be single mindedness, loyalty and lack of fear. Her weaknesses would be cold-bloodedness and lack of personality.


First Post:
Essenia scowled as she walked through the town, dark eyes showing only suppressed anger. So far that morning she had had to draw her knife on three Corsairs who could only think of one reason why a pretty young woman would be walking where she was. One of them had lost his left hand. She sighed; it was a shame when that sort of thing happened to men that were fighting for Umbar. She never had any regrets harming anyone else. If they were not from Umber then what was the point of them existing? Soon, she hoped, she would again have the chance to fight for her country.

Ahead Essenia saw a man with a well made cloak of expensive material. Something of the way he walked reminded her of her odious husband. Her heart began to beat faster, but she refused to put up her cowl. If Taine was meant to find her, he would. And she had her daggers, seven in various spots, with which she could take her life. Surprisingly she had no desire to kill Taine. Perhaps it was the only consideration she showed to her children, not to take away both of their parents. With little emotion she watched the man turned to take a side road. Essenia let out a breath she had not realised she had been holding. The bearded man was certainly not Taine, and not one of his friends either. In fact, though, that was another reason to leave the town. Fate would catch her, if it wanted, but there was no harm reducing the likelihood. On a ship or in a raiding party there would never be any chance of meeting Taine. Essenia nearly smiled at the thought of her husband getting his hands dirty with any sort of work, let alone fighting. The fool man could barely kill a spider. Her gaze darkened. Not even for the sake of Umbar. People like him were almost as pointless as outlanders.

“-for the glory of the Eye and the progression of Umbar. Fight the barbarians and turn them to the true path-“
The voice cut through Essenia’s thoughts. Glancing up she saw a man from one of the temples to the Eye, the usual fevered light burning in his own eyes. She was irritated by these men, who had chosen another’s glory over that of Umbar. They could very well talk about the progression of Umbar, but it came second to their Eye. She followed the Eye as well as any other in Umbar, it was a habit she had grown up with, but only so far as it benefited her land. Still, she pushed herself to the front of the small crowd.
“-guard the Priestess and help her in her mission. Conquer the lands of the Heathen and gain their support or provide their destruction. The Glory of the Dark Citadel to all who follow us. Make yourself known to the guards there. Glory to the Eye”
Essenia contemplated what the man had said. In truth she had heard only half of his announcement, but she felt the familiar excitement. New lands for Umbar, new glory for the Corsairs. Personal glory meant little to her, especially as she had to remain hidden. It rankled that she would, in fact, be serving the Dark Religion first and foremost, but the benefits for Umbar… Then she realised. No ships. No having to hide the nausea each time they bounced over a swell- the only remaining sign of her cosseted early life. For the second time in less than half an hour Essenia almost smiled.

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Hey Durelin! Pio, Durelin and I have already discussed my character, and invited me to join in on Dark Seduction.

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? –Yes, Several. An Audience With the King, Castle Maladil, Kidnapped!, Betrayal of Trust, Search for the Book, Search for the Lost Messenger, Escape from Nurn, Swan Wood, Threat of the Trees, In War, Brotherhood.

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – Yes, The White Horse on a few occasions.


NAME: Jasara

AGE: 19 or 20

RACE: Tribesman (convert)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Jasara, as one of the leader’s daughter, learned from the most ruthless of their warriors how to use the ever-popular broadsword. She is moderately skilled with it, but because most of her power is with her persuasive talking and wit, she prefers those weapons.

APPEARANCE: Jasara stands just over 5’4”, with dark brown eyes and even darker tan-brown skin. Her silky black hair falls in awkward clumps of frizzy curls, which are often tied back in attempts to keep the tresses out of Jasara’s face. She’ll usually be found wearing dirt-stained breeches and comfortable tunics. The hot grasslands of the southlands bid Jasara wear the pair of boots she stole from one of the warriors of the tribe.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Jasara is stubborn and cold, and distrustful to all but a few of her fellow young. She can be arrogant and rude, but is ultimately strong for the sake of the people she represents. Never revealing her weaknesses for others to manipulate, Jasara never portrays a weakling in front of others. Tough is an understatement if used to describe Jasara. She understands the ways of the elders, and is intelligent and patient when she needs to be. Jasara receives snippets of visions and hears a voice inside her mind (belonging to the Eye, but Jasara does not know that). The voice and visions are ever haunting her.

HISTORY: Jasara was born to one of the leaders of the barbaric southrons. She and her father rarely agreed on anything, least of all the way the nomads traveled and lived. When she was twelve she predicted when the next rain would come, and no one believed her. The rain did fall as foretold, and though the elders dismissed the “coincidence”, the younger people of the tribe began to fear and admire Jasara. The tribe eventually became split in a way, when the younger ones revolted against the elders. They unanimously voted Jasara their leader, for they considered her the strongest and wisest. Even though the Nomads continued traveling from place to place as one group, the silent rebellion of young against old continued on, however secretly.

First Post:

“It hasn’t rained in four months,” Jasara’s grandmother spoke, from behind the tent’s curtain. A young Jasara lay scrunched up, under warm sheets that protected her from the night’s deathly chill. The memory was so real; Jasara felt she could almost touch the silky curtain that separated the areas of the tent.

“It will rain in two days. It will flood, or almost,” little Jasara whispered, repeating what something inside the girl had told her. Quick as lightning the curtain flew back, and her father’s worry-wrinkled face was visible.

“What did you say?” Her father grumbled, and the younger Jasara repeated the prediction. Her father dismissed the crazy ramblings of his tiny daughter, and returned to his meeting with the most important leaders of their large nomadic tribe.

Suddenly, Jasara woke from her dream, sweating. The sky was above her, and in the sleep-bag next to hers belonged to her ‘second-in-command’. All around her laying strewn about the short grasslands were the younger members of the nomadic tribe. They had long ago refused to use tents, justifying that they would rather ‘be eaten by the hungry beasts of the Eye than sleep in the way of the elders’.

Jasara remembered the outcome of her memory. The children of the tribe praised her and worshipped her like she was some deity when the rain came two days later. The leaders of the tribe dismissed the prophecy as though Jasara had never spoken up that night. Jasara would not forget that time; the time she had first seen the Eye in her dreams. It had a voice, this lidless eye did, and it haunted her. Whispering to Jasara in her dreams, it would tell her things…things that Jasara would not know any other way. Jasara told no one what haunted her so many nights and days.

The tribe was split in two. The children and the young adults of the wandering barbarians rarely listened to the pride-stricken elders. It had brought fury to the minds of the younger generation that the wisest of their kin would not believe a vision when it hit them in the face. They all thought it was because they were the young, the hopeless, and the stupid. All the young despised the elders, who believed that the young were so stupid that they’d need to be protected forever.

Jasara had become the appointed leader of the Young, and they worshipped Jasara and her ideas…or at least the ideas she conveyed. The girl had become their leader. Jasara did not return to sleep, and sat to watch the sun rise.

“Something wrong, Jasara? We can sleep for almost an hour still,” A boy nearby spoke raptly, and rolled over in his sleep-bag.

“Nothing is wrong. I just can’t sleep.” Jasara got up from under her blankets and pulled on the boots she had stolen from one of the old warriors, who had died shortly after the theft. Jasara rolled up her sleep-pack, and carried it with her as she walked towards the nearby creek. The short, dry grass crunched under her feet as she neared the creek.

Another day begins, I see. A hoarse, deathly whisper sounded in Jasara’s mind. Jasara nodded grimly, and went on to wash her face in the cool, clear stream.


-Aylwen, who has gotten back into the habit of using J names. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Durelin]

First, thankyou to all those who have joined, second, there are a few things I'd like to inform you of before I talk about your characters...don't worry, nothing real bad! [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

Okay, me and Aylwen got into talking about this RPG at one point and she came up with something to smooth out the conflict with the tribesmen. You kinda wonder how exactly the tribe will split, so Aylwen suggested that the 'younglings' have already rebelled a bit against the elders, so when the 'party' comes, they will find a way to get away from the boring elders and traditional sort of lifestyle of the tribes and go to Umbar. They also get to slaughter the elders, which we be quite fun.

Also, if you have not noticed, I ask for two months or so out of you to play this game, when it only covers fifteen days. I wanted this game to have a lot with character interaction, since that can be quite interesting among baddies. Plus, this RPG can create a history/personality/lifestyle of the Haradrim, which Tolkien didn't really do. So, what comes out of this can be experimental and very creative. I am glad that you writers have already started being creative, with Arien adding her own touch to the Dark Citadel. I like it, Arien! I really like what I'm seeing. And Lyra, you created a feeling found in most Haradrim, a connection to their nation. Quite exquisite! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] And Aylwen has a basis of the tribal relations and a cool psychic thing with Sauron. Yep, yep. We are totally rockin! So, basically what I'm saying is that we're going to move at a real life pace, and I wanted extra time, and I want to make sure that everyone has the chance to post just to talk to someone or fight with someone, because I know many people run into trouble getting online (people have life outside of the Barrow-Downs, wow!) and only post at times when they feel they need to, like battles, because they can't catch up with the conversations and such. Yeah, well...long sentence, eh?

But, anyway...

Durelin, I know how you feel about female warriors, so if this is no good I'll do a male.

Hmmmm...yes, well...I do want to limit the number of females so we have a good diversity, both in the little company and from other RPGs. I ask all you potential joiners to, if you are going to be a member of the Dark Citadel, to be a male priest since we have two priestess already. Maybe he should be unhappy about that, also... And, if you're going to be a Haradrim warrior, I'd only like one or two more females, and I ask for the same with the tribesmen. I want people to try new things here, and create new things, so maybe you should play something different than you usually do. Just a suggestion, and, if more than three people have to be female, I'm not that mean.

Okay, now, just a couple of things. First, Arien, there's just one thing. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind changing your character just a tiny little bit. All you have to change is the word 'tribesmen' or 'tribe' because that's what we're calling those that live way down south, who the Dark Citadel has never come in contact with. Everything else is fine. Lyra, you're looking good...and Aylwen, we already met Jasara.

Hmmmm...I wonder if my good friend Helky will show up...I hope not...I have permission to not accept people's characters... [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img]

Oh, yes, good first posts everyone! That's really all I wanted, to give us an idea of what the character is like, and maybe a reason for you coming or whatever. When the RPG thread opens, we'll begin outside the Dark Citadel, in the courtyard, and will receive a blessing from the High Priest.

Okay. Thankyou for reading all this crap.

Oh, I forgot. Here is a link to a site on the Haradrim that I have based this RPG around. Just if you needed something for your character...

The Haradrim

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Ealasaid]

I am writing for a Resister, but I have a question. Are even the Resisters evil? One type of evil resisting another type of evil could be fun, but I didn't think of that until after I had written this character. If that is what you are after, then I am on the wrong track and you may delete this post. No hard feelings on my part. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

No, I have never taken part in an RPG before, but I was recently accepted for a cameo role in Sailing Away

Yes, I have posted in the Green Dragon.

Name: Ahmad bin Ishak
Age: 26
Race: Desert Tribesman
Gender: Male

Weapons: long curved sword, short sword, and a dagger which he carries concealed in the back of his sash. Also a capable archer, though he does not generally carry a bow.

Appearance: He has long black hair and a short black beard, amber-flecked brown eyes, and olive skin. He is tall for a tribesman with a lean and muscular build. He wears loose white trousers and blouse, bound at the waist by a sash of intricately woven gold and black silk. Over this, he often wears a billowy white robe which covers him from wrist to ankle as protection from the sun during the day and from the cold at night. On his head, he wears a white headshawl that can be easily adjusted to cover his face except for the eyes. On his feet, he wears the boots of a horseman.

History: His people, the Painted Sand tribe wander the desert and savannahs south of Harad. They are a proud and powerful tribe, independent to a fault. Their headman, Ishak bin Ishak, is Ahmad's father. They are horsemen, famous in the region for the beautiful animals they breed. The horses are small and fast, better suited to the desert than the great horses of Rohan, with stout hearts and tremendous fortitude. They are highly valued and much sought after. Ahmad is on an errand for his father, delivering a string of five horses to the King of Harad. They are intended as a pay-off to the King so that the Haradrim will continue to ignore the tribe of Ishak bin Ishak and leave them alone to live as they will without interference.

Personality: Ahmad is smart, meticulous, and brave. He has a great love for his horses and is loyal to his tribe to the death.
Strength: his loyalty and fortitude. Also, he is an expert horseman.
Weakness: his compassion. He has been known to err on the side of compassion when a simple swipe of the sword or drop of poison might have put an end to the problem instantly.

FIRST POST

The rock had been growing steadily larger out of the flat and open grasslands all day. Now, as Ahmad bin Ishak rode into its shadow, it towered over him, a stark and craggy spike of granite in a sea of waving prairie grass. The rock, or the Tooth as his tribe called it, represented the last solid landmark before one entered the region of the shifting sands. With the tiny spring bubbling at its base, it also represented the last source of fresh water for miles.

Sensing the nearness of water, Ahmad's mount, a golden bay stallion called Sham, knickered softly and pulled at the reins. A trill of excitement ran down the string of horses he led as well. Ahmad smiled.

"Yes," he said in his own dialect. "All of you will be seeing water and rest before you know it." He reached down and patted Sham's neck.

The horse responded by shaking his small, graceful head and dancing a few steps sideways. Ahmad's smile broadened. Absently, he gave the horse's glistening neck an extra caress and dismounted.

"We've made good time," he added softly, but all the while, his dark, amber-flecked eyes scanned the horizons. A scorching wind blew in from the north, but there was nothing other than sand and swaying grasses as far as the eye could see. At least that is what he thought at first, but his attention was caught by what seemed to be movement, a cloud of dust, growing against the southern horizon. That should be his kinsman, Yusef al Rahman, riding up to join him. They were to take on the region of the sand together. Leaving the shadow of the rock, Ahmad moved a few steps toward the distant dust cloud. Whoever it was, he was riding hard and fast.

Ahmad had initially planned to camp at the rock that night and wait until dusk of the following day before entering the open sand. From there, he and Yusef would travel due north until they reached the Fatwa Oasis. A large and busy oasis, it was the ideal place for them to resupply from the traders who seemed to have semi-permanent encampments there. Also, it would give the horses a chance to rest, not to mention himself an opportunity to catch up with the news from the rest of the world. He planned to make the journey from the rock to the oasis at night when there were stars to guide them, and there was some respite from the oppressive heat. After all, they couldn't very well deliver a string of starving and heat-ravaged animals to the King of Harad. Some gift that would make... an insult more likely.

Keeping one eye on the rapidly approaching dust cloud in the south, Ahmad saw to the horses. Once they had been watered and tethered out to graze, he pitched his own tent and built a small fire. In addition to Sham and his packhorse, Ahmad had in his charge five saddlehorses that were intended as a gift to the King of Harad from Ahmad's father, the headman of the Painted Sand Tribe. Actually, the horses were not so much a gift as a bribe. For years, Ahmad's tribe had sent a tribute of horses to Umbar. Small and fast, they were better suited to the desert than the great horses of Rohan far to the north. As a result, the Painted Sand horses were much sought after in the region and considered immensely valuable. In return for the annual gift of horses, the tribe received a relative lack of interference from the Haradrim in general and were pretty much left to themselves to do as they would. But lately...

Ahmad glanced up at the now darkening sky. Lately, a shadow had fallen across the land and was spreading rapidly across the desert. Rumors told of a Red Eye and of how in the cities, fearful acolytes preached a new religion, one of bloodshed and stygian doom. New converts flocked to its banner every day. Even among the members of his own relatively isolated tribe, he had noticed a stark factionalism growing between the traditionalists and the followers of the new faith. The young men especially, many of them Ahmad's own peers, had taken to wearing their weapons openly. They refused to tend to the horses as they had always done in the past, preferring instead to hang together in packs on the fringes of the encampment, fingering their daggers and watching. Waiting. They reminded Ahmad of jackals.

Ahmad's father, Ishak bin Ishak, had noticed this, too, and been concerned enough to send Ahmad north with an additional string of horses. Ahamd found himself wondering if they were not already too late. After all, the moral decay had already infected the blood of his kinsmen. Soon it would eat away at the bone.

At first, Ahmad had been relieved to take on the task of delivering the horses, but now, two days out from his tribe's encampment, he worried for the safety of his aging parents and of his two sisters, Chani and Shushila. He should have stayed at their sides and let another play the part of messenger boy to the king.

Having laid out his camp, Ahmad again walked toward the rising dust cloud in the south. The rider would be upon him shortly. Ahmad could now hear clearly the hoofbeats of the galloping horse. He waited. Moments later, the rider reined his black mount to an abrupt halt before Ahmad. Caked in dust and sweat, his face fully covered but the eyes by his headshawl, the rider leapt from his horse. Quickly, he approached Ahmad. Crossed swords clanked softly under his robe.

"Hail, kinsman!" he said breathlessly. It was Yusef.

"Hail, cousin," replied Ahmad. His eyes flicked to the lathered flanks of the black horse. "You have been riding hard. What are the tidings? What prompts such urgency?"

Yusef lowered the tail of his headshawl to reveal his dark, dusty face. "Things go ill with our tribe. The night you left there was a knifing. Your father has the guilty man bound and under guard, but there are rumblngs of anger, especially among our peers. We must return at once."

Immediately, Ahmad pictured the hungry, watchful eyes of the Jackals, as he had come to think of them. He had known there would be trouble. He should never have left. "And my father? How is he?"

"Angry. He never walks the camp unguarded. Guards watch your family's compound at all times."

"And my mother? My sisters?"

"They are well and safe for the moment."

For the moment, echoed Ahmad mentally. "We return at once," he said brusquely. "There are dates and dried meats by the fire. Feed yourself while I break camp. We will move your saddle to another horse and start back immediately." Without giving Yusef a chance to respond, he turned and vanished into his tent. The first items he reached for were his swords. With the camp broken and fresh horses saddled, they were riding southward again within the hour, the great rock sinking into the grassland behind them like a fading memory.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[piosenniel]

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Which one? The Lonely Star, Shadow of a Star, The Gathering In, The Long Winter, Wolf Run, A Ride to the Darkside, On Patrol, Castle Maladil, Picnic at the Bonfire Glade, An Audience with the King

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Jamílah Fajr – Resister

AGE: 37

RACE: Man

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Ironwood mace with small obsidian blades along both edges; obsidian tipped wooden spear; small hunting bow for very small game and birds; obsidian knife with mumak tusk handle; her herbs and concoctions.

APPEARANCE: 5’ 7” (1.7 meters); 125 lbs (57 kg); dark black skin; dark brown eyes; black hair, short, tightly curled against her head; small framed; lithe; well muscled. Wears the traditional brightly colored long skirt of her mother’s family tribe with a sleeveless loose white shirt, embroidered with symbols of the rising sun. On the back of her right hand, between her thumb and first finger, is the raised scar tattoo of the sun, and on her left, in a like manner, is the new quarter moon, a single small star lying in the shadowed area.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: A deeply intuitive woman; intelligent; open minded; considers problems thoroughly before making decisions; quiet; calm; her presence is very reassuring – she is the sort of person that others seek out when troubled; well versed in native herbal and natural lore – she can deal out remedies for both healing and for death. When her family is threatened, she is completely ruthless – a hunter and avenger without remorse.

Weaknesses: She is very tradition bound with respect to her spiritual and social beliefs. She is a follower of the Old Way. Her family, especially her children and their children, come first, then her mother’s tribal ways, then her husband’s. Pulls by these traditional values can often make her choices less informed by intellect and reason and more informed by her heart.

HISTORY: She was born into a prosperous trading tribe of the Hither Lands, far east of Umbar, near one of the large bays along the Inner Seas. Her Mother was a medicine woman of her tribe and she passed her knowledge to her daughters – divination with the small bones of various animals and birds, rituals for healings and other needs, the making of medicines and poisons.

Jamíla, as most women in her tribe, was married at the age of sixteen. She has two daughters, in their early twenties with babies of their own. Her Husband was a trader in metals and precious gems from the plains farther west of her lands, near the Sundering Seas. Desiring to see what the world beyond her own lands held, it was her choice to follow him to his birth place. He died soon after the birth of their second child, a wasting sickness caught in the teeming city of Umbar while on a trading trip.

First Post:

It was early evening. Families were gathered in front of their tents, eating the day’s end meal. Children laughed and ran among the groups, stealing a bit of flat bread here, a slice of fruit there. The elders clucked at them in mock remonstrance, their wide bright smiles belying any real anger.

‘Little birds,’ they called out to them, ‘why do you steal a poor man’s last crumbs!’

The children shrieked with laughter at the question, their voices trailing off as they ran wildly into the tall grass toward the last rays of the setting sun.

Jamíla picked at her food as she watched the children. Though the approaching night was warm, she felt a chill creep across her shoulders. ‘Some unlucky breeze from the north,’ she thought to herself, though glancing up, the tall grass of the plains stood deathly still against the last inches of light, the tip of each stalk seeming to burn with a reddish glow. She shook her shoulders trying to shake off the cold feeling, and placed her right palm against her heart to ward off evil.

Until a very few years ago, life for her had gone smoothly. There were birthings to be seen to, and dying to be eased. Women seeking husbands, wanting babies. Men seeking wives, better fortunes, greater luck in the hunt. Rites of passage to be seen to. The ordinary things that made a full, good life for her.

But then came the first hints of shadow and despair. First on the ashy wind that blew sometimes from the north, bringing a faint sharp, bitter smell, then in the darkness that grew in her readings as she cast the bones to augur at the new moon’s rising. And now, among many of the young, a festering shadow had crept in to devour their spirits.

Jamílah stood and beckoned for her daughters to stand also. ‘Call your children in,’ she told them in a low, urgent voice. ‘Call them quickly. Keep them close. Some shadow comes for us, and soon . . . with bloodied hands . . .’

[piosenniel]

Everyone, please note:

A Discussion Thread Reminder

Fellow Shire Gamers:

Our gaming comes with a cost; it is time to reflect on this fact and make some changes to how we run our games.

We RPGers are the most voracious consumers of Barrow Downs resources. We use a game thread, a discussion thread, PMs to plan games, and are constant visitors to the site, often returning more than two or three times a day to keep up with developments in the game in order to prepare our own posts.

Please read before posting further on the Discussion Thread

Our gaming comes with a cost; it is time to reflect on this fact and make some changes to how we run our games.

We RPG’ers use the most Barrow Downs resources. We use a game thread, a discussion thread, PMs to plan games, and are constant visitors to the site, often returning more than two or three times a day to keep up with developments in the game in order to prepare our own posts.

Why is this a drain on BD resources? Please take some time to read carefully and reflect seriously upon the Barrow Wight's recent posts in the "Announcements >> The Barrow Downs" forum concerning storage space and bandwidth, chat and discussion, and the costs of running the site, and then change your posting habits.

What this means is that our Games, because we need to be so active in them, and because the Shire has so many going at once, cost the site much more money that other topics and forums on the Barrow Downs. In order for us to continue to have a good number of quality games for Shirelings to play in we need to make some changes:

What you, as participants in this game can do, personally:

What are the most beneficial changes in our posting habits? For one, we need to stop using the discussion threads for off-game-topic chatting, for personal comment. We need to restrict our posts to discussion of the games only, that is, to issues of plotting, character interaction, clarification, and notification of absences.

For most occasions, we don't need to make multiple posts about why we are absent or how we are doing and we don't need to make a string of 'see ya' posts in reply.

For personal comments, we can use the chat room or PM’s. (It’s ok to say a short ‘Nice post!’ or ‘Great post!’ if it is included with a post that has some other on-topic game information/requests on it.)

Please take the time to do several things:

Keep on topic for the Game.

Delete posts or run of the mill comments in the discussion thread that have no bearing on the game.

Refrain from such posts and comments in future discussions of the games.

Limit your daily visits to the thread.

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

READ THIS SECTION CAREFULLY. ALL GAMERS WILL BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR UNDERSTANDING THESE CHANGES.

What we, as Shire Moderators, will be doing to insure these changes are being made:

We will be following the discussion threads more closely now. When we see an off topic post – we will give the poster a warning by PM and place a post on the Discussion Thread with the poster’s name on it and a request to remove that post.

Once the warning is given, all future off-topic posts by that poster will be deleted, and that poster runs the risk of being asked to leave the game by the Moderator if such behavior continues.

The Moderator also has the option to close the Game and Discussion thread if gamers cannot stay on topic in the Discussion Thread. It will then be up to the Owner and the players to sort out problems, by PM or email, and make an agreement to keep on topic. Owners may then contact the Moderator to reopen the Game.

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

If we all help out, we can ensure that our games remain treasures in the Barrow Downs.

Thanks for being responsible gamers and conscientious members of the Downs!

~~ Pio, your Game Moderator

[Durelin]

Well, the resistors aren't evil, but I have considered them as sticking with their own affairs. Like the Ents, if you need something to compare it to. On no one's side, but good people. Your character is very good, but there is something I hope you wouldn't mind changing. I like the clan idea, but if you could just change that to 'tribe' and edit out the desert part. It is still the Harad desert that these nomadic tribes wander in. Thankyou! And in now way am I totally deleting a good bio! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] Oh, yeah, welcome to the RPing world on the Barrow-Downs!

PIO!! YAY!! Your bio is perfect, of course...except...there's grass down there? You're probably right that there is...but I just assumed there wasn't...oh well...

Greatm now I'm scared. I've got a mod playing in my RPG! Agh! I must watch my step, musn't I?

Oh, right, one thing I wanted to remind everyone of. Please remember, in your dialogue and preferabely all of your post, to not talk like you would normally. Cuz you can't say 'cuz' and 'stuff' like that. Thanks, just a reminder. You have all done that so far...probably because you guys are all great writers...I can't wait to see, Ealasaid, how you write. I have RPed with everyone else, I think. Though Arien and I were on different sides...

You heard what Pio said! And since, I did too, I will be PMing all further requests for changes and hopefully we can do most of the planning over PM. And after the planning is over, remember to delete the PM. You can save anything you need in a Word document. Also, even though I want to do character interacting, we will not be going real slow in the game. And and I will personally kill anyone who posts off-topi on the discussion thread. (though I must stop too) Thankyou.

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[piosenniel]

All the planning can be done on this thread (that's what this thread is for) - I just want to make sure that it doesn't get chatty.

Please do your planning here, so everyone can see it (unless of course it is some secret diversion) - there are new people to Barrow Downs gaming coming on board, and I want them to see how people here think things through.

Just take all the personal chat to PM. (With the exception of course of - 'Gosh, Pio! Great post!!' [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

About the grasslands:

Haradwaith is thought to be much like Africa. While there are great deserts there - most of the living is done in the parts outside the desert which support life.

Africa has great savannah grasslands interspersed among the more arid areas (though they too suffer during the dry seasons). Hence, where my character and her tents are gathered at present, there is a grassland with small game, roots and other such edibles to eat. And waterholes for the people and animals to use.

There are of course the vast stretches of desert that surround and push in against life - much like the Great Eye.

[Lyra Greenleaf]

So, Durelin, can I see if I have this right- according to your link the Corsairs and the Haradrim are completely different! Why did you not tell me I was writing complete rubbish? I know you asked for Haradrim, but could I maybe change it so that she wants to go into the desert instead of sticking to the sea because of the seasickness? Then she could be kind of looking down on the Haradrim as inferior (or at least different?) Or alternatively I could take that whole aspect out and make her Haradrim?

EDIT: Oh sugar, now I'm confused again! OK, this is what makes me think that the Corsairs and the Haradrim are different:

Umbar is being inhabited almost completely by Haradrim, while only a small elite of nobility and other influential groups (such as Corsair families) remain from the formerly dominant peoples.

Or am I making it more complicated than it is?

[ May 24, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

[Arien]

I am posting this here because Durelin's PM box is full:

First thankyou for letting me play, I really wanted to take part in this. But I will be away for a week starting today. I will be able to next post on the 1st of June. I am really sorry for the inconvinence.

Arien

[Ealasaid]

Hello! I tried to PM this to you but your message box was full. I made the suggested changes & will do my best to stick with the proper lingo henceforth. If there are any other changes needed please let me know. Edits are not a problem. After all, you're da boss! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]
Ealasaid

[piosenniel]

Just to let all of you know - Arien and Ealasaid - your previous posts to this thread were entirely in keeping with what we want to see here - information concerning aspects of the game - no need to take these things to PM.

[arelendil]

Character Description Form:

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Naramarth (Priest)

AGE: 26

RACE: Man

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Naramarth carries a double handed broad sword. Dark steel, almost black with black leather grip. The hilt of the sword is the same dark metal into which is set a deep red stone.

APPEARANCE: Naramarth is a man of great height which he does not waste, though he is slenderly built he has great strength. His skin is pale from dwelling always in shadow. His hair his dark brown straight, reaching to his shoulders. His eyes are almost black, deep pits that show no mercy for he has none. His robes of the priesthood he always wears, dark some colour between blood red and black. His cloak is black, reaching to the floor hiding his booted feet. the collar of the cloak rises up from his shoulders, ending in spikes that skim the tops of his ears.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Naramarth has been a priest all his life, learning the ways of the dark since before he could remember. Naramarth loves the dark, the shadows in which he can hide. His movements he always conseals in shadow and mist and his long practise at this has been his movements almost silent. He considers himself high in the dark lords favour, though maybe high than he actually is, for who can tell the mind of the lord of darkness? His strength lies not in his muscles but in his mind and his devotion to the dark power. Once is mind is set on a task he will die trying in the name of his God.

HISTORY: Naramarth entered the Priesthood when he was but a boy. His father had been a high priest and his father before him. Naramarth's father had died in the service of the dark lord and it is Naramarth's greatest wish to die in the same manner, doing worship to the darkness, to his God. Naramarth's rise in the priesthood was fast, quickly learning to use those around him to better himself while staying on the right side of those that would do him harm.

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

First Post:

Naramarth moved silently through the dark, shadowy corridors of the dark citadel, his feet making little sound as he strided between the shadows. Banners of blood red hang down the walls, still and foreboding in the dry, hot air trapped inside the citadel’s walls. The air burnt his lungs, a feeling which Naramarth loved. His hands went to his throat adjusting the ties that held his cloak in place, the hem of which was trailing lifelessly on the floor, making a soft swishing sound as he walked.

Naramarth quickened his pace, clenching his pale hands beneath his robes, something was happening in this place, the air had become drier recently if that was possible and whatever the change, Naramarth intended to use it to his advantage.

Naramarth suddenly stopped at a banner. He looked it up and down, admiring the work that had been done. He smirked to himself to see drops of blood on it, and not old blood, dry and hard but fresh, it made his skin crawl; tingle even with pleasure. One of the priestess had been playing with the slaves again. He cackled to himself as he continued on. The word had been spread that there was going to be a ‘trip’ to deal with the rebels of the desert. Naramarth hoped to be one the priests chosen to go. He would take great pleasure in dealing with the rebels who stood against the will of his Dark Lord and God. His hand reached through the folds of his robe, his pale skin glistened with oil even though the skin was brittle. He rubbed his hands together, loving the sound of skin against skin and bones snapping back into place. He was ready to honour his God and destroy the forces that stood against him.

Finally Naramarth reached the end of the corridor, in front of him stood a huge pair of doors. Glistening in the candle light to shone on them. They were made of dark metal like most important doors in the citadel. They were huge, reaching up to the ceiling, shrouded in mist and shadow that always hung from the roof beams. His hand ran over the design cut into the door; a huge eye lidless, rimmed with flame. Naramarth’s heart soared as he pushed against the weight of the door. Of all the chambers of the priesthood this was the biggest, the most important save the temple where they prayed and worshipped their God. This was the meeting hall and this was where Naramarth’s adventure would begin.

[Durelin]

Welcome, arelendil! At first I was going to scold you for your grammer in your character bio, but then your first post was pratically perfect, so...? Also, I saw that you said that Naramarth's father and grandfather had been high priests. Possibly we could incorporate that factor into the story. Perhaps to make Naramarth arrogant, or perhaps disliked because his father did something that made people not want the high priest to continue coming from his family? Or...I don't know, I told you to be creative, and it's fine that he is the son of a high priest, but not the current? Am I getting you right, or did you not mean the high priest at all. But, besides that it's fine. Plus, I like the meeting hall. So, I think the priests, when the RPG opens, should post first with a meeting in the hall. I think it should be a surprise to the two that they come in and there is only me and the High Priest and the two others. Then we go from there and then go out to the courtyard to see those warriors who have answered the call and then we move. Right?

Please - do all your planning on the Discussion Thread, including requests for people to make changes to their posts, etc. All of that has to do with this Game, and I want the new people to see how we Barrow Downs gamers handle the problems that come up in a game.

Those are Pios orders, so forget what I was going on about.

Sorry about the PM thing, and it is cleared out now.

Okay, in a rush, so, I'll check back to see if I have forgotten anything later. Thanks, and sorry to anyone who cross-posted, I'll get back to you soon! Thanks for sticking with me, guys!

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Durelin- quick question. This game looks great, and I desperately want to be involved in it, but I'm involved in a lot of other projects. Do you have any minor spots available? If not, I'll probably write a full character, but I thought I'd check to see if I could get a small part before taking on a big one. Thanks.

Sophia

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

I've given this a lot of thought and done a lot of weighing of time (lots) versus commitments (some), and have decided that I simply can't pass on this game. So I'm hereby submitting a full character. I know, Durelin, that you said you didn't want a lot of females, but Aylwen mentioned in Jasara's profile that she was the oldest daughter of the tribal leader, meaning she has at least one younger sister. I'd really like to play Jasara's younger sister (also a convert), if it would be acceptable. If not, I've also written a male character and can submit that one instead.

Sophia

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES: Quest for the Ainereg, Truth in a Dark Place, Reclaiming the City, and In the Footsteps of the Grey Company. I’m also involved in the planning for the Princess Guard, and will be owning A House Divided this summer.

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Khasia (Jasara’s younger sister)

AGE: 16

RACE: Men (tribal converts)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Khasia has also been trained with the broadsword, but it is far too heavy for her, and she prefers a stone tipped spear or a small bow.

APPEARANCE: Khasia is very small and slender. She also has unmanageable frizzy dark hair, but she’s put it into a cluster of small braids and rarely ever takes it out. Her eyes are wide and brown. Khasia is slightly more feminine than her sister and generally wears a flowing off white skirt and an off white tunic. She scorns bright colors and symbolic embroidery as useless traditions of the old and all her clothing is unadorned. She has no shoes, and has toughened the soles of her feet enough that she can walk on hot sand without burning them.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Khasia is levelheaded and calm. She makes decisions only with much deliberation and she is skilled at controlling her impulses. She is extremely power hungry, and as self control is the only power she currently wields she tends to overuse it. As a rule, Khasia is very resistant to authority and won’t take criticism. She puts far too much weight on her own opinion and secretly believes she’s invulnerable. She doesn’t believe that Jasara is a god, but does think she is a powerful seer and is slightly in awe of her. She follows her lead in most areas but has convinced herself that this is because Jasara is doing what Khasia wants to do anyway.

HISTORY: Khasia is the youngest daughter of the tribal leader. She and Jasara have never been close, during her childhood Khasia was a tattletale and was extremely spoiled. The night Jasara prophesied the rainstorm Khasia had been lying right beside her. She had heard Jasara speak, and it was through her quick tongue that the youth of the tribe first heard of the prediction. At first when Jasara was hailed by all as a goddess Khasia was disdainful, but as she grew older her own differences of opinion with her father and the other elders pushed her into the group of young people her sister led. She believes firmly that the customs of the older members of the tribe were designed to hold her and her generation back, and keep them subservient. Above all she desires power, and she is frustrated that no matter which side she chooses she doesn’t get nearly enough to satisfy her.

FIRST POST:
The sun rose red over the eastern horizon, and Khasia was awake early. Jasara’s stirring had woken her, and she looked up to hear her softly telling one of the boys that nothing was wrong. Khasia gazed after Jasara as she strode toward the stream, wondering what was on her sister’s mind that woke her so early. Jasara was often distracted.

Khasia lay still for a long moment, savoring the feeling of her warm blankets before the day’s hot work began. Then she stretched and crawled out of her sleep bag. The same boy who had spoken to Jasara sat up again. “You too, Khasia?” he asked. Khasia bundled her sleep bag up and tied it securely before prodding the boy with her toe.

“It’s a fine morning, lazy, and I’m going to run.” Khasia loved to run, just for the feeling of it, and she often ran in the mornings before the sun turned too hot. It gave her solitude—a chance to get away from the irritating fawning of the other young people on her sister. She used the quiet to plan as well. Jasara couldn’t always be right, and where she failed Khasia intended to be right.

This morning was no different than most, and Khasia ran through the short grasses, her bare feet sending up small clouds of dust as they pounded the sunbaked ground. Her shoulder length hair was in braids and the hard knots of fabric she’d used to tie them off bounced against her neck as she ran. When she was a good distance from the tribe’s camp Khasia slowed. She was near the creek, north of the place where Jasara had been headed. When she reached the water she dropped to the ground and drank thirstily. A few of the small berries that grew on the low bushes beside the creek were a sweet reward after her run.

Khasia sat there for a few moments, thinking about the day ahead. It would be long and filled with irritating orders from people whose minds were as wrinkled and faded as their faces. Her face twisted and she spit the seed from a berry into the dirt, burying it absently with a brown toe. For now it must be endured. There weren’t enough of the young people to leave the old and start again. Safety resided in numbers, and for now the old ones were at least good for that.

Setting her face Khasia rose and made her way back to camp. Her pace was a slow jog, giving her plenty of time to mull over her thoughts while she ran. She gave the sun another glance, it’s color still red long after it would usually have turned a fierce yellow. The day was going to be strange, Khasia thought, and wondered vaguely what it would hold.

[Durelin]

I'm Glad you didn't pass it up, Sophia! There weren't any small parts, well the tribesmen are smaller than the priests and warriors, but I could have made one for you...but, I'm glad you're going to play! Oh, don't worry about the female thing...doesn't matter, it's a good character, so...

Ealasaid, one question. Since your first post was with Ahmad bringing gifts into Umbar (where the King is), when does he meet up with the priests and their guard. Is that something that happened days before, so he is going to be back with the tribe when the RPG starts, or is he going to follow the company, or...? What were you planning? Just wondering...

Sorry, Lyra! I goofed, and I explained to you in a PM. Sorry! Really, I just said that there are always exceptions, and I believe that any Haradrim could've joined the Corsairs since they are so closely linked, in ways... I really don't know much...that's the bad part!

[Nerindel]

Hi Durelin, this RPG sounds great [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]
I'd love to try playing a bad guy for once [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img] so here go's.

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Currently In The Footsteps Of The Grey Company and I Have also just joined The Summons (but like Sophia I couldn't resist this one [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] )

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Ghurdan (The Black Heart)

AGE: 34

RACE: Haradrim (Corsair)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Ghurdan's primary weapon is his Broadsword. The pommel of his sword is a round, blood red ruby with a thin black stone set in the middle to make it look like the fiery eye of his god. The hilt is black with an intricate red flame design, the blade itself is made of a dark metal and Ghurdan is careful to keep it in good condition. Ghurdan also carries two red hilted throwing daggers and a black shafted Spear.

APPEARANCE:Ghurdan is 5 ft 8, with dark skin and his eyes are darker than the darkest night. His shoulder length black hair is tied at the nape of his neck by a red leather thong. A scar runs from his left eye to the bottom of his chin.

Three gold rings hang from Ghurdans right ear. He wears a sleeveless bright red tunic and black pants, Around his biceps he wears black leather bands that look like they would snap if he flexed his muscular arms, he also wears a dark blood red cloak when travelling.

On Ghurdans Right shoulder is a tattoo of The Red Eye, signifying his loyalty to The Dark Lord.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:Ghurdan is Extremely Cruel and wicked, he captains his ship the 'Fire Spray' with a heavy hand and uses fear of failure to keep his crew in check. He trusts no-one. He takes great pleasure in killing but even more in torturing his victims. Many know him as 'The Black Heart', a name given him by other corsairs and sailors in Umbar, as many of them believe he has no heart and if he did it would be blacker than the black sky itself.

Ghurdan's only weakness is his temper. He tries hard to control it, but does not always succeed.

HISTORY: Ghurdan has spent most of his life in the indirect service of The Dark Lord. Like his father before him he is a pirate of Umbar and has lived there all his life. Also like his father he supplies the Citadel with it's more specialised Sacrifices, mainly Gondorian and Dol Armoth Sailors and some times even the odd Elf.

Ghurdan's father was killed by Ithilien Rangers while on a raiding party in south Ithilien, ten years ago. Like most of his people he hates the Gondorians and envies there riches, lands and power.

Five years ago, Ghurdan returned on his ship the 'Fire Spray'from a successful raid on South Ithilien. He had brought six prisoners for the Citadel to sacrifice, two women and four rangers. On the return journey one of the Rangers tried taunting him and Ghurdan had punished him mercilessly, but keeping him alive not wishing to incur the wrath of the priests and preistesses of the Dark Religion.

After docking he and four of his best men took the prisoners to the Citadel and presented them to the Preistess Sevora, The Red Flame. She was pleased as always with his offering. But as the prisoners were being lead away by some minor priests the Ranger that had taunted him whispered with a wicked gleam in his eyes,

"You look much like your father and you shall some day meet his same fate."

Realising that this Ranger must be one of the ones who had killed his father, a great anger swelled inside him that he could not contain. Before he knew what he was doing he had unsheathed his sword and swung, taking the rangers head from his body.

Ghurdan then found himself suddenly hitting the far wall, as he looked up he saw Sevora advancing on him her face livid with rage. His men had ran in the face of the preistesses wrath, he made a mental note to punish them if he survived. But like most people he knew of Sevora's punishments, they usually involved dying slowly and painfully. He hoped that he was still of some value to her. As she reached him he could see a wicked gleam in her eyes, she had now composed herself and pulled one of his daggers from his belt and held it close to his left eye turning it slowly.

"Why did you do that" She hissed at him. "h..he is the o..one w..who killed my f..father" he replied feigning the stammer. "Ah he too was a Valuable man" she continued still wearing that wicked smile. She drew back a little to allow him to stand, but as he did she slashed him across his left cheek, "I will not tolerate any further outbursts like that" she warned him and whispering in his ear "The next time you shall wish for death before I'm done with you."

She then threw his knife back to him and calmly turned and made to leave, but as she reached the exit to the room, She turned back to him scowling wickedly daring him to act. But although he hated her he also respected her. Her Cruelty more than matched his and he knew it, so he did not move, but neither did he take his eyes off her or show any sign of fear. Laughing wickedly she left.

The wound eventually healed but he is now left with a scar down his left cheek, a sore reminder to control his temper and to never anger 'The Red Flame.'

Several times after that the Citadel had called on him to do their bidding, killing lords that the Dark One found unworthy, Tracking and catching Traitors and as always bringing fresh sacrifices. He did not see much of The Red Flame after their unpleasant encounter, a lesser priest now paid him and took the prisoners. The reason for this change was and still is not known to him.

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

First Post

Ghurdan walked through the city streets of Umber with his latest offerings for the Dark one, Two Elven females and three Gondorian males from Dol Amroth. He yanked hard on the chains that bound them together, forcing them to quicken their pace. He was in a foul mood, This last raid had began well and the bounty was rich, but on the return journey he had been forced to throw half the plunder over board when Three war ships from Dol Armoth gave chase. They had managed to evade their enemies even sinking one of their ships, but not before they had damaged the Fire Spray's aft and downed her main mast. The Fire Spray had limped into port in a bad way, Ghurdan was mad with fury, but as he had also lost more than half his crew he could not afford to take it out on them. It was going to take at least an month to repair, this only made him madder but he gritted his teeth and hauled the prisoner up from the hull, shouting various orders to his crew, he knew they would obey him, as he kept their pockets lined with gold, but more than that they feared what he would do to them if they did not carry out his orders.


As he walked through the city he growled at passers-by in the hope that one of them would challenge him, so he would have someone to vent his anger on. But none of the passers-by would oblige him instead they lowered their heads and hurried passed or they crossed the street keeping out of the Corsairs way. Ghurdan, The Black Heart was well known and feared by the people of Umbar. "Cowards the lot of them" he spat, as he again yanked the prisoners chains. One of the Elven women stumbled and fell to her knees, He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet, shouting viciously "Get up elf witch". As he pulled her up she spat in his face, her actions had finally broke his temper and he slapped her hard across the face, breaking her nose and leaving the fiery imprint of his hand on her delicate white skin. He was slightly surprised that the woman had not passed out, but he did not show it. Instead he prodded her roughly with the tip of his spear, making her stumble again but this time she was quicker to rise. A satisfied grin spread across his face as she rose.


When they reached the Citadel the usual Priest was there to meet him. he was an average sized man with short black hair, Wearing the normal Black and dried blood red robes of his order. A black mace with red spikes hung from his belt and Ghurdan did not doubt that he knew how to use it.

"So what gifts have you brought your god today," The priest hissed excitedly. Without replying he pushed the prisoners forwards.
"Ah, three Gondorians and two Elves. Yes, his exhaltedness will be most pleased." he said examining the prisoners, "This one is damaged" he hissed holding the elf woman's face and turning it to him. "She was insolent" he calmly replied. The priest said nothing and moved on to inspect the others.

The priest then turned to his young apprentice spitting on him as he spoke " Take the Woman to be prepared and take the men to be questioned!" The young man bowed low and then took the prisoners away, as he went two Citadel guards fell in behind them.

The Priest reached down and pulled a large money pouch from his robes and threw it to Ghurdan. Showing no emotion what so ever he caught it, the weight seemed right so he didn't bother to count it. He nodded to the priest waiting to be dismissed , but the priest now had something else in his hands and was grinning wickedly. It was a scroll, "A message from the High priest himself" the man hissed pushing the scroll into his hands and hurrying from the room. Ghurdan slowly unrolled the scroll, reading the blood red lettering on the page.

Black Heart

The Black Citadel again requires your capable skills, we wish you to accompany the Priestess Sevora, The Red Flame and two other priests or priestesses of her choosing.

They will be going to recruit new followers from a nomadic dessert tribe in the outlands, south of Harad. Your job is to kill any resistors and ensure the safety of the priestesses and or priests. Sevora is a valued member of our order and her safety is your utmost priority, not That we think she needs any protection but she will be travelling with six other warriors that may think the killing of a priestess will elevate their position and reputation!

Be at the Citadel's courtyard, when the sun is at it's highest in the sky.

Failure will incur the wrath of The Eye

High Priest of the Eye.


As he finished reading he realised that his hand had gone instinctively to the scare on his left cheek, the scar that Sevora herself had given him. As he ran his fingers along it he chuckled to himself , not only would he be serving his Dark lord again but he would be travelling with the woman that was most defiantly his match in strength and cruelty. With that thought he returned to the Fire Spray, to make ready for the journey ahead.

*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`**`*`*`*`* `*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`**`*`*`*`*`

Hehe I had great fun writing this Character I hope it is OK [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[ May 26, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Durelin]

An excellent character, Nerindel! I am glad you decided to join like Sophia! Yes...I love me Sevora! I like what you've created there...it'll be an interesting journey, eh? Oh, just the one thing is the spelling of the name. You've just got one extra 'r' in there. And I have just one question, could he be classified as a Corsair, or just a basic raider? Just wondering... Everything else is great. This is really working out nicely, I haven't felt the need to turn anyone down! [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

Okay, so here's a character list so far:

Durelin(Me): Sevora, Priestess

Arien: Dristi, Priestess

Lyra Greenleaf: Essenia Dagon, Female Haradrim Warrior (Corsair)

Aylwen Dreamsong: Jasara, Female Tribesman convert

Ealasaid: Ahmad bin Ishak, Male Tribesman resister

Pio!: Jamílah Fajr, Female Tribesman resister

arelendil: Naramarth, Priest

Sophia: Khasia, Tribesman convert (Jasara's sister)

Nerindel: Ghurdan, Haradrim Warrior (Pirate/Corair?)

We still need:

5 Haradrim Warriors

One desert tribesman resister

One desert tribesman convert

Thanks!

*-Durelin-*

EDIT: Sorry! I forgot to say thanks for making the changes I suggested!

[ May 26, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Ealasaid]

Whoops! I didn't realise that the king was in Umbar. I can do one of three things. 1)I can amend the first post (which will have to be done regardless); 2) he can somehow meet up with the priests in transit either to or from his home territory; or 3) he can encounter the baddies after returning to his tribe. I am flexible based on whatever works best for the story line.

When I wrote it, I envisioned this as taking place just prior to his encounter with the Priests. Obviously, as it stands, the geography is a problem. My initial thought was that the gift horses be stolen at the oasis. While in pursuit of them, he encounters one of the other tribal groups either just before or just as they encounter the bad guys.

I have a question as well. How many tribes are we dealing with? Between resisters and converts, I am counting at least three so far. Are the baddies going to wipe out all three in the course of the game or should we try to combine into just one or two groups?

[ May 26, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Nerindel]

Oh, just the one thing is the spelling of the name. You've just got one extra 'r' in there. And I have just one question, could he be classified as a Corsair, or just a basic raider? Just wondering...

Oops,sorry about that [img]smilies/eek.gif[/img]
All fixed [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]
and Ghurdan is a Corsair, I just took that as read, sorry about that [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

Corsairs of Umbar - Name given to any of the groups of pirates and raiders based at Umbar, among the greastest enemies of Gondor.

Umbar was lost to Men of Harad, who again quickly became Corsairs.

[Durelin]

Okay, Ealasaid , I believe the best thing would be for you to change your first post so that you are on your way to the oasis. Then, you can post once or twice to tell us of your progress, and we'll eventually meet up with you at some point and steal your horses. How does that sound to you? Maybe someone else who joins as a tribesman could be traveling with you...depends on what they, and you, want. Thanks!

Oh, and I believe it would be best if there were only one or two tribes, and preferably combined. Basically, the 'younglings' will seperate from the elders, and those from Umbar and the converts will eradicate all those who resist. Actually, some may escape, or be taken as prisoners. So, it all depends on what you want your character to do. Live and flee, die, or be taken prisoner. I hope I can leave it up to you tribesmen to decide just how you guys will be set up...? It's up to you. I can just make it all up straight-forward, but...that wouldn't be as fun, now would it? [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Also, thankyou Nerindel! I am looking forward to character interactions with you!

And Arien, I think Sevora and Dristi could either get along really well, or loathe each other. Dristi seems to enjoy men [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img] and Sevora finds them disgusting, but really sees no difference between men and women...

Thanks everybody...

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Ealasaid]

Okay...I'll rework the first post. Sounds like a good plan to me. And, sure, if there are any other tribesmen out there who want to be travelling with Ahmad, that would be great! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[piosenniel]

Here is a map of Middle-earth. Can you give me a clue about where you see the forces of the Eye starting out.

And where do you see the tribes residing at the point of contact between them and the Warriors of the Eye?

I wouldn't mind getting my tribe together with another, but where are we?

[Durelin]

Oh, right. Well, firs I wanna say that my timeframes are quite unreasonable, I believe, and I am a much smarter person now, since I wrote that... [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

The Warriors will meet the Priestesses and Priest in the courtyard of the Dark Citadel in Umbar, and they will depart from there straight into the Harad. They will travel southeast through the Great Desert and will meet up with the tribe(s) at around the bottom of the line between squares J6 and K6 on the map. Thankyou for the map, mighty mod Pio! My map cuts off just below Umbar, so...

Sorry about my making this a royal pain. [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img] Oh well... [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img]

[Nerindel]

Ok now it's my turn to be a right royal pain! [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img]

I've been wondering about the desert crossing and I have a few questions:

1/ how are we traveling from Umbar to the oasis where we will steal Ealasaid's horses?
I must admit that I don't know much about horses, but I'm sure they would not fair well in the heat of a desert [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img] (but I could be wrong)

2/ Are any of the more prestigious members of our group (Sevora and/or the other priests and priestesses) going to be riding atop Oliphaunts? [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] ( I was thinking that Sevora would like being higher up than her underlings [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img] [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] )

3/ If not using horses to cross the main part of the desert would it be appropriate to invent some desert dwelling creature much like a camel for them to ride on or is that too out of keeping with tolkien???? [img]smilies/confused.gif[/img]

[Ealasaid]

Based on my limited knowledge of the desert, I would think camels are the best for crossing wide expanses of sand, but for short journeys horses would be okay, as long as one carried a good water supply and travelled mostly at night. But, then, I'm no expert.

[Durelin]

We will be travelling on foot. The Dark Citadel isn't exactly generous, even to its members. Definitely no mumakil, and I'm not sure we want to mess with camels. Sevora won't, at least. She will prefer on foot to show her strength... And horses aren't the best. These people are desert dwellers and have been for their entire lives. They are accustomed to the extreme temperatures; they will easily travel on foot. They will also camp at night like any travellers. The nights are as frigid as the days are hot, if it is like any desert I know. (not an expert, either, but...) They will come to the arid grasslands as they move south, I believe. Is that good, you think?

[Nerindel]

Ok, Thanks for clearing that up Durelin [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

We will be travelling on foot. The Dark Citadel isn't exactly generous, even to its members. Definitely no mumakil, and I'm not sure we want to mess with camels. Sevora won't, at least. She will prefer on foot to show her strength... And horses aren't the best. These people are desert dwellers and have been for their entire lives. They are accustomed to the extreme temperatures; they will easily travel on foot. They will also camp at night like any travellers. The nights are as frigid as the days are hot, if it is like any desert I know. (not an expert, either, but...) They will come to the arid grasslands as they move south, I believe. Is that good, you think?

And yes that sounds great [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[Ealasaid]

I have now rewritten my first post. I hope that will be better. If not, let me know & I will see what I can do. I added a kinsman who will be joining Ahmad for the trip, so if anyone wants to take on that role (convert or resister), that's good. I'm not hung up on the name, so if you want to change it, go for it! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] (Just let me know so I can change it in my post. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] )

[Durelin]

That's good, Ealasaid. And, it has given me an idea of what to do about the tribes. I was thinking it would work out nicely if Ahmad had his Painted Sand Tribe, and Yusef would represent another to the King, so that we dictate two seperate tribes. We need a name for the other, so anyone who has an idea, please contribute. It would be nice if there was a story behind it, maybe...? And then all you tribesmen (Aylwen, Ealasaid, Pio, and Sophia) could decide which one you would be in. Also: perhaps these tribes could be close because of shared beliefs or blood? Just everyone remember: I am totally flexible and I love to experiment! I take charge only in a sense... Now I'm just trying to sound smart... Anyway, this RPG seems to have died! Mine usually do, but...what happens if we don't get enough people, Pio? It looks like we might not... [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img]

[piosenniel]

Here is what you have at the moment:

Priests/Priestesses

Durelin ------------------- Sevora(female) - Priestess

Arien --------------------- Dristi, The Shadow(female) – Priestess, age 26

Arelendil ----------------- Naramarth(male) – Priest, age 26
_____________________________________________

Warriors

Lyra Greenleaf ---------- Essenia Dagon(female) – Haradrim Corsair, age 24

Nerindel -- Ghurdan - The Black Heart(male) – Haradrim Corsair, age 24
_____________________________________________

Tribesmen Converts

Aylwen Dreamsong –--- Jasara(female) - Tribesman (convert), age19 or 20

Sophia -------- Khasia, Jasara’s younger sister – Tribesman(convert), age 16
_____________________________________________

Tribesmen Resisters

Ealasaid --------------- Ahmad bin Ishak(male) – Tribesman (resister) age 26

Piosenniel -------------- Jamílah Fajr(female) – Tribesman(resister), age 37
__________________________________________

You could have the two warriors be the leaders of a small troop of warriors (They could name the other Haradrim - say 3 each for them - but not need to write bios for them.)

We can cut the focus to one tribe (perhaps the priestlies can simply comment on the bloody trail to our tribe as they stomp out the old ways in preparation for the Eye):

Ealasaid and I could represent the Resisters of this one tribe, the old Folks; while Aylwen and Sophia could represent the Converts.

If need be, I am always game for creating a few sub-characters that my character can haul about and use at will (say my daughters who I have trained in the old ways, and their husbands . . . and heck, the grandkids, too if need be.)

Ealasaid could also do that, if she desires. As can the Resisters, as needed.

If we decide to do this, then all the names and ages of the sub-characters will have to be put on the discussion thread so people can refer to them.

What do you say to that?

or - we can simply wait until others want to join in.

Let me know -- Pio [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Durelin]

That is an excellent idea, Pio (of course!), and that will do nicely, but...I would like to wait just a little longer, but (of course again!) we can't wait too long. Thanks for the help, Miss Mighty Mod Pio!

[img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

I can also do sub characters...in fact...perhaps I will create a warrior of my own...gotta stick with the baddies, of course (again!) [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] I might post a mini-bio or something...