The Lingering Darkness Planning/Discussion Thread

[piosenniel]

*** FIRST POST FOR THE IN-PLAY RPG DISCUSSION THREAD IS AT POST #144 ***

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This thread is being opened for the purposes of planning an RPG, which has grown out of a storyline developed in the Green Dragon Inn.

Its use is restricted to these writers for now:

Ealasaid
Elora
Hilde Bracegirdle
Nerindel
Snowdog


No other writers may use this thread with the exception of the Shire Moderators.

All posts by those other than those listed above will be deleted

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid and Nerindel have agreed to act as the main co-owners for this RPG. They will be the ones I can contact about problems with or concerns about the Game.

Both of you need to be aware of this set of requirements for Shire Game Owners:

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Responsibilities of Owners/Co-owners

The basic requirement for becoming a game Co-founder (Owner) is to have played in one or more games in the Shire, Rohan, or Gondor. The moderators will look over the games in which you’ve played. We’ll be checking to see that your writing meets and/or exceeds the basic standards for the Shire. Just as importantly, we’ll make sure you have a reasonable record of posting for the particular character you play. This means posting at least once a week, with any absences longer than a week explained on the discussion thread or by PM’s to the game Owner.

As an Owner, you will be expected to check in at least once a day to the Discussion Thread and to post to the game at least 2 or 3 times per week.

You will also need to keep track of the story line and keep it moving forward so that you can meet your End Date for the Game – which is calculated from when the RPG thread actually opens and how long you estimated it would take to reach your end goal.

In situations where there are Co-owners, each Co-owner must meet the same requirements for reading the game thread and posting. You may designate a particular Co-owner who will have primary responsibility for responding to PM’s or questions on the Discussion Thread that come in from the moderators or other posters.

However, that Co-founder must consult with the other Co-founders before making any major decision such as important changes in the plotline, deciding between two posters who have applied for the same character, or responding to a note from another player or potential player indicating they have some special concerns.

This type of cooperation is especially crucial at the beginning of a game when you’re making decisions on whom to accept into the RPG. Normally, one Co-founder cannot accept a player into a game without the agreement of the others. Thus, when people apply to play, you’ll simply say:

That looks good, (NAME OF POSTER HERE). Now we’ll wait to see what (NAME OF CO-OWNER HERE) has to say.

Once the Co-owner has responded, the name can be added to the Game Players list, which will be periodically updated and brought forward on the Discussion Thread. This means the each Co-owner must read and respond promptly in the initial part of the Discussion Thread where Game Players are being taken on.

If you want to set this up differently so that one Co-owner has sole responsibility for character choices, or one Co-owner wants to take a lesser role, you can do that. But it must be spelled out to the Moderators and approved ahead of time.

If one Co-owner leaves for whatever reason, the other Owner must step in and figure out a way to take over these responsibilities. They can do this directly or take on someone else to help. If a helper is used, you’ll need to get approval from the moderator for the game.

The basic point is this:

An RPG is a team effort. There must be constant communication between Owners and Posters for things to flow well. The Owners are the most important people in a given game. There is no way you can have a strong story without having an active, courteous game Owner.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Elora and Snowdog, since you have also participated in one Shire game, I can also list you as co-founders of the game, provided you feel you can meet the above requirements.

Ealasaid and Nerindel will remain the main game owners and be responsible for the decisions made, though they would of course consult you for your input.

Hilde, since this will be your first Shire game, you would be eligible to be an owner in a following game.

Why you might want to be considered a co-owner in this game:

Writers who wish at some time to play in an actual RPG in Rohan, must first play in at least one Shire game, and then succesfully complete a game as an owner/founder in the Shire to be considered eligible to play in Rohan.

This, of course, does not include posting at the White Horse Inn, which you may do at the discretion of the Rohan moderator, Bethberry.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

By the end of your planning process, this is the Proposal Form that will need to be filled out.

I'm posting it now as a guideline for the areas you will need to cover in your planning process: (Please fill it out at the end of your planning and post it on the Discussion Thread for us, Cami and Piosenniel, the two Shire moderators to review.

_____________________________________________

SHIRE GAME WORK SHEET

Please read carefully and follow all information in The Red Book of Westmarch and in Seed Stories about gaming in the Shire before filling out this form. Please be exact in your answers.

Answer in full sentences and complete paragraphs wherever appropriate so that the Reviewers will have as complete an idea as possible of your vision of the game. Reviewers for the Games are Piosenniel (Pio) and Child of the 7th Age (Sharon/Cami).

Note please, from the Guidelines for Owners you were sent, that as owner, you will be expected to check in at least once a day to the Discussion Thread and to post to the game at least 2 or 3 times per week.

You will also need to keep track of the story line and keep it moving forward so that you can meet your End Date for the Game – which is calculated from when the RPG thread actually opens and how long you estimated it would take to reach your end goal.

SUBMISSION OF THIS COMPLETED FORM TO THE MODERATORS INDICATES THAT EACH OWNER HAS READ AND ACCEPTED THE GUIDELINES FOR OWNERSHIP IN THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF OWNERS/CO-OWNERS SHEET.

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Title:

Historical Background (This is necessary only for Games set in a time before The Lord of the Rings. It can be 2 to 3 sentences that give some basic facts about what is going on in that time period. This will help clarify the setting for the prospective players.)

Basic Storyline:

The purpose of the story is to:

This means we will know the story is over when:

Starting Location:

Likely destination:

Timeframes:

This game takes place in the ____Age at around year _______.

The storyline itself or plot covers _____ days, weeks, months.

This game requires a time commitment of _____ from me, the game owner and from the major players.

Characters needed: – be specific as to type (eg., Lothlorien Elves, not just Elves, if that’s what you need; or any other characters types from specific regions) and please indicate the number of each type you will need.

Please note for each character type needed: Race – number needed – and gender needed

Character types which would not belong:

Are there any writers you have invited to play on the game and are saving spots for them? If so, please list their names under Dedicated Characters for me. They will need to submit their Character Descriptions Forms and First Posts to me before I will open the Discussion Thread:

Dedicated Characters: (List below)

The game owner(s) will play ____ character(s). Fill out the Character Description Form completely for your character(s).

Character Description Form for owner’s character:

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:

The first post for the game:
(This should be several paragraphs long, enough to give gamers a solid sense of what the game is about and who might be involved. It should draw both readers and potential gamers into the game.)

Other information of special interest that you would like to include:

Do you want first posts for the game when the players submit their characters on the discussion thread? - YES/NO

Please note that this will mean NO character descriptions will be accepted without First Posts accompanying them. All character descriptions posted without the required First Post will be sent back to their writers.


Proposer/Owner (Please use your Barrow Downs ID):

RPGs at the Barrow Downs I have participated in are the following (if you have not, explain where you have developed your RPG skills):

Contact via PM – You must have your ability to receive Private Messages enabled in order to run a Game. We need to be able to contact you.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Here is a suggestion for the game presented by Elora.

Please note my comments in Bold Caps:

_____________________________________________

Elora’s suggestions:

Here's the rough outline I mentioned. Very much subject to suggestion, revision and perhaps complete re-work (I am known to obliterate much of my work if I decide it's not up to scratch)...


Naiore fled Mordor in the ruin that followed Sauron's downfall at the end of the 3rd Age. Unable to take ship to Valinor (Cirdan would likely eviscerate her upon sight, I daresay, making the oceans an altogether risky form of travel), she is trapped within Middle-Earth.

Naiore's identity is a closely guarded secret. Myths and horror stories circulate, commencing in proper at the Battle of Gladden Fields and growing and evolving through the Third Age. A very small circle know the reality of the person behind it. That select group is: Sauron, the White Council, Aragorn, those rare few of Naiore's kindred who live still and acknowledge that they know her (such is the shame upon her head that many do not - her parents included).

There is much to mop up at the beginning of the Fourth Age, cities to re-build, countries as well. Naiore disappears in the chaos and goes to ground, knowing that the hunt will certainly follow and that she no longer can use Mordor as a protection. She is alone for the first time in her long life, and she knows it (and loathes those that brought this to her - never her fault).

Her haunts in the south of habit are being watched for any fugitives. This forces Naiore into a course of action not of her choosing, and enrages her as control shifts from her grasp.

Her hatred of the Free Peoples grows apace. Forced to move north, Naiore is forced back through now unopressed and hostile lands. Where she can, she uses what remnants of Mordor's networks survive to help her escape, and then destroys them herself to prevent them from betraying her. A chain of inexplicable deaths, some welcomed and some not (hidden operatives working for Mordor that no one suspected) starts to emerge.

The authorities realize that someone of rank and authority, someone important, has escaped their net on Mordor, and they realize with dread just who it may be.

As a precaution, Menecin is moved to Lothlorien so that should Naiore be indeed alive and active, he is protected from her desperate rage.

HOW MUCH PROTECTION WILL LOTHLORIEN AFFORD, SINCE GALADRIEL WILL HAVE LEFT AT THE END OF THE THIRD AGE?

Naiore, who despises aimless wandering and a general lack of organization, soon settles on a new project - the destruction of her people and those descended from Numenor. The other "rabble" (common Men, Dwarves and Hobbits) are beneath her concern and she's to leave them to their own devices.

Naiore runs greater and greater risks, hunted and hunting, for there is nothing else for her than the ignominy of a life on the run (like an animal) or execution. Part of her wishes to force her people to execute her, for the sadness and grief in that act will cut as surely as her blades can.

Vanwe, in the chaos of Harad now suddenly released from Mordor's oppression, escapes and follows rumours north in a way more highly placed hunters can't. Vanwe, as a vagabond, gets all sorts of information from all manner of footpads, as she moves in search of answers and her parents.

Naiore reaches north, caught precariously between the Grey Havens and Cirdan, and Imladris and Elrond. Why she remains, though, is the untapped and untainted Shire. It's ripe for the picking, and Naiore is a woman with nothing to loose.

THE SHIRE IS NOT RIPE FOR PICKING AT THE END OF THE WAR – IT IS UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE HIGH KING, AND BECOMES A CLOSED COMMUNITY. YOU WILL NEED TO CONSIDER WHERE YOU CAN MOVE THE STORYLINE TO ACCOMMODATE THIS.
Her hand, though, is held in the Shire – AGAIN, THIS WILL NEED TO BE CHANGED TO ANOTHER LOCATION by two discoveries. The first is the discovery that Vanwe has somehow followed her (a threat that needs to be dealt with). The second, through those that follow Vanwe, is that Menecin is in Lothlorien.

Naiore uses her daughter to gain safe passage to Lothlorien. Vanwe is duped by the appearance of a kind and loving mother, the one she had wished for. Naiore's pursuers realise that Vanwe, an innocent, could die if Naiore is cornered.

Naiore is successful in getting to Lothlorien, where Galadriel is waiting for her. There, Vanwe learns perhaps the saddest truth of her neglected life: Naiore cares not one whit for her.

GALADRIEL LEAVES MIDDLE EARTH IN 3021 THIRD AGE – HER LEAVING, ALONG WITH THE OTHER RINGBEARERS IS THE HERALDING IN OF THE FOURTH AGE.

I envisage a showdown, in which Naiore attempts to strike at the heart of Lothlorien and get at Menecin. Vanwe, destroyed, throws all caution to the wind and herself upon the uncertain kindness of those who wish to see Naiore stopped. Vanwe has not had a good experience with her own kin or Rangers in the past, and so for her it is a risk she takes for there is much suspicion as to Vanwe's character (implicated in her mother's escape from the Shire).

AT THIS TIME, 4TH AGE, THERE WILL NOT BE MANY ELVES LEFT IN LOTHLORIEN – MANY WILL HAVE GONE WEST OR POSSIBLY TO ITHILIEN.

Vanwe is surprised by the mercy of those she turns to, and Naiore is prevented from killing Menecin. Menecin and Vanwe reunite, Naiore slips free by the skin of her pearly teeth.

The hunt is close behind, and perhaps with some poetic symmetry, Naiore is cornered on Gladden Fields attempting to elude her pursuers. This time, there is no marauding Black Army. She realizes that there is no escape, attempts to take as many out with her as she can. She dies in battle, fierce, unrepentant and uncowed, refusing to return in chains to the ignominy of a trial run by those she considers inferior to her.

Vanwe is left with the tattered remains of her family, a people she does not know, no home to speak of and the uncertain promise of freedom and life free of evil (much like what awaits those who survived Sauron).

Menecin, bereft, takes ship to Valinor, his daughter choosing to remain behind in mortal lands.

__________________________________________________ _____

Now, assuming all this hasn't put you to sleep here's what I see. Naiore's involvement will be in the plot, and become more and more frequent as the plot develops.

However, I see much more interesting developments in the characters and stories of those that hunt her. Why and how they hunt her. Menecin will only be a supporting character (a device to get Naiore back to Lothlorien and from there on a slippery steep, downward sliding free fall).

The stories of Kaldir, Lespheria, Amandur, Silvanis, Benia (if you think she's involved) are starting to mesh together, and they are a fascinating blend of characters. I would use Vanwe as my chief character vehicle.

Initially, most references to Naiore will be historical (accounts to her crimes in the past, perhaps from survivors or those who pursue her), memory based (again survivors, and her daughter), and briefly outlined so as to place her in relation to other characters. Occasionally, depending on what she's up to, I'd elaborate on what she's actually doing to shed some light on her complex nature (an evil Elf is not easily explained, e.g Maeglin).

YES, I WOULD NEED TO SEE A FAIRLY WELL DRAWN ACCOUNT OF HER MOTIVATIONS – AND LET’S AVOID CALLING HER AN EVIL ELF

Perhaps a hint that Vanwe or her hunters picked up would pin point Naiore in some way as being in some place. Not until they all reach the North would Naiore emerge more prominently, as until then she is in hiding (unhappily so - it's not fitting for a personage of noble blood and high rank in the competitive world of Mordor to skulk about like a starving wolf).

CAN YOU PICK OUT FROM THIS STORYLINE PERHAPS ONE SEGMENT OF THE ACTION - PARE IT DOWN - SO THAT YOU CAN ACCOMPLISH A SET GOAL FOR YOUR GAME?

THE WORKSHEET WILL BE YOUR MAP AND MINE OF HOW THE GAME WILL IN GENERAL DEVELOP – I AND THE OTHER PLAYERS WILL NEED TO SEE HOW YOU ARE PROCEEDING ON TO YOUR END DESTINATION/GOAL.

THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM FOR DEVELOPMENT OF CHARACTER AND SUBPLOT WITHIN A GAME, BUT NONETHELESS IT MUST MOVE TOWARD A DEFINED END POINT.

ALSO, THINKING AHEAD, IF YOU WISH, YOU CAN PROPOSE ANOTHER GAME SEGMENT ONCE THIS ONE IS ENDED WHICH CARRIES ON THE STORYLINE OR DEVELOPS IT IN ANOTHER DIRECTION.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

One last point I would like you to tuck in the back of your minds while your are planning the game:

I see this game as driven primarily by the interactions of the planners' characters.

Having said that, there should be room in the game for 2 or 3 other Shire writers to participate.

You planners will, of course, determine what sort of characters you will need outside your own, and you will pick and choose the writers you want to play in your game.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Open for Planning ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[Ealasaid]

Here are my thoughts on the direction the game should take:

Since it is based on the characters and events we have all been writing about at the inn, we should concentrate on those characters and use the events that occurred around the inn as a springboard into the game itself.

Of course, some changes would need to be made, such as the relocation of the inn scenes from the Green Dragon to the Prancing Pony (perhaps) for reasons already cited by Pio. Time period (i.e. when all this takes place) is another consideration.

Naiore would serve as the catalyst. She is the common element that unites these people, and, I believe, she is more than capable of leading them on a wild chase. Also, we can't forget the plot possibilities of the hunted hunting the hunters and vice versa. There's a lot of room for intrigue!

How does this sound?
Naiore somehow takes up with Vanwe, either by capture or deception, and takes off for the south in search of Menecin with the others in hot pursuit. Kaldir, for one, would be after them for a multitude of reasons, both mercenary and personal. Benia and Gilly would be carried along by Kaldir, not exactly as prisoners, but not free to leave either. I will explain that part later.

Lespheria and Amandur would also be on the trail, as would Silvanis.

I see the scope of the game being Naiore's flight to the south, her failed attempt to reach Menecin, and her eventual come-uppance at the hands of one or more of her pursuers. I think we should try to limit outside involvement beyond the characters we have here (and that we add to fulfill our "other writer" requirements), not getting too involved with armies or seiges or big names like Galadriel or Aragorn.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Perhaps, Naiore could feign a change of heart since she feels it unlikely that she will be able to go west. She might feel that she needs to reunite her “family” to save her own skin and make her look sincere. (Think Sauron after Melkor’s defeat). Or then again maybe she could be a bit repentant, but too proud or reluctant to admit it.

This way one can focus on the internal dynamics without a lot of disruptive travel and the questions of who has horses and who doesn't. smilies/wink.gif Naiore could obtain Vanwe and be moving on to find Menecin.

It could be fascinating to see the contrast of good and evil qualities in both Naiore and Kaldir, especially if the reader is kept undecided about each or possibly kept hoping for each one’s rehabilitation until the end.

Just a thought.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Ealasaid]

I really like the whole good/evil angle within individuals in the story. I think Silvanis/Hanasian would also fall into that catagory since no one is really sure what his motivations are.

Here are some of the additional character ideas I had:
*Gilly's husband Carl Banks, male, hobbit: realising his wife has been kidnapped in Bree, he takes off on her trail. He would be a few days behind the others as it would take him a few days to get the word & he would be leaving from the Shire. He might have another male hobbit traveling with him.

*Two or three shady characters to fall in with Naiore, or, more likely, who fall under her sway. Men, most likely, as "evil elves" are few and far between. They could be traveling with her and Vanwe at some point.

*Vanwe's father Menecin. I don't know how we could work him in as a regular role, but its a thought.

[Ealasaid]

Hilde: by focusing on internal dynamics, would we be staying in the North? Around the area of Bree (for instance)?

Also, just as a footnote, the question of horses is probably pretty minor. The way I see it, almost everyone has a horse, except Vanwe, Gilly, and Benia. Naiore, I don't know about, but with her track record I don't think she would have any trouble obtaining a horse or two if she wanted one. Same goes for Kaldir. He could probably get his hands on an additional horse for Gilly & Benia pretty easily.

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

[Nerindel]

Hi, everyone smilies/biggrin.gif

Ealasaid that plot sounds good.

I think going south would be to dangerous for Naiore, so would Rivendell not be a better place to hide Menecin as the remaining elves in Lorien went with Celeborn to Rivendell?

Naiore may even try to use Léspheria to get into Rivendell as she once used Lespheria's mother, especially if she finds out her growing friendship with her daughter. but there again Lespheria's growing friendship may worry her as Lespheria could teach Vanwe things that Naiore would rather she didn't know? It could also be possible that Naiore will mistake Lespheria for her mother.

I also think that we should do our bios and try to mesh our histories with Naiore together, it may help the plot to fall into place. what do you think?

[Ealasaid]

Bios are an excellent idea!

Also, good point about Rivendell over Lothlorien as the final destination. Not only does it fit well with Tolkein's timeline of postwar departures, etc, but it would also eliminate a good deal of - how did Hilde put it? - disruptive travel.

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

[Snowdog]

Hey this is great! I would have commented earlier but I had to deal with a wayward teenage son most of today.

I really like the whole good/evil angle within individuals in the story. I think Silvanis/Hanasian would also fall into that catagory since no one is really sure what his motivations are.My character will be going by the name Hanasían as I used another when I started posting at Green Dragon. His motivations are inherently good, and is a loyal servant to King Elessar having known, and rode and served his Chief before and during the war. That said, his postwar activities in searching out pockets of evil in the former occupied lands has made him a hard man, and he has learned and found evil lurking in some of the most unlikliest places. His motivation here will be to capture Naiore, having known of her for a time though she has evaded him, and his recent discovery she had a daughter.

Anyway, that is just a sampling, as I will post a bio soon, and also I have a couple ideas for some additional characters others could write. Since the Grey Company were numbered at about thirty, and there is only documented that Halbarad was killed in the war, a couple wartime Dúnedain rangers could be added as characters, with the only requirement for them is they know Hanasían and possibly Kaldir if they were old enough to know he fell at the battle mentioned at the Green Dragon.

As for the Inn, we could move the events that have happened in the Inn from the Shire's Green Dragon to say the Forsaken Inn, a days ride east of Bree on the East Raod. That way, Hanasían's riding to Bree to contact Benia's relatives is still intact, and only puts him a few days away from returning to the Forsaken Inn. The Lorien part can be changed to Rivendell, as it was never clear whether Elrohir and Elladan ever left Middle Earth.

I guess we need to frame this part and give it the scope required by the admin. I will go over what we have with Elora's overview and Elasaid's ideas. I think we have a good story started here freestyle, lets see if we can make it fit the mold.

[Elora]

Sorry for the delay in getting here. I'll leave my comments and notes until after I list some suggested additional roles.

These are just what popped into my head and so throw them around, beat them up, pin them down as we all see fit. Wrestling, anyone? smilies/smile.gif

Haradrim... perhaps a couple of men or women sent to bring Vanwe back before Naiore finds out the village let her escape comes in a wrath at their failure.

"Underworld" characters, seedy ones: the sort that may know about Naiore and be prepared to rat on her for the right amount despite the obvious risk to their lives. This would facilitate those who hunt her obtaining information (including young Vanwe)

Celeborn, who remained in Imladris with those who did not depart at the end of the 3rd Age. Thranduril is another possibility, as is Legolas and Gimli (who at this time are in Ithilien, which is so close to Naiore's land of birth - Belfalas)

Elrond's sons Elladan and Elrohir, who elected to become of mortal kin (following in Elrond's brother's choice). They remained with the Rangers in Arnor.


As I said, just some suggestions for additional characters for those who are looking to join our merry company.

Now, as for my comments, here goes:

Is the Shore ripe for the picking?

I understand that it is under Elessar's protection. However, to Naiore's persepective that means little. She has no regard for king nor queen, and particularly hates those descended from Numenor, as Elessar is.

For Naiore, the Shire represents a land largely untouched by the ravages of war that blighted the rest of Middle-earth through the 2nd and 3rd Ages. To bring to this "innocent" land where they are largely unaware of one such as she a measure of suffering would be a powerful temptation.

In aiming for the Shire Naiore would come smack up against Imladris and the Dunedain of Arnor who enforce Elessar's protection. She'd naturally steer a wide berth of Imladris though, not keen on turning herself in for justice.

So it seems Bree is a place where Naiore and Vanwe could intercept each other. It is a cross roads of sorts, and likely as far as even Naiore could get when hunted as she will be.

In Bree, Naiore will be frustrated in moving further north without forces at her command to push the boundaries in her favour. News of Menecin's relatively close location in Imladris will distract her, and Vanwe will seem like the weapon to use on her new project. (Naiore needs projects, as it's the only thing that gives her life meaning and keeps her from utter despair).

The question of Galadriel

At the time I wrote the outline, I had not yet decided when exactly it would unfold. 4th Age certainly seems to best fit for characters and plot overall, so I have suggested a location and character change (Imladris and Celeborn) to reflect this.

Showdown at the Imladris Corral

It's necessary for Naiore to not suceed here in her intentions. With Elladan and Elrohir in the north along side the Dunedain, plus those that have come from the south to bring her down, Naiore will not linger long when her plans are foiled.

It is that frustration that drives her into desperate flight and despair. She has no more projects, no capability for passage into Valinor and peace, and no peace in Middle-earth. What's more, she not a creature to renounce and admit she was wrong (a classic Noldorin trait of overweening pride that's led many astray). So, she'll run, realise that she has nowhere to go any more and stage her last fight.

Where will Naiore's Last Stand be?

Perhaps it's a little too neat and contrite, but I still like the idea of Naiore meeting her end at the Gladden Fields. That location has special significance for the character which will be clearer once I have her bio up. It's also a place where Men and Elves came together in terrible battle against the Shadow so long ago. This time, they will win.

Naiore's character

It's a sad and dark mix of some of the best and worst traits of the Noldor, with some inspiration from Saurman as well. She's not inherently evil, but she certainly became so over time. It's impossible for her not to become steeped in darkness after spending 2 Ages serving Sauron. It's Naiore's need for power and knowledge that drives her principally.

That said, she's a disciplined character, well schooled and with a fascination for darker things. She's extraordinarily sensative to the emotional states of others. She's kin to Galadriel, who is sensative in other areas. Her fascination with fear, and her people's refusal to acknowledge the more basic motiviations within themselves is what prompted her to leave their "facade" behind and go to the one creature who would leave her free to learn all she could about fear, pain, suffering and grief. For her, Sauron was a natural choice.

So, she fell prey to what she studied and darkness consumed her. She knew it, and revelled in it and the power it gave her, but it was not a perfect marriage. Naiore had never known true peace within herself as a result of her choices. It conflicts at a fundamental level with her Elven nature and she pays a heavy price for that. In that respect, she's similar to Saurman.

Her innate difference in perspective to her peers and people spawns a chasm, like in Maeglin's case. Once snared by darkness, she cannot escape and comes over time to delude herself into thinking she does not want to. That's pride, the bane of the Noldor and Feanor in particular.

So, Naiore's not evil, but she is capable of immense harm and darkness that emmanates largely from within her conflicted, damaged and isolated self. The thing with evil, though, is that it can be perpetrated by people who are not inherently evil. Evil is difficult to comprehend at the best of times, which is why this simplifcation of evil is as evil does occurs (in my opinion, at least).

It's in that belief that stories of a demon, something inherently evil, who looks like an Elf, something assumed inherently good, spring up.

Her bio will provide a clear explanation of her progression from socially isolated and curious to unrepentant servant of Sauron.

Goals for the game:

Naiore's goal will be to find peace, and the only way she can is on the swords of her foe. Humiliating as death will be, it will be immensely preferrable to suicide (not considered by Elves) or showing up to turn herself in to her people or Men. Besides, she'll get great pleasure in making those of the vaunted Free Peoples take an Elven woman's life, and in someway cast question over their high ideals (which she views with immense contempt).

So for Naiore, she will move north as quickly as she can. At first she will be elimidating any lingering informants that could close the net on her. She'll also be hoping to start a new wave of terror in the Shire. She'll then change plans in view of Vanwe and Menecin and in doing so meet her end.

Naiore will find Umbar is too dangerous for her with new management in town, pushing her north. Naiore will move through Belfalas, her home land, and possibly Ithilien and again move north as it will be too "hot" for her to remain. She'll drop by Dol Amroth, and perhaps be so bold as to venture into Elessar's city (undecided). Rohan is a stomping ground of hers, which will also prove too "hot", pushing her to get through Mirkwood and across Eriador to Bree. From there it will be to Imladris and perhaps back to he Gladden Fields.

For Vanwe, her goal is to find some trace of family and survive the wreckage her mother makes of that to forge a life of her own away from the captivity of the village in the Haradwaithe. So, she'll trail her mother until they met up at Bree.

Future RP's

As Ealasaid has mentioned, this RP draws a number of characters together and will likely draw out possibilities for future RP's. From the point of view of my characters, Naiore's story ends with this one. The only way to move there is backwards. For example, Naiore's involvement in the Gladden Fields disaster of the 2nd Age.

Menecin takes ship also, ending his tale, so again only retrospective possibilities are around for RP's. For example, how survived three separate encounters with Naiore (one resulted in Vanwe, one nearly killed him and the last killed her) after she had chosen to serve Sauron. As he studied under Maglor (being a bard), there's First Age RP possibilities there connected to Maglor.

As for Vanwe, her life is just beginning in earnest at the end of this RP. How does she pick herself up and move forward? She remains in Middle-earth. Where does she go and what does she do? That's perhaps the most "un-written" character of the three.

I'll post bios for all three soon. I'm working on an opening post too.

The reason for all that homework is my impending absence. I'll be incommunicado from 7/29 to 8/8. So I'll have my first post done and sent to someone (probably Snowdog if that is OK by him) so my absence doesn't delay anybody else.

Phew, what a mouthful of comments!

smilies/smile.gif

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

[Ealasaid]

Okay...Thanks, Snowdog, for clearing up a couple of questions I had. Hanasian's motives (and name!) are pretty clear. With that scenario in mind, it would make sense to have him travelling with 2 additional Rangers. That's a good idea for additional characters. That way, the new writers won't be constricted too much by any of our pre-conceived notions. It would be good, too, if they had at least a passing knowledge of Kaldir, either from pre-war experience or having met him when he was bringing in fugitives.

I, too, was worrying how to work in Benia's Bree connections and still have the Inn action take place at the Prancing Pony. Using the Forsaken Inn would solve that. I like it!

Elora: thanks for the additional character suggestions! I would tend to stay away from using Celeborn or Elrond's sons as regular roles for writers because it would be difficult and constrictive for the writers. We could use those individuals as recurring figures who are present and figure in the action, but not as regular characters... kind of like carry-along characters, where anyone can manipulate them & use them as needed.

Kaldir is there on behalf of the Haradrim who want Vanwe back. Having more Haradrim on her trail would seem kind of redundant. (Just my opinion.) But I do like the idea of the seedy Underworld characters. That's kind of fits in with my earlier suggestion of a couple of evil types who fall in under Naiore's influence. They could (maybe) try to suck up to her on one hand while trying to figure out a way to turn her in for the bounty on the other hand. How does that sound?

As far as Naiore's & Vanwe's travels up from the south, it sounds interesting, but, if we start from the inn, they are already in the north. We need to carry the action forward from the Inn.

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

[Elora]

Good points Ealasaid! smilies/smile.gif

I rather like the idea of some treacherous underworld characters who are as ready to turn on Naiore as she is on them.

There may be someone willing to take on a established character. As Celeborn and Elrond's sons were somewhat mysterious and not as elaborated upon by the great Professor, it would be possible for people to work within what character boundaries if they wish.

However, it will be entirely workable for us to use such character as points of reference for those we are playing (recognisable non controlled entities) and perhaps preferrable to handle it this way. Referencing them at all will simply better tie this RP into Middle-earth events and locations.


On location, where should we start this RP?

A long and protracted journey north could be a little dull, unless we build action into that and character entry points for individuals who hail from throughout Middle-earth.

Some alliances between characters may form, and perhaps change and evolve over time as it all unfolds.

We could just as easily start closer to Bree, or thereabouts, and create the earlier journey as a backstory in our posts.

[Elora]

Here we go - Character Profiles. Hopefully the dates and years all cross reference and match:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? - Yes: Green Dragon Inn, Corsets and Corsairs

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Elora's character - Naiore

NAME: Naiore

AGE: 6,450 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS:
Naiore possess a range of weapons. She carries a curved long sword of Noldorin make and numerous daggers. She is at all times in possession of a long silken cord she uses as her garrote. She owns a range of torture devices, some made for her and some she invented herself over the years. Most dangerous of all is her ability to sense and manipulate the emotional states of others. She is expert in breaking apart the spirit and souls of others, inflicting pain to an infinite degree.

Naiore has adapted the typical amour of her people to suit her needs. She blends a light, finely wrought chain mail with leather. Her amour is as black as the unlit night.

APPEARANCE: Naiore is fair by Noldorin standards. She is said to be reminiscent of Galadriel in he beauty. Her hair is golden and hangs to her waist. Her eyes are a starlit silvery grey, wide, clear and large. She is slender and deceptively strong for all of her fragile beauty. Her voice is velvety and her skin is without flaw. Naiore usually wears a serene expression that belies the intensity of what passes through her mind.

Naiore favors opulent clothing, silks, velvets and brocades. She often wears jewelry, and was an incongruous figure as she passed through the halls of Barad Dur in her finery. She has exquisite taste and prefers luxuriant indulgences. Even her amour and leather are impeccable. Despite her work, Naiore is fastidious and has not great like of blood and gore. When not in amour, Naiore resembles the highly born Elven noble woman she is.

However, her inky amour is known throughout the southern lands and is etched on the minds of survivors. It is that, combined with her serene expression and emerald eyes that most remember no matter how much they crave to forget.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Naiore is a complex blend of some of the strongest abilities and worst flaws in her kindred. She is a self-possessed and highly disciplined character. Ambitious and driven, she has contempt for weakness such as she sees it. She is manipulative and exploits her appearance whenever possible. Naiore has a formidable intellect, and is calculating. Her curiosity and need for knowledge are what rules her. She has a fascination for the baser darker and wilder aspect of life.

Naiore has no time for crudeness or other indecency. Indeed, she can be the soul of decorum and sophisticated grace until such time as she is murdering you. Naiore is a loner, rarely forming any lasting relationships. She avoids openly lying where ever possible, but uses deception readily. Naiore is tenacious. She refuses to admit defeat.

She has considerable contempt for rulers and nobles, and an implacable hatred of Numenorian and Eldar alike. A sensualist, Naiore’s weakness is for finer things in life and beauty. She believes herself superior to most around her. Any compassion or capacity to love is hidden deeply. Naiore is an Elf who believes all is lost and henceforth she has nothing to loose. The only limits she observes are those she sets herself.

HISTORY:
Naiore was born 12 S.A in Belfalas during the time where her people started to rise to dominance. Elven cities were being founded across the land and it was a time of great hope. She was born into a noble family, her father and mother both holding a place at Gil-Galad’s court. Naiore was also born with the ability to sense the emotions of those around her. This ability grew as she did. A serious child, often lost in her own world, she was doted upon by both parents. Naiore was both fascinated and slightly repulsed by other people. She sought few friends and had little regard for the opinions of others.

As she grew older, her mother began to wonder about her daughter. They tried to induce Naiore to participate in the society in which she had been born. Whilst she was not openly rebellious, she found ingenious ways to avoid or discourage such ventures. As her gift grew, Naiore noticed a discrepancy between the façade of civilization and the inner emotions of those within it. She became fascinated with impulses that many refused to acknowledge existed within themselves. The forbidden nature of her inquiry seduced her further. When her forays became too confronting, Naiore was prohibited from further investigation.

It was then that Naiore realized that she was somehow wayward and different. She became more isolated, and developed contempt for the apparent foolishness of her parents and kin. Meanwhile, she continued to explore the more fundamental aspects of personality such as fear, anger, pain, greed and lust. Her pride grew, and she discovered she had a certain power from this knowledge. In particular, pain attracted her. It was so prevalent in those who had survived the First Age.

During this time of secret forbidden knowledge, Naiore met and became betrothed to Menecin, another who was different. War was brewing over the sea, and Naiore could sense a power growing. It tempted her. Proud and contemptuous of her own kindred, Naiore sensed that many of her forbidden questions could be asked and mayhap answered by this new power. Then she would have new knowledge and with that so much more. The alternative was a stultifying life as wife to a wandering, itinerant bard whose insights into the emotional jungle were limited to songs and poems. Or perhaps she could beg leave to serve as Galadriel’s hand maiden. It was not enough.

She waited as war loomed larger and larger. She became distant, for she had already left. Her ambitions always traveled far ahead of her. On a stormy night, Naiore abandoned Belfalas in the year 3429. When Sauron returns to Middle-earth, Naiore is waiting for him. As Menecin and her people sought her, Naiore found herself in a new place. She was both welcomed and mistrusted. It amused Sauron greatly to have an Elf in service with orcs. She was tested, time and again, and grew in stature within Mordor.

Her special talents were encouraged and grown. She became adept at interrogation and torture. She was able to plan and execute terror campaigns that could not be left to orcs nor even entrusted to Wraiths. Naiore sought one answer in particular. She would often ask victims in the throes of their last moments, “From where does fear spawn?” The answer never came, but her hunger for it did not abate. Sauron used her throughout Khand and Harad, to inspire obedience and terror in the lands under his yoke. She worked alone, and proved gifted. Her discipline, ability and determination made her a horrific weapon and she ranged widely.

Naiore entered Rohan for the first time in the year 3430 S.A and there began to bring Mordor’s insidious terror to the north. She preyed for long years upon the Men of that land. Rumor of her spread, but it was not until the Battle of Dagorlad that Naiore openly emerged. She fought with Sauron’s hosts against the Last Alliance, Elven fair with foul shadow at her back. She slew Elf and Man alike, in the grip of terrible desperation. Her kindred saw her and recoiled in horror at what she had become.

At the defeat of Sauron, Naiore fled south with those that survived. Barad-dur was under siege. She plunged into Khand and Harad, where her terror still kept the Men there compliant, and waited. She could sense Sauron still and she had nowhere else to go. Naiore slipped into Dol Guldur over the long years, and once again aided Sauron in her addictive search for power and knowledge. She made one detour that was not at Sauron’s bidding, and it is rumored that she did this more than once.

Naiore encountered Menecin. She all but destroyed him through deception, cruelty, manipulation and suffering. She thought him dead when she left him again in the year 2091 T.A. When she discovered she was pregnant, she believed it was Menecin’s revenge from beyond the grave. She kept all knowledge of her pregnancy to herself. Her competitors in Mordor would use it against her. Elven fundamental beliefs prevented her from ridding herself of the child. Naiore went back to Harad, much to the wrath and chagrin of Sauron, and bore Vanwe. She sensed her child’s gifts could perhaps rival her own. Naiore made an arrangement with the remote village. They were to keep Vanwe there, in perpetuity, or suffer her full ferocity. That arranged, Naiore returned to Mordor and Sauron. Vanwe’s existence was secret.

The fall of Sauron brought Naiore’s career to a sudden end. Gone was her stature and position. Gone was the protection Mordor offered her. Gone also was the reason she lived. She had no answers still, and the prospects of ever finding them seemed remote. Naiore again went to ground, this time utterly alone. Her people were leaving, yet she had no place with them. Her foes were hunting for her, and her usual safe haunts were no longer safe. Bereft of ambition, and having sacrificed everything for knowledge she did not have, Naiore is faced with a crisis. She had been waiting for the day when Sauron would have dominion over the lands. Revenge on those who had taken her future from her galvanized her into action. As she set about, Naiore learnt of a land called the Shire, citizens of which had engineered this ignominious defeat. Once again, she sets herself a northward course, choosing that over accepting defeat. The Shire would be made to suffer more than Khand, Harad and Rohan ever had.

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Elora's post for Naiore

The morning shadows proved stubborn despite the rising of the sun in her summer glory. Naiore made the most of what little providence seemed availabled in their existance. She remained still and at relative ease in the embrace of a shadow cast by the ancient bole of a fig tree. It loomed massive over her, surrounded by the adjoining woods that carpeted the land around the inn she was watching.

Some may account it a pleasant place. For Naiore, it was a land of failure and frustration, a wretched place and she had little love for the tree or anything else that lived within it's bounds. She was difficult to see, folded as she was in morning darkness. Her inky leathers bore the stains of hard travel. Mud daubed her boots, all but obscuring the delicate silver tracing a vine up her boots. Her state and presence gave rise to a great many questions, the answers to which Naiore did not greatly care to entertain as she cast a simmering glance towards the Forsaken Inn.

Rangers, cursed scions of Numenor, had pushed her hard through the wilderness. She had managed to elude them, her skills tested as they had not been in the past 12 years. Still, although she was for the moment safe, she was far from pleased. It grated to be sitting beneath a shedding tree encrusted with mud. She should, right at this moment, be running in free abandon further to the north. She should, as she sat in darkness gathering her wits and thoughts, be bringing a new tide and era to a land that had escaped the harsher ravanges of war.

Naiore flicked a braid back over her shoulder, it's golden weight added to the other seven that hung down her back. Instead, she had been cheated of even the small prize of the Shire. Rangers and her own people conspired to hem her in and bring her down like an animal. They would take, bound hand and foot, to face justice as the ignorant liked to call it. There was no justice. Those who sought it were fools, nothing more. If anything, two ages spent in the turmoil of Middle-earth had taught her that.

She who had held such power in countless lands, mastered terror and was mistress of the hounds of war and hell, sat in a cold wood. Even had she tried for the Havens, she could not penetrate the bristling ring set in place by Elessar around the Shire. His name curdled in her mouth. Twelve years spent running for this!

Naiore raised starlit grey eyes to consider the Inn once more. Her face was impassive, as often it was, carved elven beauty remarkable even amongst her own kin. Her face had beheld horror untold, she had wrought it with her own hands, for reasons few could understand. Now she sat waiting for an incipient snare to spring, dirty and desperate but not without her pride. She wore that like armour. It had gotten her through before this day.

The Inn was quiet in the early morning. Her gaze shifted to the stables, where it was said her daughter was. Naiore could see no sign of Vanwe just yet, but her sources were adamant. They well knew the price their lies would earn them. It was a difficult death at the hands of a Ravenner, merciless at the pinnicle of Sauron's Order of terror and suffering.

Somewhere was a Ranger too, one she knew. She had expected to find Kaldir skulking in the forest. Such acts were not beneath him as they were her. The presence of both Kaldir and Vanwe was not a coincidence that could be ignored. She should have killed the whelp when she was born, unwanted by-blow that Vanwe was. The idea that some long buried maternal instinct prevented her was laughable should the consequences of her restraint not be so perilous.

Vanwe should be well south, in the desolate Haradwaithe, kept with the goats and the barbarians she had left her with. The fact that she was not, had left and survived the journey north and eluded capture told Naiore much. The fact that Vanwe was known to be tracing her told her more. She would be a woman now, mature and no longer a helpless babe. Perhaps she could use Kaldir to put an end to her and her threat. She could see to Kaldir after that.

But the fallen Ranger would need to be pushed, if only to see past his immediate mercenary loss in Vanwe's death. It remained to be seen if she could achieve that. He had proved difficult to break, those years ago. Kaldir was a rare challenge, one she had enjoyed then as she hoped to soon now.

Naiore waited out the morning. Soon they would rise and begin their days. Vanwe would appear. She worked in the stables, assisting a man who was no real threat for the likes of Naiore. Kill Vanwe and Kaldir, attempt again to push north without a tail, and see if bloodshed could not find the Shire afterall. She was without any other purpose, and she would pursue this with a breathtakingly singular will that proved stronger than steel.

The Free Peoples could not hope to contend with her. Sauron himself had never truly conquered all of her heart and soul. Menecin neither. In the face of all she had endured and perpetrated throughout the wars of the Second and Third Age, rising time and again, ceaselessly vigilant in her quest for knowledge that had consumed her life, achieving the death of her daughter and Kaldir was nothing but a light aside.

Perhaps, Naiore mollified herself, one of them held what she looked for. Perhaps they could tell her from where fear spawned. It was unlikely, but possible. She held to that, for it made the ignomy of her failure in recent months to reach the Shire, her fugitive life since Sauron's fall lesser. How they would have laughed to see her reduced to such a state, provided they escaped her with the facility to laugh intact within their bodies and souls. She could endure a rough night and hard travel if it meant the achievement of all she had endured and suffered for.

Whilst her riddle of fear circled in her head, Naiore watched from the trees still garbed in morning shadow. She needed but the slightest opportunity to begin, and she had tired of idle waiting and ceasless flight.

_____________________________________________

Elora's character - Menecin

NAME: Menecin

AGE: 6,729 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS:
Menecin possess the weaponry expected of an Elf who lived through three tumultuous ages. He has a sword and bow and daggers, all of Noldorin make. His amour is typical Noldo, a combination of light steel and leather worn by all who fought in battle. At the opening of the 4th Age, he has all but forgotten weapons and amour.

APPEARANCE:
Menecin is a tall Noldo by their standards. He has the dark hair of his people and their fairness also. His eyes are a piercing blue sapphire and they see far indeed. He is not powerfully built, but is by no means thin or weedy. His hands are long fingered and deft, a mark of his profession and ability. His voice is deep and musical and his smile, when it is seen, is as bright as the lamps of his people.

Menecin’s clothing reflects his Elven heritage, although in latter days he pays it little attention. He wears the natural fabrics favored by his people in deep shades of jewel color. Menecin favors royal blue, and has done since he was a boy. He is no stranger to elaborate court garb, however he prefers more functional clothing by habit. In the times he roamed the land, he went clad as a hunter and warrior, for he was a little of both at that time.

His trademark possessions are his richly carved leather pack, in which he carries his papers and music, his flute made of mithril silver and his lap harp which he carries over his shoulder in a beaten and scuffed hard leather case.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Menecin was born at a time when Elves were discovering Men in Beleriand. He is well acquainted with the Edain, wandered amongst them. He showed his gift for music at an early age, something his parents thought held extraordinary promise. He was a quiet child, peaceful and patient. He learnt quickly. He had little to say, and most of that he said through his craft as a bard. Those around him realized that when he did speak, Menecin was an individual that bore listening to. He had an artist’s insight and perspective. Fostered by Maglor, Menecin attained a first hand understanding of the depth of grief and woe that beset the Noldor, the Sons of Feanor in particular. He is no stranger to sorrow and strife.

Menecin’s solemn nature sometimes seemed fey. He formed few close relationships and was not a man given to whim. What he did, he did with all of his being, possessed as he was of great passion and the strength to feed those passions.

He is a capable fighter, terrifying when battle merges with a passion. He fought in the First Age where necessary and acquitted himself well at such times. He has little interest in such reputations though. He acquired an air about him that resulted in few people wishing to trifle with him. He was quiet, possibly dangerous, and liable to see things exactly as they are no matter how bleak that may be.

He is sometimes seen as taciturn, and is stubborn. He resists being led. In recent years, Menecin is a shell of his former self. He has lost his passion for life, but cannot bring himself to let go of mortal lands. He is dangerously melancholy, given at times to bouts of black rage that consume all around him. Those few whom truly know him see a stranger. Many think him insane, until they see the entirely sane streak of agony in his eyes. There are few who can withstand his glance now, and what little music he puts his mind too is achingly painful.

HISTORY:
Menecin was born in 305 F.A during the time of the “Long Peace” in Beleriand. His birth coincided with the emergence of Men, and so Menecin grew up at a time when the Noldo were discovering the Edain and times were relatively good for the Exiles. His parents were of good standing, although not high born. They discovered his musical promise and he went to be fostered by Maglor to study the craft of the bard. There, Menecin developed a reputation for his musical ability and his love of language.

Menecin also discovered the tragedy of the Noldor. His mentor was bound by the terrible oath that caught all Feanor’s Sons. The Long Peace ended, war fell on Beleriand and the oath claimed Maglor. Menecin fought battle and acquitted himself well in that time. He was habitually quiet and somewhat grim, and had little time for merriment during the First Age. The tragedy of his people touched him deeply, particularly when he turned away from Maglor towards the end of the First Age. In this time, Menecin started to emerge as a gifted composer and musician.

Menecin decided to remain in Middle-earth, restless and unready to go to Valinor with the bulk of his people and his parents. He drifted with the remnant of the Noldor to what is now known as the Bay of Belfalas. For a time, Menecin again knew peace. His reputation grew and he rose in status in the court of Gil-Galad. Menecin largely kept to himself, the merriment of the feasts interesting him little. From time to time he would wander the wild places of the world.

It was as he returned from one such a journey that Menecin first encountered Naiore. She was at that time a maiden. Like him, she had little taste for feasts and had strayed from one on that fateful day to wander in a stand of fir trees by the shore of the ocean. As she danced over the sand to the wind singing in the fir trees, Menecin watched. Beautiful even amongst her own kin, he knew himself lost as he watched her move. He added his voice to the song of the wind, and a courtship was begun.

Menecin found cause to remain in Belfalas and not wander. He found in Naiore a muse of sorts. She fascinated and captivated him, most unlike the other maidens of their people. She was of noble blood, descended from Finarfin, and he harbored little hope of marrying her. Yet, Menecin sought her hand and to his enduring surprise was granted Naiore. They became betrothed in 3262 S.A, the year that Sauron was taken as prisoner to Numenor. Unrest after a long peace was stirring again, and Menecin decided to wait until that unrest had calmed before he wedded Naiore. It proved to be a fateful decision.

Menecin, an experienced warrior from the First Age and now betrothed to a noblewoman, found his responsibilities in this time increased. He was drawn into Gil-Galad’s court and there he felt the winds of war blowing around him. He noticed a change in Naiore too, something he attributed to the growing strife. He knew his love was sensitive to such things. Menecin did not discover that Naiore had vanished until her distraught father came to him seeking his daughter.

Thinking that she had fallen prey to the growing shadow that Numenor was falling rapidly under, Menecin abandoned court in search of her. His search failed, as did that of his kinsmen. Haunted by guilt and grief, for Menecin loves deeply or not at all, he refused to abandon hope. War returned to Middle-earth with Sauron, and he became embroiled in the Last Alliance as did many of his kin for he followed Gil-Galad.

Menecin was not at the battle of Gladden Fields. Word came to him after that terrible battle of Naiore. She was alive, it was said, and she fought with Sauron. Scandal and shame gripped her family. He could not believe it, and did not. Her family renounced her as a traitor, and her parents fled to Valinor in horror. Menecin was outspoken in his denial and it earnt him disfavor. He forsook court and embarked on a series of searches for Naiore.

At the time that Ithilen was abandoned in the year 2901 T. A due to orc incursions from Mordor, it is known that Menecin encountered Naiore. He barely survived. The refuge of Henneth Annun found him all but dead on their doorstep. The Men aided Menecin as best they could. Menecin went north, seeking death, and found instead Lothlorien. Recognized, he was taken in and there held under protections should Naiore return. He was also protected from himself. Menecin sank into hopelessness, depression and rage.

He refused to go West at the end of the 3rd Age without Naiore. Unable to take him out of his madness, he was left at Imladris with those few who remained behind. Menecin barely spoke by that time, and his music lay dormant and silent within him.

_____________________________________________

Elora's post for Menecin

The stars were perhaps their most beautiful in early morning. Menecin had remained sleepless through enough nights to make such assessment with certainty. Imladris was peaceful. He was not. It was an irony that never failed to shred what little grip he had on lucidity. The rage and grief twisted upon itself a little tighter. It never got tight enough to stop.

If he stilled, he could hear the breathing of those that watched. As he studied the clear morning sky, he wondered not for the first time what they watched for. They were waiting for the storm to break loose. He knew it for he saw it in their eyes when they thought he was not watching. He never stopped watching though. To stop would be to surrender to the dark fog that sinuously seeped into every thought and dream.

Beside him lay a lap harp. He had left it out all night, instead of covering it from the cool air. A harp such as this deserved better. This harp had played with Maglor. Maglor himself had overseen its construction, had plucked it's strings. Menecin plucked at a string himself. Maglor had gone mad. He had watched it unfold before him. Another irony that did not escape him. He was following in Maglor's steps, but he had taken no terrible oath other than to love her.

Her face was carved upon his memory, as was her voice and her scent. He could feel her upon his skin still. Menecin's eyes closed, the ache rising. She was there, just beyond his touch. No evil was in her that could be seen. Yet her actions were filled with such malice of intent. The rage sharpened and the grief. She was there but was lost, as was he. Adrift in pain, the world shattered by love, vast gaping wounds in his spirit that did not heal. Neither did he die. Even in her pain there was no mercy.

"Perhaps a song to welcome the day will grant what succor sleep did not this night, Menecin."

He could not keep the bitter smile from his lips as he struggled to keep what raged within him in abeyance. The savagery must have shown in his spahhire eyes. It was a brutal light that was revealed to one of the many who watched over him.

"There is no more music," he snarled in reply. The expression of shock was to be expected. Menecin saw it too often to expect anything less. He drew himself back, sealing off his senses. A few short hours, when night was done and the day not yet begun, he allowed himself. He would awaken within him, undead, unalive, in the transitory hours of each day. He would float. He had been brought to anchor by the Elf who had watched him through the night.

Menecin unfolded his tall frame, clad in the customary finery of a skilled bard who had performed remarkable feats of bravery and courage. Wisdom gleaned from three Ages in Middle-earth blended with his distress, making him dangerous to any and all, including himself. He turned, and walked unhurridley back towards the chambers they alloted him at Imladris. Their comfort was barely noticed by Menecin. All was hell.

Behind him, in the eastern sky, day's blush had begun. The stars winked out, one by one, and he withdrew into himself. The startled Elf trailed him, wary and concerned with the bard's beloved harp cradled carefully in his arms. Menecin closed the door to his bedroom firmly. The Elf found the harp's aged and battered case and gently placed it into it's wardship. He straightened, looking at the wooden door that sealed Menecin away from the world.

As many had done before, he shook his head in sorrow. A hint of the bard's formidible passion and greatness had emerged, only wracked with anger. All of it was brought about by one woman, her name no longer spoken. Her bounty price was the highest ever set. No trace of her though, apart from the trail of ruin she left scattered through the lands. For her, he suffered. The Elf seated himself at a nearby table and inked the quill that waited.

Next to the date, he recorded his observations.

"No change, no glimpse of relief, only rage."

His quill hovered a moment and was then set aside. He did not add the other comments that filled his head. Instead, what he did record was the latest on a page filled with similar comments. Books spanning decades, hundreds and thousands of years, contained the same dreary pattern. How anyone endured such torment, refusing to believe that she was indeed what she was known to be, defied imagination. It would have been better that he did not survive. Sometimes, it is best if the healers fail.

The Elf rose once more and stoked the small fire in the grate to warm the room for the next who would watch Menecin. Within his room, Menecin sat disconsolately with his thoughts and attempted to free himself from madness that always loomed and never swooped to relieve him of self-awareness. He longed for it with a need that shamed him.

_____________________________________________


Elora's character - Vanwe

NAME: Vanwe

AGE: 120 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS:

Vanwe possess a belt knife only, but will make do with whatever is to hand as she needs to. That includes anything or sometimes nothing, all depending on where she finds herself. Her limited wealth and propensity to leave in haste wherever she may be makes it difficult to accrue and keep any possessions, weapons included. Uneasy with weaponry, she prefers to avoid it if possible.

She has no armour apart from her wit and survival instinct.

APPEARANCE:
Vanwe is in many ways her mother’s daughter. She possesses the delicate beauty that is the hallmark of Finarfin’s descendants. Her hair is spun gold that falls long to her waist. Her face is evocative of her mother also. She has ivory skin, delicate facial bone structure, high cheekbones and high brow. Her eyes are a deep blue, sapphire, courtesy of her father. She is tall and lithe.

Vanwe’s clothing reflects her childhood in the Haradwaith. It is simple, worn and somewhat sparse by Elven sensibilities and custom. Her stature in the Haradwaith was low, and so she wears no gold or any jewelry. Vanwe wears a simple periwinkle blue cotton dress, acquired on the road when her southern clothing was in imminent danger of unraveling and brought much suspicion upon her whilst traveling. Gondor was still skirmishing and fighting with the Harondor in the opening years of the 4th Age. She also has heavy cloak, cotton, the colour of which is now indistinguishable. This is also acquired, at the time of her flight from the Haradwaith, and is her only protection from the weather. It shows signs of hard use and wear, much like her dress, and once was a deep indigo blue in kinder times. It has a deep hood in which Vanwe shelters from the elements and unwanted inspection and dwarfs her slender frame.

Vanwe wears worn boots on small feet of brown leather. They are light, for the heat of the Haradwaith and not well equipped for the cooler north. She has a belt of brown leather with a sturdy and distinctly mannish design. From it hangs a pouch and her belt knife, whatever else she has stowed there.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Vanwe is an unusual character for an Elf, attributable to both her parentage and how she was raised.

She is decidedly wary of strangers, a product of her upbringing. She has a keen intellect and a thoughtful demeanour. She can be withdrawn and shy, but once she warms to a person she is generally of good cheer. Vanwe is a little unsure of herself and has learnt that meekness can work to her advantage.

She is slow to trust, tends to underestimate herself and expects cruelty from other which she blames upon herself.

However, if nothing else Vanwe has the remarkable ability to survive most things. She is tenacious and when she believes she is cornered she is fierce. She has a natural affinity for music, inherited from her father. Like her mother, Vanwe is able to sense what cannot be seen. In her, this emerges as an ability to heal. She can sense injury and illness as “wrongness” and can manipulate it back to the way it seems it should be. This sensitivity is something she has inherited from her mother and her distant relative, Galadriel.

Vanwe often carves wood as an outlet for her anxiety and distress, finding the shapes she senses within them and setting them free, another example of her abilities. She has a love of beauty and peace. Vanwe is a skilled observer, quiet and fleet footed. Nimble and flexible, Vanwe can earn a living in a number of ways as she is quick to learn.

She is not criminally inclined in a general, but survival sometimes necessitates petty theft that plagues her with guilt even if it does fill her stomach. She can make a good living on the docks and streets with thievery, but this is a risky lifestyle for a lone young Elven woman and so she will exhaust other options first before resorting to theft. She has an aversion to authority that is hard to shake and very much prefers to slip into and out of places unnoticed as a general rule.

HISTORY:

Vanwe is the daughter of the infamous Naiore Dannan. Her mother was of extraordinary beauty and ability, related by birth to the mighty Elvenwise Queen Galadriel. Yet, Naiore chose instead a path of darkness that shamed and horrified her people and terrorized those she came to prey upon. Vanwe is the result of a nefarious union between her mother and the bard she had been betrothed to prior to her betrayal of her people. Menecin had never accepted Naiore’s choice in his heart and had pursued her through the years both in an effort to curtail Naiore’s activities and prove to himself that the woman he loved was not malevolent and twisted.
What came of that is not known to Vanwe, only that Naiore fell pregnant with Menecin’s child.

The Terror of Mordor for reasons known only to herself decided to bear the child and so Vanwe was born. Wanted in Gondor, Rohan, Mirkwood, Lothlorien, Rivendell, Hollin and the Shire, Naiore fled south into the heartlands of her chosen Master. In Harad where she had preyed unstoppable upon the people, Naiore delivered Vanwe in a small and isolated village, remote from the North and also Mordor. She remained long enough to instill such terror in the villagers so as not to dispose of her daughter and then vanished. Vanwe was abandoned without explanation once her mother was certain Vanwe would not arise in the future to trouble her. Her mother saw her as a potential threat and she never considered her daughter as a possible ally.

Vanwe was not welcomed by the villagers. Elven and the daughter of such a feared creature, she was treated with suspicion and resentment. The villagers saw he as some kind of demon spawn. She represented everything they feared and loathed of the north, of murdering Elves and of Mordor. Vanwe's differences from the children of the village were marked.

This only reinforced the chasm between her the people around her. Yet the possibility of Naiore returning to wreak her vengeance upon them was more terrifying than the quiet and sweet natured Elven child. In her early years, before she understood just how cruel people could be to that which they did not understand, Vanwe was given to laughter. This soon faded as she grew older.

Vanwe was cared for, in a fashion, collectively by the village. It was far from a happy childhood. At best she was isolated, alienated and feared. At worst, she was hated as the scion of evil and was the village’s scape goat for any and every disaster that beset them. Lest she exploit their weakness, Vanwe was treated with harsh discipline.

Being strong and clever, Vanwe soon proved of some use to the village. She readily took to the work given her, eager to earn some regard or reprieve. She was trusted so far as to tend to the animals. Life in Harad under the yoke of Mordor is harsh. Outsiders, especially possibly malevolent ones, were a threat no village wished no matter how beautiful the child. When visitors came, she was hidden away. Vanwe was excluded from celebrations and all meals. She ate alone, worked alone, with the exception of those instances where she had somehow come to the attention of the villagers through misfortune or misadventure.

She was seen as a possible bad luck omen by the superstitious villagers. Illness or untimely death in the village was also her doing. Her emerging abilities only further alienated her and inspired further mistrust. Mordor had been instilling in the people of Harad myth and lies about the people of the North, particularly Elves, for generations. Naiore had been the principle agent of that fear campaign, and her daughter paid a costly price. Yet it was the only home she knew, and so Vanwe remained.

As the years rolled past, Vanwe found the fragmented yet vivid memories from early childhood that were empty and devoid of a mother or father did not fade. Like all Elves, she lived them when she slept. An innate curiosity about her own roots grew within her. For a long while, Vanwe spoke to no one of her desire to know more about her origins. When at last she ventured a question, she was hurried into an emergency Village Council and stood before the Village Elders. It was then that she learnt of the terrible woman that was her mother. To the villagers, Naiore was akin to a demon and they saw her reaching for her terrible doom.

Vanwe emerged from that grueling night with their stories, fantastic and seemingly improbable, spinning in her mind, torn and bruised. The Villagers, concerned that Vanwe’s approach to maturity over 100 years would bring her mother back, prompted the fearful re-telling of tales about her mother, some were accurate and some had accrued embroidering of details.

For Vanwe, the shame was an intense pain that haunted her every step. No one could tell of her father, and her questions only grew in number. She grew steadily more determined to get to the bottom of it all, and come to know the truth of both her mother and her father.

When the spring celebration of a good season came to the Village, Vanwe slipped free amidst the bustle as the Villager’s got on with their annual celebrations. It was the year 3021 T.A. Young by elven standards and poorly experienced, Vanwe’s first months of freedom were both terrifying and dangerous. She emerged from the perils of innocence and a hard road in one piece mainly by the grace of providence and her sharp wits. She always learnt her lesson quickly.

By chance or design, Vanwe gravitated towards to coast. By sheer good fortune and determination, she survived the waste of Harad and came to Umbar, where she picked up the trail of her mother. She found employment, shelter and food by whatever means necessary. It was a precarious existence, but it was free of the village. She resolved never to return that hell again.

Vanwe was becoming adept at mastering her environment to varying levels of control. On the coast and particularly in the docks of Harondor, Vanwe excelled in survival. She slowly made her way north, earning passage on a ship to Dol Amroth. Quite unaware she was in the original homeland of both her parents, whom hailed from the Bay of Belfalas, Vanwe set about searching out any little thing she could of them. It was not long before she realized that it was not only the villagers that loathed and feared her mother’s name. Vanwe spent some time in custody, suspected of being Naiore. It left an indelible impression upon her, her new freedom replaced by dank cells and bars.

Across Gondor she drifted and then through Rohan, a land that had particularly cruel experiences with Naiore Dannan. Vanwe learnt to be more circumspect and cautious with her inquiries. However, she asked a wrong question of the wrong person and it brought her to the attention of the Riddermark. The experience taught Vanwe that she may as well be her mother by the time she wiggled free of the mess. Her appearance only worked against her. With a now strong aversion to soldiers, warriors, lords, bailiffs and any other possible authority figure including the Village Elder, Vanwe continued to drift north on the scant trail left by her mother.

She slowly gathered information on Naiore and Menecin. Rumors conflict, suggesting that one or both are dead and simultaneously alive and in hiding. Where and from what depended on who she spoke to. It is a frustrating puzzle, and Vanwe is not helped by the fact that she feels it necessary to mostly avoid the lands her mother is still wanted and hunted in. In those lands, particularly those of Lothlorien and Rivendell, a young Elven maiden cast adrift in the wide world could learn much. It is precisely those places that Vanwe assiduously avoids.

The recognises the latent threat in Rangers as she moves further north, another peril to navigate. She also fears that the village are hunting her. Out of place in the world of Men, strangely odd to her own kindred and treated as most Elves are by most Dwarves, she moves on the ebb and flow of the current of the mortal lands.

She strives ever to learn but it is the haphazard and unpredictable manner of her circumstances, tossed hither and thither, that is perhaps her undoing. She is terrified of the very people that could aid her and show her the place that is hers in the world.

_____________________________________________

Elora's post for Vanwe

… The water dripped in a regular ceaseless rhythm throughout the day, the night and the day. It was broken up by the scratching of rats in the straw, perhaps a wet and hacking cough nearby or a croaked song that had taken possession of a man’s voice and raised it like a tattered flag of insanity against the reality of the bars. Torchlight flickered fittfully against slick and dark stones as through the flames resented their presence, free as they were from the bars but locked in damp darkness. They would come by regularly, sometimes relighting torches that had rebelled and gone out. Some brought a hard bread that was passed through the bars. That marked the beginning of another day. Sometimes it was water. That marked the night. It was race to claim bread or water before the rats did.

In that bleakness, a spider spun a silken web in the far corner of her cell. The strands caught the intermittent torch light, tiny gems caught in the web to dazzle unwary observers. It would float in the icy blast of wind that raced down the passage every time the outer main door would open. Then the sound of boots would start, counter tempo to the dripping water. There had been a lot of boots on the stone one morning after the bred had been pushed through the bars. The tiny jewels in the spider’s web became fiery with torch light that they had brought with them. She remembered that. It was beautiful, even if everything else was not and she had smiled faintly in that grimness to behold it.

The men had golden hair, like hers in many respects and yet not. It fell thickly around their shoulders, sometimes braided. Her own was a more delicate shade, lighter in weight and smoother in texture. Some clutched helms under their arms. Their torches glinted off mail. It was not as fair as the spider’s web. She remembered a saying as she took in their grim presence. Silk was stronger than steel. She looked into their faces and wondered about that.

One of them had produced a large iron circle. Many keys jangled discordantly from it. He fitted one to the lock at her bars. The others stepped back, hands tightening around sword hilts that jutted from their belt encircled hips. She looked back up at the spider’s web as the door creaked in protest at its opening. Two men stepped through.

“On your feet,” one roughly ordered in Westron. He glowered at her. She did as she was told.
“We need more light,” the other one spat over his shoulder. Men slowly stepped closer to the bars. They held their torches out, relucant to cast light on those within. She was struck by the realisation that they did not really want to see what they thought they were going to.

“Move but a muscle and you die,” intoned the man who had first spoke. She believed him. The other renewed his grip on his hilt, swallowed hard and stepped forward. He tipped her chin up, his fingers hard and rough against her skin. She stared blankly ahead, not daring to breathe. She heard movement, the sound of paper being folded.

“She is reported as claiming her name to be Vanwe,” he said. Doubt was in his voice, tempered also by suspicion and a dangerous anger that could flare brighter than any torch at any moment. Vanwe could smell it. She knew its scent well.
“Perhaps it is so, Farald. Look at her,” urged the man who held her chin so tightly.

“I’ve seen that face often enough,” the other replied heavily. She heard the paper bunch in his fist.
“Then by what sorcery did she achieve this?”

She saw two faces crowd her vision. They peered at her in silence. One shook his head as the other released her chin. She sagged back at the sudden change in balance, recovering quickly. A curse hissed in the silence, and somewhere else someone laughed blindly to fill the hole that insanity left in his mind.

“Silence,” roared one of the men in her cell. He cast her another glance. She lowered her eyes and mentally withdrew. If the anger came now, it was best she was not here. She knew what that glance meant. It was best if she was far away when it started. It was easier.

“It is not her Farald,” the other said.
“You had best hope that it is not,” Farald spat. He turned on his boot heel and stalked from her cell.

“What about her,” a man called after him.
“She can go. If I find her again, she’ll not fare so well. Rohan has had more than it’s share of the wider world and it’s Elves.” His voice floated back down behind him. There was a blast of air as the main door was opened. The men followed him, boot steps filling the prison's sagging emptiness once more. One remained by the open door to her cell.

“I would be swift, were I you. This is no place to dawdle with the doom of Rohan on your head,” he said. He walked away, a slow and measured tread. She watched him open the main door and pull his helm on. he had reports to make. Naiore Dannan was not in custody as they had thought. Those who already readied the gallows would have to wait a little longer. After 12 years and centuries of suffering, a little longer was both an instant and an eternity.

Vanwe ran then, the wind at her heels. She ran running fast, past grass and trees and village. Faster and faster, away from Rohan who nearly hanged her in mistake. Away from Umbar and the slave galleys where soldiers had nearly sold her when their error in her identity was known. North, where her mother had gone it was said and perhaps where her father was buried. Mirkwood, loomed ahead of her. It would be an arduous task to avoid those within it…


“Come Vanwe, the horses are missing you and will not take their breakfast!”

She groggily pushed herself up and out of her bed and dreams. Morning light shone through the open hay doors in a warm puddle. Pulling her dress over her head, Vanwe climbed down the ladder from the stable loft as the Deruvin chuckled good naturedly outside in a giddying contrast to her recently left dreams and rememberances. She pushed open the stable doors, stretching as she did so, and turned back to see to the horses. Some whickered at her as if the innkeeper had spoken truly. Vanwe smiled quietly and soon had the stable’s guests on their way to the day pasture.

She returned to an empty stable, collected rake, shovel, buckets and broom and began the morning’s work. Soon, the spider that sat in one of the many webs in the stable’s rafters had her song to keep her company. Vanwe hummed it, a lilting southern melody as she worked. It was odd, to have fled Rohan only to finish here, tending horses of all creatures. In the sunlight the cold memory faded a little and her song picked up strength. The spider caught the early morning rays in its web to lure and bewilder wandering breakfasts, lunches and suppers as the Elf worked below.

Her thoughts wandered. What would the day bring? Would she be any closer to what she sought? That was an interesting question. What did she seek? Sometimes she thought it was peace and freedom, but then there would be neither without knowing of her parents. She had accepted that fate long ago now. As she swept and raked, her song shifted to a more merry melody.

Would the Ranger return today? He had said he would return and wished to speak with her. She was unwise to seek his company, for Rangers had proved as perilious as the soldiers of Gondor and the Riddermark of Rohan. Still he had spoken gently and did lay upon her shoulders the crimes of her mother. He did looked at her and did not see only her mother's face. He had given her the name of a star.

Vanwe's song was ended by a call from the Inn.

"Vanwe, hurry! Cook's wanting to know why you haven't had breakfast and she'll accept no explanation from anyone else!"

She quickly stowed the broom, rake, shovel and now empty wheelbarrow and raced from the stables towards the inn with a contrite expression on her face. Cook was determined to have her resembling a hobbit in girth. Her golden hair streamed behind her as she crossed the intervening distance on long legs, rubbing her hands on whatever skirt material came to hand hastily.

Vanwe pushed open the door to the inn, spied Cook waiting with stern expression in place and entered. The inn door closed on her words. "I was just seeing to the horses!"

"Those horses eat better than you do, missy! I expect an Elf to have more sense than a herd of shaggy ponies and mismatched horses."


_____________________________________________

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

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Ealasaid]

Elora - I take it that you will also be writing Menecin, then? In all likelihood, he would not be entering the storyline until we get closer to Rivendell. The main action needs to center around the characters from the inn.

Also, we need to start the action from the inn, picking up from where things currently stand. That will serve as our starting point. We can make some minor changes as needed, but, since this is not exclusively the story of Naiore & Vanwe, it would be the most logical place to start.

You can refer to your characters' journey northward in flashback as much as you like.

Here are where things currently stand:

Vanwe is an employee in the stables at the Inn (whichever one we use). She has been there some weeks.

Naiore has just arrived near the inn. She is concealed in the trees just off the inn grounds.

Lespheria & Amandur are guests at the inn. Amandur suspects Naiore's presence in the region but is not aware of her proximity. They are preparing to depart on business of their own.

Kaldir stables his horse at the inn, but does not have a room there. He is close on Vanwe's back, intending to capture her & return her to her captors in the south. He senses the presence of Naiore, but is not sure of her identity. He would like to either catch or kill Naiore (he's not particular) for both personal and mercenary reasons.

Hanasian has not yet returned from Bree, where he went on the request of Benia. Like Kaldir, he stables his horse at the inn, but does not maintain a room there. He, too, is interested in capturing Naiore, but is not yet aware of her presence in the vicinity of the inn.

Benia has been captured by Kaldir and lies bound in the basement of an abandoned blacksmith shop nearby. For the purposes of the game, I will change her broken ankle to a sprain so that she will be more mobile more quickly. She is unaware of the presence of Naiore.

Gilly has taken up Benia's father's sword and gone in search of Benia. She is currently following Kaldir. Like Benia, she is unaware of the presence of Naiore.

Menecin is being held in the protection of Celeborn & the elves, currently off the stage of the inn.

Pio has offered to lift our posts directly out of the inn & place them in the Game Thread for us. I was thinking that that would probably work, except for the changes that would need to be made, e.g. Snowdog's name change, Benia's ankle, and names around the inn, etc. I will ask her what to do about edits, in the event we decide to use our inn posts in the game.

Thanks for the excellent Bios, Elora. Now, the rest of us need to get our Bios up. Once that has been done, we need to sort out where the action will go from where things currently stand.

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

[Ealasaid]

For additional characters open to other writers, how's this?

2 Rangers to travel with Hanasian

2 Shady Underworld Types to take up with Naiore, both to serve her & (they hope) turn on her for their own gain

Elrond's sons & Celeborn can figure in the storyline & be present, just not as central characters. I can see Menecin having interactions with them, as well as the others, particularly Lespheria, Amandur, or Hanasian, as the action gets to Rivendell.

How does that sound?

[Nerindel]

Wow

Everyone this is great smilies/biggrin.gif

Léspheria will leave without Amandur, she will wish him to keep a watchful eye on Vanwe, but she will not go far when a messenger will intercept her with a message from her brother, telling her to stay and help Amandur. which she will do reluctantly of course.

I will try to get my bio's up Tomorrow. smilies/smile.gif

[piosenniel]

There will be no need for me to take your posts out of the Inn.

Since they are in under your names, you can use the 'edit' function of the post box and copy and paste them to WORD, then change them as needed and paste them on the Game where you feel they belong.

All I will need for the Discussion Thread is the Game's First Post, and the First Posts for the Dedicated players for this game, which will ALL be submitted on the Game Proposal Form.

Nice going everyone. And I do agree with this comment:

Elrond's sons & Celeborn can figure in the storyline & be present, just not as central characters.

Actual characters written by Tolkien would need to be written by someone well-versed in the exact way in which Tolkien wrote them - and when you do use them in reference to your other characters, extra care needs to be taken that they are not presented outside the parameters that Tolkien set for them.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

I will also need to rework a few things in the Green Dragon posts. Bywater is a long way from home for Gilly! smilies/wink.gif

Her bio is in the works and time permitting will be ready tomorrow.

Should our modified first post be PM'd to Ealasaid then?

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[piosenniel]

It would probably be better at the moment if you placed just your character bio on the Discussion Thread.

I'm thinking that perhaps everyone's actual first post needs to wait until the general storyline for this game is firmly established, and possibly at least until whoever is going to write the First Post that opens the Game has done so.

Just my suggestion, though. Ealasiad may want to proceed in a different manner.

[Snowdog]

I actually have some internet time today so I will try and get the bio of Hanasían taken care of and also get caught up in Corsairs.

A few comments and requests...

About the Inn: I would prefer we use the Forsaken Inn as "the Inn" and be our starting point. We can either transfer and tweak the story so far presented in the Green Dragon to there in order, or synapse (?) them into our first posts. I prefer using this Inn at first as it was a mysterious place and only mentioned once on the Lord of the Rings when Strider tells the Hobbits that it was a "a days journey east of Bree". It keeps intact Hanasían's journey to Bree as three days.. a day to get there, a day to seek Benia's relatives, and a day back to the Forsaken Inn. Of course a "days journey" I believe is by foot travel since Aragorn states that it takes him 12 days from Bree to the Ford of Bruinen. This could conceivably be cut in half by horse travel.

Concerning the two other Rangers: It has to be understood to the writers of these characters that they are war veterans, as I believe our time frame is the same as that of the Green Dragon, which is ten years after the War of the Ring (?). They are loyal to the King and fought against evil, though they do not necessarily have to be one of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war (Halbarad said the thirty were "...all of our kindred that could be gathered in haste..." ). They have deep friendship with each other and Hanasían, as well as the sons of Elrond Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers twenty years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible Battle from the some of the older Rangers who were there. Outside of that, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

Concerning the Sons of Elrond and Celeborn: Surely anyone actually writing for these characters need to know of their character traits, and so I would agree they should be only background non-controlled entities that only appear as minor roles in the story. That said, the fact that the sons of Elrond did ride and were very close to the Dúnedain Rangers having ridden with them in numerous battles through the years, it would not make sense to not have their mention be a part of this story. As Pio said, anytime any major character (mentioned by Tolkien anytime in his writings) As for Celeborn, I believe he did dwell in Rivendell at this time, and in lieu of not having Celeborn in the story, a good Elven character (other than Menecin?) who was under Celeborn could be included in this story? Just a thought.

Concerning Blackveil (Hanasían's horse): She does not take too well to stabling and usually is left to graze free. smilies/wink.gif

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

Here is the Bio:

_____________________________________________

Snowdog's character - Hanasian

NAME: Hanasían

AGE: 39 Born the first day of Víressë, year 2990 of the Stewards Reckoning. (1390 Shire Reckoning)

RACE: Men, Father's line - Dúnedain of the North
Mother's line - Rohirrim

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword of Westernesse, Rohirric bow, an Elven knife and a Knife of Khand.

APPEARANCE: Rugged stature, and seemingly worn for his years. Long hair that is seemingly dark but has a sandy, lighter look in sunlight. Its length is to his lower back, sometimes tied into a tail, sometimes not. Of average height as far as Dúnedain go, around 6 feet and well built about 200 Lb., and is well built from the many years of training, then battle. Wears dark-gray rough leather pants and sleeveless vest and black worn leather boots. He has an Elven cloak he uses, but at times wears one of local custom. A scar he has on the right side of his throat where he was wounded in the Battle of Pelennor Fields.

PERSONALITY: Hanasían is usually rather quiet, but says what he means when he does speak. He handles a horse well, and is an excellent bowman from a mount as well as standing. He could move with great stealth for a man and was hardened by what he had seen and done before, during, and after the war.

STRENGTHS:He handles a horse well, and is an excellent bowman from a mount as well as standing. He could move with great stealth for a man having learned much from the sons of Elrond and he could battle well with knife and sword. He had a good tactical mind, was not afraid to take chances as long as it didn't endanger any save himself.

WEAKNESSES:Hanasían liked to drink and carouse and was sometimes seen in the less desirable places as a depression overtook him since his wound in the war. There was rumor that the blade of the Variag that almost had his head was tainted with some exotic herb unknown in the west, but his strength of mind usually kept his depression at bay. His somewhat shaded activities when on his own time were never harmful to others and was his way of dealing with himself and all he had experienced.

HISTORY: Born in the wild near Lake Evendim in the year TA 2990 (1390 Shire Reckoning) He was the second of three children of Halasían, Ranger of the North, and Lady Forcwyn of Rohan. His brother was much older than he, and he would not meet him until the battle of the Corsairs in the War of the Ring. His younger sister was born a year and a half after he, and there was hope that his father and mother would heal many wounds between each other in those days. But the darkness that held Halasían did not let go of him, but was only asleep for a time. One day he came back from hunting with worry on him, and he gathered what little they had and made their way to Rivendell, where Halasían sent his wife and two children forth, and was never seen again. Hanasían was raised in Rivendell for a time, for though Forcwyn desired to return to her people in Rohan, travel was perilous, and she stayed until Hanasían was nine. He learned horsemen skill from her kin in Rohan, and returned again to Rivendell some years later to study and learn the arts of the Elves and train. After a couple of years he started to ride with the Rangers, though at a fairly young age, for the times were ever darkening. He learned much skill from the Rangers, of which many of the elder ones knew his father, and he also refined the arts of the bowmanship he first learned in Rohan, and the skills of silent movement from Helladin, an elf friend from Rivendell. These skills made him pretty good at covert ops before, during, and after the war and unlike his father, he was relatively good hearted. Having rode with the Grey Company in the war, and having assisted Rohan during the battles of the Isen before meeting up once again with Halbarad and the Rangers riding south, he proved himself time and again in battle, and was always taking the initiative to scout out ahead.

In the war, he met his older brother who worked the ships in Befalas, and together they battled and sailed the ships up the Anduin and did battle upon the Pellenor Fields. It was here his brother Hayna was slain, not far from where Halbarad fell, and Hanasíian was himself wounded and thought dead. But he was discovered after the battle trying to stand, and he was taken to the house of Healing in Minas Tirith.

He recovered from his wounds and attended the high functions and weddings of The Chieftain and now King Aragorn and Arwen, and also that of Faramir and Eowyn, whom he got to know during the days of healing. Though a seeming depression had come over him that those close to him could feel, he wished to stay in the King's service and he remained in Gondor with King Elessar. He would often visit his mother and little sister in Rohan. He could see the years gain on his mother quickly after the war, she having grieved the death of her firstborn and never quite was the same. He wished not to burden her anymore and so started to visit less and less. But he still found satisfaction tending to the King and the Steward and business of the realm, and would partake in missions long into the freed lands of Rhun, Khand, and Harad, but also north to Dale and west to his home in Eriador, for he sought always the remnants of lingering evil wherever it may be. It was during this time while investigating an incident in Rohan near his mother's did he first find knowledge of Naiore, and began to pursue her through the lands.

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Snowdog's post for Hanasian


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

[Ealasaid]

I would prefer we use the Forsaken Inn as "the Inn" and be our starting point. We can either transfer and tweak the story so far presented in the Green Dragon to there in order, or synapse (?) them into our first posts.

I agree with Snowdog there! I was thinking it would be a vicious job trying to edit, cut, and paste all of our Green Dragon posts together in the right order. How about we each just write a fresh first post that explains (in brief) how each character got to where they are, what they are doing, & why. Then we pick up the action at The Forsaken Inn where we left off. Maybe handle the catch-up information in flashback?

Is everyone agreeable to that?

On that note, I also agree with Pio:

I'm thinking that perhaps everyone's actual first post needs to wait until the general storyline for this game is firmly established, and possibly at least until whoever is going to write the First Post that opens the Game has done so.


Maybe we should hold off on writing the first posts until we know the general direction the storyline will take.

Snowdog is right that we should put some pre-existing conditions, such as what he described, on the characters we are opening for outside writers. The Rangers must be old enough to have fought in the War and have a pre-existing friendship with Hanasian. The Shady Underworld types must know in advance that they are first to seem loyal to Naiore, only to be plotting against her at the same time for their own gain.

Elora, would these characters be killed by Naiore? Or do you want to leave that part open-ended to see where the story leads? If they are dead men from the start, I think it would be only fair to let the writers know in advance. Personally, I would like to leave it open & see where the story goes. But that's just me...

First Posts (when they do get written)should be put up here on the Planning thread,rather than PM'd to me, so that we can all see them before they go on to the Discussion Thread. That way, if there is something amiss anywhere we can all see it & be in on the fix.

Does that sound fair to everyone?

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

[Ealasaid]

Concerning Blackveil (Hanasían's horse): She does not take too well to stabling and usually is left to graze free.


Oops! Sorry, Snowdog...my bad! smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaid]

I will try to have Benia's & Kaldir's bios up sometime tomorrow

[Ealasaid]

Back to storyline for a minute...

Moving forward from the Starting Point, so far, we know:
Lespheria will leave the inn alone, only to be turned back by a messenger from her brother who will inform her to stay with Amandur in the search for Naiore.

Gilly will be captured by Kaldir as she attempts to rescue Benia.

Kaldir will go back to the woods where he sensed the presence of Naiore
and try to pick up her trail.

Hanasian needs to come back from Bree (with his cohorts?), find Benia missing, and pick up Naiore's trail.

Elora -- what will Naiore's & Vanwe's next moves be?

Those are some the specifics. I guess what we really need to figure out are some of the major plot points.

This is just an off-the-cuff sample (feel free to maim it or build on it to your hearts' content):
ACT 1: Lespheria Departs.
Hanasian returns to the inn with his cohorts.
Kaldir captures Gilly.
Naiore & Vanwe meet up.

ACT 2: Naiore takes Vanwe and heads toward Rivendell to find Menecin.
Kaldir returns to the woods & picks up Naiore's trail.
Hanasian & Amandur also learn of Naiore's presence (possibly through Vanwe?)
Lespheria returns.
They all depart (in separate groups) in pursuit of Naiore.
Gilly and Benia accompany Kaldir as his prisoners (sort of)

Act 3: Naiore takes up with the two Shady Underworld Types (how does Vanwe feel about this?)
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him.

Act 4: As they approach Rivendell, Naiore changes her focus & begins to plan how to get at Menecin.
Perhaps Lespheria & Amandur join forces with Hanasian's group? They ride ahead to Rivendell to warn Mencin & Elrond's sons.
Shady Underworld Types begin to plot against Naiore.
Kaldir continues to track Naiore.
?? Gilly & Benia try to talk Vanwe away from Naiore ?? (This would be an attempt to help Vanwe, but I imagine Vanwe would view them with suspicion as they are traveling with Kaldir)

Act 5: Naiore makes her attempt to kill Menecin. She fails & flees, deserting Vanwe.
Kaldir, who has not entered Rivendell, picks up her trail.
He is joined by the others, who eventually corner Naiore for a final showdown, where she falls.

How's that for a start? Please jump in with your comments, suggestions, & ideas.

[Elora]

I agree the Forsaken Inn seems the most suitable starting point for this RP.

I think we need some reference to the historical figures of Celeborn, Elladan and Elrohir. Perhaps NCE's si the best way to achieve this. However, sometimes there are historical character "experts" milling about who know their famous character inside out.

The underworld, shady characters aren't necessarily prey for Naiore, unless she uncovers their treachery of her, or their death achieves something for her. She's not the safest of allies.

This is not to say she hasn't already been happily and busily murdering informants, merchants and minor lordlings who once fattened their coffers by selling information and limited aid to Mordor. Those characters will be past tense references and NCE's.

Menecin will be "off stage" for a while. I'd have to ask that should someone wish to play him, that they get in contact with me so that I can fill them in on a few things detailing the character. He's not, by rights, my own creation. I act as a "custodian" of the character, of sorts, which was created by a dear friend who is no longer with us. I've been trying to keep some of his creative work alive for others to enjoy, which is why I've taken Menecin under my wing on this board.

It didn't to me that someone would want to take Menecin on, given the nature of character (wound about with two of mine) and the circumstances surrounding his creator. I'm certainly not saying that noone else can write him.

I'd just ask that if anyone did like the bio and wanted to give it a try, I'd need to be certain that it would work (for the memory of my friend) and that they were aware of the things concerning the character that do not fit into a standard profile (to help them get into Menecin's head, so to speak).

Now, about that story line. I'll do some homework on that to pull my thoughts together. smilies/smile.gif

Here's some initial thoughts on Vanwe and Naiore.

*Naiore will have been frustrated in her attempts to get into the Shire. She's learnt that Vanwe is also loose, nearby and that Menecin is alive and close at Imladris. Her pursuers will be getting close, the place relatively crawling with the Rangers she so hates. Naiore will suspect a trap set for her by her enemies and Vanwe. That is what brings her to the inn.

* Her plan to kill Vanwe outright alters when she realises that Kaldir is also there. Those two know each other (if we use what's already set down at the Green Dragon Inn) as Naiore was Kaldir's principal tormentor when he was captured by Mordor. Her plans change when she learns that Kaldir is hunting her daughter for Harad and revenge forms in her mind.

* She takes Vanwe, hoping to lure Kaldir away from the Inn and perhaps vent some of her rage (stress relief Naiore-style). When she realises Vanwe is better bait for others at the Inn whilst alive and she can snare more than Kaldir with that bait, she alters her plans once again. Her ambition becomes to destroy Imladris, killing as many Rangers and Elves as she can.

* She dupes Vanwe, who is desperate for parental love. When Naiore engages assistance from scoundrels, Vanwe begins to wonder and doubt. Her options are few and poor. If she escapes Naiore, she looses any chance of parental bond as well as falls possibily into Kaldir's hands. Naiore makes sure Vanwe knows that Kaldir is following and hunting her.

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Ealasaid]

Elora -- with that history in mind, it seems to me that you would be the logical person to write Menecin. I would hate to see someone else take a character (that you obviously have an emotional attachment to) astray.

Between Kaldir & Naiore, knowing their past experience of each other, it would definitely be a case of "who can destroy whom first".

Something to think about: Naiore might be able to get to Kaldir through Gilly and Benia. Kaldir (he hasn't figured this out yet) is beginning to fall for Benia. That is why he has not killed Benia outright & why he would bring her with him, even though he can move much faster alone. Gilly is there primarily because he catches her trying to rescue Benia & doesn't know what else to do with her. If he lets her go, she'll send out an alarm. If he kills her, he'll never stand a chance with Benia.
Hence, Kaldir, the old rattlesnake, becomes vulnerable.

[Snowdog]

I like the way you two think! First Posts go here in the planning thread, and they and the kick-off post should cover any significant historical events that may pertain to the RP before the time of its start. The events as posted in the Green Dragon should be included in a fashon to give this story continuity.

As for pre-existing conditions on the other Rangers, they are few and leave plenty of room for the writers to do with them what they will. As to how/when Hanasían meets them, I would like to leave it up to thw writwers of their parts as to whether I meet them on my way back from Bree, or they are already at the Forsaken when he returns.

The layout looks good, but lets keep the specifics somewhat flexible as to how they happen.

"Kaldir (he hasn't figured this out yet) is beginning to fall for Benia."

Does that mean Hanasían doesn't have a chance? smilies/wink.gif just kidding. Could stir up some interesting developments.

As for the rest of the forum pre-plan, here is what I am thinking.

Title: Shadow of the Past

Historical Background: With the downfall of Sauron, evil fled disorganized before the might of the West, but there were surely some who, having been corrupted, still stirred here and there, especially true of lands long under the grasp of Mordor. This story is an account of one such encounter in the years after the War of the Ring.

Basic Storyline: Servants of the King pursue the evil in the lands, and here a few Dúnedain Rangers, veterans of the war, pursue one who has stirred troubles about the lands but remained elusive... Naiore. Others become entangled in her trail as well, both with her and against her, and it moves on through twists and turns to a final showdown.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

This means we will know the story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed, and is brought to Rivendell.

Starting Location: Forsaken Inn

Likely destination: Rivendell

Timeframes:

This RP takes place in: the Fourth Age, year 12 with this storyline starting in Midsummer and covers a span of a... month? 6 weeks, more? less?

This RP requires a time commitment of: a couple months (I say to a proper conclusion whatever it takes) from the major players.

I should leave all this up to Elasaid, but I had to lay down some bits for my mind to relate to. Being this grew out of the Green Dragon, I think its right to have it the same timeframe.

Anyway... I'm off to bed. This all looks good so far. I only hope the RP goes well and we not get hung up on too many small details.

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Elora]

Flexibility is an important point you've raised Snowdog.

A rough outline of Acts is a great guide for us all to refer to. Besides, Snowdog's left the door open for Naiore to live past ultimate capture (cue evil, speculative chuckling)

Naiore will most certainly use anyone and any means to achieve her ends. For her, the ends justify everything and she believes herself above the common place and "misguided' moralities of others. She'll use Gilly only if she thinks she Gilly will not prove a thorn in her side. Once tools prove a liability, Naiore disposes of them without a second thought.

Naiore will use Kaldir too as far as she can. For example, when she takes up with criminals as she plans her attack on Menecin and Imladris, Vanwe will start to wonder about things. Naiore will be certain that Vanwe knows that Kaldir will snatch her up should she escape. The idea of returning south frightens her more.

An idea has just occured to me.

Naiore will not be able to just wander into Imladris and there wreck her ruin. She'll need someone to get her in.... someone like one Vanwe.

Of course, once Vanwe is sent out, she could wander into anyone in the wilds around Imladris... Kaldir.... Rangers.... Elves... Gilly.... Benia....Menecin (who may have given his watchers the slip to wander the empty forest)

Another idea, Naiore attempts to enlist Kaldir's aid, with the intention of betraying him and all the rest later on, at the Forsaken Inn...

Lespheria will attract her attention when she realises that it is not just Rangers who trail her as she makes from Imladris.

As for Menecin, I hope I don't sound too possessive over the character. I guess I just hadn't thought about anyone else writing him and made assumptions that may be incorrect. If someone really wants to take him on, I'm not against the idea. It would be dishonest of me if I did not say I would approach it with caution and I felt I needed to say why that was.

It wouldn't be fair if I didn't make that clear to somebody who ponied up to write him at the outset.


Oh, and one final thing. Contrary to stated opinion, I don't think. I make it my business to avoid thinking. But I can see why Snowdog likes the way Ealsaid thinks. smilies/wink.gif

[Elora]

This is me signing off as earlier advised.

I'll be away from 7/29 to 8/8, at a workshop that I've received funding to attend in order to refine authorial skills (desperately needed too, I might add).

Some parting thoughts.

Perhaps we need to consider characters for the Forsaken Inn. At present, people such as Vanwe and Lespheria work at the inn. Their worlds are inhabited by innkeepers, other staff, stablemasters and the like.

At the Green Dragon Inn, characters are tied to the grounds of the inn. In this RP, it may be possible for people to expand their characters and their story, through the wider scope of the RP.

My suggestion is that we consider additional characters that populate the inn, such as there are at the Green Dragon. Certainly other inn staff can serve as NCE's, but if there is the possibility to explore interesting character I think it would be great to include them beyond the limitations of an NCE.

smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaid]

"Kaldir (he hasn't figured this out yet) is beginning to fall for Benia."

Does that mean Hanasían doesn't have a chance? just kidding. Could stir up some interesting developments.


I didn't say anything about how Benia feels, did I? smilies/wink.gif

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

[Ealasaid]

Another idea, Naiore attempts to enlist Kaldir's aid, with the intention of betraying him and all the rest later on, at the Forsaken Inn...


This would never happen. Kaldir does not feel many emotions, but the one's he does feel are powerful and extreme. One of the things he does feel is hatred for Naiore. If he ever got close enough to talk to her, he would kill her outright.

[Ealasaid]

Title: Shadow of the Past

Historical Background: With the downfall of Sauron, evil fled disorganized before the might of the West, but there were surely some who, having been corrupted, still stirred here and there, especially true of lands long under the grasp of Mordor. This story is an account of one such encounter in the years after the War of the Ring.

Basic Storyline: Servants of the King pursue the evil in the lands, and here a few Dúnedain Rangers, veterans of the war, pursue one who has stirred troubles about the lands but remained elusive... Naiore. Others become entangled in her trail as well, both with her and against her, and it moves on through twists and turns to a final showdown.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

This means we will know the story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed, and is brought to Rivendell.

Starting Location: Forsaken Inn

Likely destination: Rivendell

Timeframes:

This RP takes place in: the Fourth Age, year 12 with this storyline starting in Midsummer and covers a span of a... month? 6 weeks, more? less?

This RP requires a time commitment of: a couple months (I say to a proper conclusion whatever it takes) from the major players.


I'm for using this pretty much as is, editing out the questions, of course. Thanks, Snowdog!! Great work.

[Ealasaid]

Perhaps we need to consider characters for the Forsaken Inn. At present, people such as Vanwe and Lespheria work at the inn. Their worlds are inhabited by innkeepers, other staff, stablemasters and the like.

At the Green Dragon Inn, characters are tied to the grounds of the inn. In this RP, it may be possible for people to expand their characters and their story, through the wider scope of the RP.

My suggestion is that we consider additional characters that populate the inn, such as there are at the Green Dragon. Certainly other inn staff can serve as NCE's, but if there is the possibility to explore interesting character I think it would be great to include them beyond the limitations of an NCE.

Good suggestion, Elora! Initially, I was thinking we could just change the names of the Green Dragon personnel & leave it at that, but I do like the possibility of expanding their roles (NCE) as needed.

Be thinking of names, etc, for the inn personnel. We all need to know what they are in advance, as those people figure into many of our inn posts. We need to come up with parallels for:
Aman
Derufin
Ruby
Vinca Bunce (Cook)
I think that should cover it. As far as other people around the inn becoming involved beyond NCE status, let's not get carried away. Too many central characters make the game confusing & difficult to follow. With 12 active characters, including all of ours and the 4 new roles we have already discussed, I think we have more than enough to draw on. The two underworld types can come from the vicinity of the inn, if you like. We have not decided where exactly they enter the storyline at all.

[Snowdog]

Yes, we may want to keep the Inn personnel to NCE (Non-Controlled Entities for those not familiar with the acronym). it would be interesting to have writers play the bit parts, but it could easily get confusing as well. As for the nature of the Forsaken Inn, it is (to me) by its name a bit seedier than the fair Hobbit Inn of the Green Dragon. I could go on a disertation on my thoughts of the Forsaken, but since it will only be a starting point, it wont be necessary at this time.

Oh, I only submitted that write-up as a working model and it does need tweaking. Since I'm not very good at this time limits and time committments thing, any suggestions would be helpful to fill in the rest of this.

As for the actual start of the RP, we should make sure we all will be available for a stretch to get things started.

And no, Benia didn't say how she felt... smilies/wink.gif

[Nerindel]

ok, I'm still trying to iron out a few things with Amandur's bio and I'm covering hol's at work which is not helping smilies/frown.gif

But I do have a few comments:

I would think The borders of Rivendell would still be protected and only elves and rangers would be permitted to go freely, as for Vanwe is it not likely that she would be mistaken for Naiore?


Another thing I have been thinking about is Naiores final demise. is this to be our scripted ending? And if so who will it be that kills her?

heres an Idea, As Elora has already suggested that Naiore would have satisfaction in being killed by her kin I could see her trying to insight Léspheria to this end through the revelations of how she used and broke her mother, to which Léspheria will on behalf of their kin will turn her back on Naiore and hand her over to the Rangers to be taken to Minas Tirith for trial. At this I see Naiore in her rage attempting to strike Léspheria down, to which one of the others would (Hopefully :eek smilies/smile.gif intervene. I was thinking maybe Kaldir, as his hatred runs deep or Amandur, who in case you haven't already guest has fallen in love with Léspheria.

Ok, I have to go back to work now but I will get back as soon as I can.

you guys are doing a great job, so far everything seem to be moving in the right direction smilies/biggrin.gif

[Snowdog]

Its tough having to squeeze work between the important things in life like a budding RP story smilies/wink.gif I know... *looks to see of the boss is coming...

I was kind of hoping to leave it a little looser in the script to say that Naiore may or may not be killed in the end. That is why I put the part of Naiore being brought to justice. I think it takes too much away from the interim writing if we already know she dies and who kills her. Its kind of like reading the last chapter of a book first. Just trying to keep the intrigue and the 'fog of possibillities' alive in this one.

[Ealasaid]

Excellent points, Nerindel! I like your suggestion for the ending. Very dramatic! As for who finally "gets" Naiore (if anyone), we don't have to decide that now. We can see what is happening when we arrive at that point in the game.

That being said, here's Kaldir's bio:

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Ealasaid's character - Kaldir

NAME: Kaldir

AGE: 42

RACE: Men. Both his father and mother were Dunedain

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword, long knife worn at the belt, and a variety of smaller knives concealed about his person. He also carries a rope and sometimes a whip...tools of his trade.

APPEARANCE: Kaldir is about 6 feet tall with a lean and muscular build. He has dark brown hair that falls just past his shoulders, which he wears tied back most of the time. He is darkly tanned, and wears a short beard. His eyes are of such a pale blue that the irises nearly vanish into the whites. Ice blue is a good description, as his eyes are usually cold, reflecting very little emotion. While the right side of his face is quite handsome, with a high cheekbone and strong brow, the left side of his face has been badly disfigured: the cheekbone smashed, and the skin a twisted mass of scar tissue from his hairline to his beard. This also affects the musculature of his face -- for instance, he can only smile with the good side of his face. Scars also disfigure a good bit of the rest of his person.
He dresses like a Ranger, in the browns and greens of the forest.

PERSONALITY: Because of his experiences in Mordor, Kaldir has a severe case of Post-Traumatic Stress (if you will pardon my foray into modern psycho-babble.) Consequently, there are a few pages missing out of his Personality Handbook. He feels very few emotions, but the ones he does feel are powerful and extreme. Also, he feels very little connection with or empathy for others. He exists in a kind of survivalist vacuum. Under the right circumstances, he could be healed, but, so far, those circumstances have not existed in his life.
He sleeps very little. He is also prone to debilitating flashbacks. Usually few and far between, these are caused by specific triggers. Unfortunately for him, Naiore (as his chief tormentor in Mordor) is one of those triggers. The flashbacks, when they come, cause him to flinch & lose concentration for a few seconds as his mind returns to certain horrific moments in his past that he has suppressed, unable to deal with them.
Finally, due to head injuires sustained during his imprisonment, large portions of his long-term memory of pre-war events have been either damaged or wiped out.
Overall, despite all the damage, he is a hard, tough man. Even so, he has his good points. He is polite and well-spoken, with a dry sense of humor. While he has difficulty forming connections with others, he does form likings for other people, based on respect for them or their actions. He will treat them well and look out for their well-being... as long as they don't get in his way. (Gilly & Lespheria, so far, fall into this category.) Once they get in his way, however, all bets are off.

STRENGTHS: Kaldir is a very intelligent individual, but his main strengths are that he is relentless and infinitely patient. When he is on someone's trail, he can bide his time until exactly the right moment. When he does choose to strike, he is generally fast, strong, and ruthless.
He can track almost anything, anywhere. He is a highly skilled horseman and an expert with a sword. While his archery skills are passable, he generally prefers other types of weapons.

WEAKNESSES: See the Personality description above. Also, his growing love for Benia leaves him vulnerable. In his emotionally stunted state, he behaves (toward others, where she is involved) more like a wolf over a fresh kill than a man with a potential love interest, but his feelings for her are deep. He would go to great lengths to protect her from harm.

HISTORY: Kaldir was born in the north. He never knew his mother as she died giving birth to him. Growing up, he was close with his father who taught him all the fighting and tracking skills of a Ranger. He grew into a brave and intelligent young man, loyal to Aragorn and completely at his disposal. He began riding with the Rangers at a very young age. He was not quite thirty when he fell at the Battle of Raven Falls, where he was taken prisoner by the orcs and transported south to Mordor, where he spent the next three years, and pretty much the duration of the War, as a prisoner and slave of Sauron. While in Mordor, he endured unspeakable horrors at the hands of Sauron's underlings, one of whom was none other than Naiore. Fascinated by pain and death, she tortured and tormented him nearly to the point of death throughout his imprisonment. He only survived through sheer strength of will, his experiences hardening him into the predator he is today.

After the war, he tried to return to the Ranger lifestyle, but found that he could no longer fit in. He gradually drifted away from the society of the other Rangers, keeping to himself and hiring his tracking skills out to whomever was willing to pay for them. Eventually, this led to bounty hunting, oftentimes in the employ of the same types (evil southerners) who had earlier enslaved him, only now they treat him with fear and respect. He travels easily between the north and the south, on no one's side but his own. The other Rangers view him with some suspicion, but generally leave him to his own business as, out of principle, he never goes after any of them. He arrives at the Forsaken Inn with the intent of capturing Benia for the bounty placed on her by Haradrim holdouts in the South. While there, he discovers the presence of Vanwe, who would be worth considerably more than Benia in terms of a bounty, and Naiore, against whom he wants nothing more than revenge. If he can collect a bounty for Naiore after she is dead, so much the better. (He's pragmatic, if nothing else.) His hatred of Naiore is very personal.

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Ealasaid's post for Kaldir


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

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Ealasaid]

I was kind of hoping to leave it a little looser in the script to say that Naiore may or may not be killed in the end. That is why I put the part of Naiore being brought to justice. I think it takes too much away from the interim writing if we already know she dies and who kills her. Its kind of like reading the last chapter of a book first. Just trying to keep the intrigue and the 'fog of possibillities' alive in this one.

Well put, Snowdog! I agree that we should leave somethings open-ended for the moment. It makes the game more fun if you don't know until the end precisely what is going to happen. If too much is laid out in advance, it just becomes an exercise in writing how to get from Point A to Point B.

[Ealasaid]

Ealasaid's character - Benia

NAME: Benia Nightshade

AGE: 30

RACE: Men. Her father is from Bree; her mother, from Harad.

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: A dagger and her father's sword.

APPEARANCE: Benia is about 5'7" with a slim, athletic build. She has an olive complexion. Her raven black hair is thick and straight, falling almost to her knees. She usually wears it in a single plait down her back. She is very beautiful in an exotic kind of way, with an oval face and large, long-lashed eyes of a dark amber color. She lines her eyes in kohl. The only jewelry she wears are silver dangling earrings, and a wide silver band on the middle finger of her left hand. A fine silver chain runs from her left earring across her cheekbone to a small stud in her left nostril. Tiny silver medallions hang, sparkling, from the chain.
Her palms and inner wrists (up to about 3" above her hand) are intricately tattooed with floral patterns and clan markings that identify her as a member of the Rain Clan of the Painted Sand tribe from the Haradrim desert. Usually, when she travels, she wears soft leather gauntlets to conceal the tattoos.
Basically a nomad, she doesn't own a wide assortment of clothes, only a cloak and hood, a couple of dresses (with requisite underclothes, of course), and a couple of veils, which she wears oftentimes when she travels, or when she wishes to hide from the world. Her clothes are all of the soft browns and greens of the forest. (She likes bright vibrant colors, but finds the earthtones more practical for all the travel she does.)

PERSONALITY: Benia is a courageous, yet gentle and caring woman. She is calm, confident, and practical, yet would willingly sacrifice her life if she thought it would save the life of another. She is fiercely loyal to her few friends and the remains of her mother's clan. When it concerns her own safety, she is more apt to flee from her enemies than to confront them, but if another's safety is in question, she will do whatever needs to be done in order to save or protect him/her.
She is shy around strangers, but, once her guard is down, likes a laugh and a good tale almost as much as the average hobbit. She has a beautiful singing voice and likes to sing, but rarely gets the opportunity. She is a skilled dancer after the fashion of Haradrim women, but does not know any of the dances done by the other peoples of Middle Earth.

STRENGTHS: Benia's greatest strengths are her courage and her generosity of spirit. She knows how to handle her father's sword, but only uses it in self-defense. (She is not a warrior or shield maiden by any stretch of the imagination.)

WEAKNESSES: She has a tendency to let her guard down sometimes at the wrong moments. Operating largely on instinct, she has also been known to be a little too quick to place her trust in strangers. Usually this is not a problem as she is usually right about people, but on occasion she has been wrong and ended up putting herself in grave danger.

HISTORY: Benia's mother came from the Rain clan of the Painted Sand tribe, a nomadic tribe of the Haradrim desert. They were warriors and horsemen, like the Rohirrim, but their horses were small and fast, better built to withstand the heat of the desert. Painted Sand was once a large and powerful tribe, but when they refused to fight on the side of Sauron in the War of the Ring, the entire clan was pretty much wiped out. To Benia's knowledge, only a handful of aunts and distant cousins remain. There may be others & she is always on the lookout for them. Because their lives are still in danger from those who followed Sauron, the tattered remnants of her tribe remain on the run, scattered throughout Middle Earth. Some of them remain in contact with one another by leaving obscure messages in predecided locations, but others are simply lost.

Benia's mother, Benia the Fair, left the desert with her parents and four of her brothers many years prior to the start of the War, but there was already a gathering of forces moving toward Mordor. They tried to escape north into Gondor and Rohan, but were pursued by orcs and hostile tribesmen. Her parents and one of her brothers were killed before reaching Harad's border. She and her other three brothers made it as far as Rohan, where they we captured by a Rohirrim horse patrol. Jack Nightshade, originally a Bree-man who had migrated to Rohan in search of adventure, was one of her captors. He and two others were given the chore of escorting the prisoners back to the city. By the time they arrived at Edoras, he and the desert lady had fallen in love. She remained a prisoner of the Mark for a brief time until her story was heard and verified, then she and her brothers were released. Her brothers swore their allegiance to Rohan and eventually found service as riders and scouts. Benia the Fair married Jack Nightshade and tried to make a home for the two of them in Rohan.

Jack became a close friend of Benia the Fair's brothers, often riding with them on patrols. Eventually, the brothers won permission to travel back to the desert to seek word on their kinsmen. Jack was granted permission to accompany them and, against his better judgment, was swayed by his wife's pleas and allowed her to accompany them as well. It was only after they had travelled a goodly distance toward Harad that it was discovered that Benia the Fair was pregnant. They had gone too far to send her back, so they continued on and Benia's daughter, Benia Nightshade, was born in the desert of her kinsmen. When the company finally reached the far savannahs, the ancestral base of the Painted Sand clan, there was no one left, just slaughtered horses and skeletons bleaching in the sun. They stayed there in hiding until the Benias were strong enough, then began the journey back to Rohan.

On the way back, they were attacked by orcs. The company was split in the fighting. Jack and his wife and daughter fled back into the desert. No one knew what became of the brothers. The Nightshades stayed in the desert, getting by as best they could until little Benia turned seven. Then Jack decided it was time to return to Rohan. This time they made it back, but things had changed. Jack was seen as a deserter and imprisoned. He managed to escape and, taking his little family with him, fled again. This time, they went North to Bree and his ancestral home. There, the Nightshade family took them in. They managed to stay there in peace and contentment for a while, but by the time little Benia reached her teens, rumors of trouble began to haunt them again. Mysterious strangers had been coming up the Greenway to Bree, asking about desert people and describing little Benia and her mother. It was clear that they meant them ill. Jack decided it was time to run again.

He bundled up his wife and now teenaged daughter, taking the unlikely road west toward The Shire. The strangers were in hot pursuit and nearly overtook them but for the brave interference of a hobbit called Gilly Burrows (now Banks), who at great peril to herself and her family, took it upon herself first to conceal the three of them and later to help them escape.

The three Nightshades did manage to escape, but were not so lucky the next time. They were overtaken by bounty hunters a short while later in some wild and lonely spot. Benia the Fair was killed and Jack was badly wounded. Little Benia remained unharmed only because she had been dawdling away from the camp when the tragedy struck. Carefully, she sheltered and tended to her father until he was well enough to travel. As soon as he had regained enough strength, they returned to his family in Bree, where he completed his convalescence. As soon as he was able, he took his daughter and the two of them vanished into the wilderness, never again attempting to call anyplace home for long.

Jack was heartbroken at the loss of Benia the Fair and never quite recovered from it. Eventually, he took to drink and was killed in a tavern brawl. Benia Nightshade was left on her own. She continued to travel, eventually working her way south again to the desert where she was able to locate a few surviving members of her clan, who tattooed her hands and finished teaching her the ways of the desert. Now she spends the majority of her time traveling from place to place, looking for her scattered kinsmen, helping them where she can and trying to assist in the rescues of those who are still imprisoned. She has never married, and, though she keeps in contact with her father's family in Bree, the connection is rather tenuous. Even though she is Jack's daughter, they still view her as a foreigner and help her on occasion only out of loyalty to her father's memory. They blame her and her mother for Jack's death.

She arrives at the Forsaken Inn as the result of a desire to see Gilly. Banned from the Shire (along with all the other Big People) by order of King Elessar, she sent a message to Bywater asking Gilly to meet her at the inn. She didn't go as far as Bree because of the tense nature of her relations with her father's family. The Nightshades are a big family, & she knew she could not be there unbeknownst to them.

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Ealasaid's post for Benia


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

[Snowdog]

Ok, so I go stumbling into a thread thinking its this one and its Shadow of the Star !!!

Maybe we may think of adjusting ther name of this RP a little so its a bit more unique??

Just a thought.

Grat bios Elasaid!

[piosenniel]

I believe it's only a working title - I needed something with which to title the thread.

[Ealasaid]

Yes -- this is just a working title. We can change it anytime.

The Lingering Darkness, anyone? smilies/biggrin.gif

Also, I just wanted to let everyone know that we have not heard from Hilde lately as she has been away dealing with a very sick child. She is worried that she may have to drop out of the game. I told her we could wait, at least, until Elora gets back after the first week of August before she has to decide.

In the meantime, we are to carry on without her.

...and then there were three (temporarily). So that leaves us, Ealasaid, Nerindel, & Snowdog, for the time being. Let's do what we can & hopefully we can be close to opening the discussion thread to other writers by the time Elora & Hilde can rejoin us.

We have already accomplished quite a lot.

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Snowdog]

I'll have to give the whole outline some thought and i will post it for critique and such when I got something together.

And yes, I know its a working title...
How about 'A Lingering Shadow' ??

Hope all goes well and swift recovery to Hilde's child. It's tough when one has sick children, especially if they are young. Mine are teenagers, so now they come in with things like .. I crashed my skateboard.. I crashed my bike... etc.

I have been reading the bios of the characters over and over, andtrying to commit to memory as much as I can of them. I have been going over Benia's bio and such since Hanasían will be dealing with her kin in Bree. All this is working to an opener and first post.

As for the start, probably sometime in mid August will work out for everyone?

[Ealasaid]

A mid-to-late August start sounds good to me. smilies/smile.gif

Snowdog, I will be looking forward to seeing your outline and first post! I do agree that we should keep the outline simple so that the characters have room to move & develop. I have yet to start my first posts, but I guess I should be thinking about those pretty soon, eh?

Nerindel -- still waiting for your bios!
Hilde will get hers in when things settle down some at home.

So far, we have bios from:
Elora: Naiore, Vanwe, Menecin
Ealasaid: Kaldir, Benia
Snowdog: Hanasian

We have a tentative outline (still subject to massive revision or even chucking).

We have our Character List for new writers:
2 Rangers to travel with Hanasian
2 underworld types to work with/against Naiore

We still need:
* Remaining Bios (no hurry, Nerindel or Hilde, just looking forward to seeing them when you can get to them)
* New identities for Inn personnel
* "Final" Outline
* First Posts from the bunch of us
* Completed Game Submission Form for Pio
Is there anything else you can think of that we need to have before moving from the Planning Thread to the Discussion Thread?

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[piosenniel]

Here is the ‘Characters Needed’ section: please decide on race and gender for your 4 listed below

Characters needed: – be specific as to type (eg., Lothlorien Elves, not just Elves, if that’s what you need; or any other characters types from specific regions) and please indicate the number of each type you will need.

Please note for each character type needed: Race – number needed – and gender needed

2 Rangers to travel with Hanasian PLEASE SPECIFY RACE AND GENDER FOR THE PROSPECTIVE PLAYERS

Concerning the two other Rangers: It has to be understood to the writers of these characters that they are war veterans, as I believe our time frame is the same as that of the Green Dragon, which is ten years after the War of the Ring (?). They are loyal to the King and fought against evil, though they do not necessarily have to be one of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war (Halbarad said the thirty were "...all of our kindred that could be gathered in haste..." ). They have deep friendship with each other and Hanasían, as well as the sons of Elrond Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers twenty years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible Battle from the some of the older Rangers who were there. Outside of that, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

2 Shady Underworld Types to take up with Naiore, both to serve her & (they hope) turn on her for their own gain PLEASE SPECIFY RACE AND GENDER FOR THE PROSPECTIVE PLAYERS

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Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above.

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

Will you be wanting first posts for the above characters?

If so, you need to clue the characters’ writers in to which Main Character’s First Post would be helpful to work from.

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

These will need to be listed as NCE’s also if you are going to use them:

Elladan
Elrohir
Celeborn

As well as the Forsaken Inn personnel

[Snowdog]

Right. We're working on it...

[Nerindel]

ok, here we go! I'm putting these up before I decide to change Amandur's Character again (I've now rewrote him 3 times smilies/rolleyes.gif ). Léspheria is a character I all ready had partially wrote up and she only really needed a history, but Amandur was one of those spur of the moment character's if you know what I mean smilies/biggrin.gif and he needed a complete bio, which took me awhile to get just right (I hope!).

Anyway here they are:

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Nerindel's character - Léspheria

NAME: Léspheria Denfëa

AGE: 2901 (As of the Fourth Age 12)

RACE: Noldor (Fathers line Fingolfin, Mothers line Finarfin)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS : Léspheria carries a Silvery grey bow made from the wood of a Mallorn tree, it has the gold leaf and flower design, of these great trees. It is longer and stouter than most. Her brown leather quiver hangs on her back and is always filled with arrows she Fletches herself.

Her short sword is of Noldorin design and hangs on her left side, it bears the crest of the house of Finarfin on the pommel. This sword is dear to Léspheria as it was once her mothers, given to her by her father on his departure from Middle Earth.

Léspheria also carries a small belt knife given to her by Amandur on their first battle together, it has a black handle and a grey blade.

Léspheria has a light shirt of silver chain mail, made for her by the Gwaith-I-Mírdain that resided in Imladris before the war. She wears it concealed under her clothes.

APPEARANCE: Léspheria is tall and slender, her long, straight, dark hair falls halfway down her back and in sunlight the golden colouring of her mothers kin can be seen flecked through it. Her complexion is pale and unblemished, some of her fathers kin liken her to Aredhel, the only daughter of Fingolfin, but when next to her mother it is obvious that Léspheria's looks come from her, they share the same Almond shaped grey eyes, not a dull but bright and piercing, almost as though they could see right into your heart.

Léspheria is no stranger to wearing the fine apparel of court, but prefers to wear clothes of her own design. She favours blues and silvers, but when travelling she wears the forest colours favoured by her kin. It is not often that she is seen in trousers preferring long skirts/dresses designed by herself to be practical for fighting and wandering the wilds. She wears calf high brown leather boots and a hooded cloak of a light but warm woven silken material, that seems to reflect the colour of its surroundings, grey in the hue of twilight under the trees; green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk silver as water under the stars. It is clasped at the neck by a silver brooch shaped in the likeness of Galathilion and bears a crescent moon. (the Emblem of the Eldar)

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Léspheria is Altruistic in nature, which on more than one occasion has got her into trouble, but she is also self-sufficient and capable of making the best of a bad situation.

Léspheria is warm and friendly to those she meet's that she senses are of good heart, to those who are not she is closed and guarded. She also has a tendency to follow her instincts, but never at the risk to others.

She possesses the innate ability to sense the emotions of those around her, this is what allows her to be more trusting than most of her kin, but this ability has its down sides, not only can she sense the emotions of others, but of her mother and twin brother she can actually feel when they are in pain or torment and in turn their pain is laid upon her. Only a few of her family and Amandur know of this weakness in her ability (As they see it). She also possesses the healing ability of her kin, using her senses to locate the site of injury and manipulate it into a state of mending/healing.

Léspheria is a keen Archer and woods woman, both skills taught her by her father and brother, she also carries the wisdom of her kin and is learned in the histories of her people, she harbours the fear that one day she will fall pray to the pride of her ancestors.

HISTORY: Léspheria was born in the TA 132 to Valaindon, her mother who was a High elf of Lothlorien and a descendant of the noble house of Finarfin, and Finderon, her father who was a High elf of Imladris and a descendent of the house of Fingolfin. Both Lespheria and her twin brother Lóthaniel were brought up in Imladris, but when Léspheria started to show signs that she possessed her mothers gifts she was taken to Lothlorien to study under those of her mothers house who remained after the SA.

In Lothlorien she learnt how to discipline her ability and use it to help others. On the eventual realisation that her gift could be use in a darker more sinister way she was physically sick to her core and began to fear her gift, but the words of the lady of the woods healed her of this fear and she carries them in her heart always 'The choices we make are what make us who we are.' and from that day to this she choose to only use her gifts to help others.

In Lothlorien Léspheria also learnt the finer arts, Dressmaking, embroidery, music and poetry she was also taught Archery and Herblore, she learned quickly and became skilful , she learnt also the histories of her kin and the family trees of each line fascinated her most, she soon discovered the there was a space missing in the family tree of her mothers kin, but when she ask about this, she was told that she was mistaken or that it was a mistake made by the writer. But always she sensed that they hid the truth and where ashamed to admit it, so she pursued it no further.

About the year 1974 TA. Léspheria returned with her family to Rivendell, in this year the North kingdom ended and the witch king over ran Arthedain and took Fornost. In this time many messengers passed between Rivendell and the Grey havens and the following year it was decided that Rivendell would send a force to aid in removing the witch king, from the northern lands. On the day that her father and brother were due to leave Léspheria had a premonition of their death in the form of a dream. She begged for them not to go, but they thought her dream no more than anxiety. Léspheria was not so convinced and against their wishes she followed the host north.

It was here that she found out her acute link to her brother, as a blow struck him she fell from her horse experiencing his pain, it was here too that her friendship with the Dunedain began. An Arnorian soldier seeing an elven woman in the battle came to her aid, she persuaded him to help her search for her brother, together they found Her father and brother both injured and with her expert healing skills she healed both, The man from who Amandur is descended faught off the enemy so that she could work unhindered. After the victourious battle Léspheria helped tend others that were injured in the battle.

After the battle of Fornost, under the instruction of Lord Elrond the Elves of Rivendell, taught the survivors of Arnor, the skills required to become rangers, in this time Léspheria too decided that she wished to learn these skills, so both her father and Brother taught her, they were surprised at how quickly she learned and how adaptable she could be. By the time rumours reach Rivendell of a power returned to Dol Guldur, Léspheria is now aiding the elves in the training of the Dunedain.

At about this time Lésperia's mother left Rivendell, and her Father finally tells both of them about Naiore, but not everything. He tells them only of her crimes but not of their relationship to this woman or of the friendship that their mother once shared with Naiore.

Lóthaniel later finds out that Naiore and their mother are cousins and that after Naiore disappeared from Belfalas, their mother helped to look for her fearing that some ill had befallen her. In this time she met their father and he agreed to help her search, but to no avail. Valaindon returned to Rivendell with Finderon. When Finderon returned from the Battle of Dagorlad he did not have the heart to tell Valaindon of what they saw and of the terror Naiore struck in their hearts, for he knew she would not believe it, he too wouldn't if he had not seen it with his own eyes. But after the disaster of the Gladden Fields all the elves learned of Naiores crimes, Valaindon refused to believe what she was told and rode often in search of her cousin, but all she found was a trail of heinous crimes. so she returned to Finderon and chose to live in denial. but of this Lothaniel says nothing to Léspheria.

In the time that Valaindon is away from her family she finds Naiore, not far from Lothlorien. Naiore reading her cousins thoughts pretends to have been tortured and used by Sauron and forced to do the treacherous things that she has done, knowing that her old friend would show pity on her. Valaindon thinking she was right all along about her friend, makes the mistake of not reading her cousins emotions. Valaindon meets secretly with Naiore (As her cousin feigns to be to afraid and ashamed to face her kin) and brings her news of Lothlorien, it is through Valaindon that she learns that Menecin still loves her and longs for her return, Naiore then slowly begins to draw secrets from her cousin regarding the defence of both Lothlorien and Rivendell. With the coming of Menecin to Rivendell, Valaindon realises she has been deceived and the pride of her kin engulfs her and in rage she relentlessly peruses Naiore who she finally sees as her enemy. the following year she losses the trail, but does not give up searching. She is eventually captured at the end of the year 3017 and is taken to Barad-dûr, where she again meets Naiore who takes great pains to torture her and break her elven spirit, but with the fall of Sauron she is forced to flee leaving Valaindon for dead in the pits of Barad-dûr. She is eventually found by Amandur and other Rangers that dared to enter the great fortress after the war.Of these events Léspheria knows only bits and pieces.

During this time she helps the Dunedain and later she protects the borders of Rivendell, In the year that her mother was captured to the day she died (the best part of a year) Léspheria fell into a fever from which none could cure. Léspheria experienced her mothers torture at the hands of Naiore, though she tells none of this, and only learns of her mothers torturer some years later.

After the war Lésperia's mothers body is brought back to Rivendell, in his grief their father goes with the ring bearers to Valinor, but Both Léspheria and her brother choose to remain. In the 2nd year of the fourth age Léspheria is asked by Lords Elladan and Elrohir, if she would consider becoming one of their emissaries between men and elves, to which she humbly excepted.

It was in this role that she found out the full extent of Naiores crimes, and that the council of King Elassar wished to bring her to justice. Their were a few elves who also wanted to see Naiore brought to justice, but Léspheria not wishing any kinslaying convinced the council of elves to allow King Elessar to bring Naiore to stand trial in Gondor.

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Nerindel's post for Léspheria


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Nerindel's character - Amandur

NAME: Amandur II

AGE: 62 (as of midsummer of year 12 of the fourth age.)

RACE: Men (Dunedan)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS : Amandur carries a numanorean long sword, an heirloom of his family. He also carries an elvish dagger, a small black handled belt knife (one of a pair, Léspheria has the other) and a crude bow, which he uses mainly for hunting.

APPEARANCE: Amandur is 6 ft 2 " in height and has a handsome but rugged look about him. His dark, almost black hair sits just below his jaw line. His Hazel eyes hold the wisdom of his age, he looks only to be in his early forties. His complexion is tanned due to weathering, he is sometimes clean shaven and sometimes not depending on circumstances, (ie in the wilds he sees no need to shave) Amandur has several battle scars, one across his left bicep another across his right leg and a small scar across the clef of his chin are all reminders of the battles of the Pelennor fields and the Morannon. The scar on his right leg sometimes bothers him in colder weather.

Amandur wears black leather pants, white/light grey shirts and dark grey /green tunics that bear the emblem of King Elessar. His high black boots are of supple leather and have seen much wear. He also has a cloak of a heavy dark-green cloth.

PERSONALITY: Although Hardened by war, Amandur managed to remain good hearted and kind. Among his friends and kin he is loyal, trustworthy and well liked, But to his enemies he is fierce, relentless and unforgiving. He tends to speak his mind and is not quick to trust. He has the qualities of being a great leader but prefers not to lead when possible, but like most great leaders this sometimes happens weather he will it or not.

STRENGTHS: Although proficient with a bow, he favours his sword and is very skilful in its use, both on foot or mounted, he has always had an natural ability with horses, his own in particular, the black charger comes when he whistles, and the horse always seems to anticipate his movements, before they are made. Amandur learnt much from the elves during his stay in Rivendell and has become wise in the way of the wilds. He also follows his instincts, but not at the cost of others.

WEAKNESSES: Amandur's weaknesses are his love for Léspheria and his growing over protectiveness of her. Also the scar on his leg is know to give him bother in colder weather or if hit or knocked in some way.

HISTORY: Amandur was born in the Grey Havens on the 31st day of Naríë in the year 2969 TA (1369 Shire reckoning). Amandur was the eldest son of Amandur I and Norvanna both Dunedain of the north and both Rangers, which in itself is unusual as usually only the men became rangers, but Amandur's mother was strong both in stature and will. Cirdan granted her protection in the grey havens when with child. Amundur and his younger brother Aldred spent their child hood in the Grey havens with their mother, their father visited as often as he could.

There was only two years between Amandur and his brother, so the pair grew up together in relative peace under the protection of Cirdan, they both shared a love of boats and a respect for the sea. Their mother and father (when present) took great pains to teach both their children the use of weapons, both brothers favoured the long sword. At the age of 20 Amandur's father took him to Rivendell to train under the tutelage of the Elves.

It is here that he first meets the elven twins Lóthaniel and Léspheria Denfëa. Lóthaniel teaches him the skills required to become a Ranger like his father and Léspheria teaches him of his ancestry and the history of his people. His brother joins him two years later and the four become firm friends. During one battle they shared (a wayward band of orcs making the mistake of leaving the safety of the misty mountains and entering Eriador) his Female elven companion was pressed by Four orcs and as he ran to her aid he thought her done for, but by the time he reached her, battling orcs of his own on the way the four orcs lay dead at her feet, It was then that he saw Léspheria in a new light, as she stood there breathing heavily, with her sword in one hand and a broken dagger in the other, he saw a strong, determined, beautiful but gentle elven woman that he knew from that moment he had lost his heart too. It was also at this battle that Amandur gave Léspheria one of his long twin belt knives, to replace her broken dagger.

About the year 3000 the Rangers guarded the Shire more closely at the request of the White Council and their chief Aragorn. Amandur, his brother and a few others were charged with Guarding Sarn ford, but on the evening of the 22nd day of Yavannie the Black riders drove them from the ford and four of the black riders pursued them eastward. They returned to Rivendell to tell Lord Elrond that the Riders are in the Shire.

Word soon came from Lothlorien that Aragorn required the aid of his kin, Halbarad, Elladan and Elrohir quickly gathered those who could be found and they headed south with all haste, it was here that the two Brothers were reunited with their father. After the hard journey south they were reunited with their chief and rode with the grey company through the paths of the dead and fought the Cosairs of Umbar at Pelargir, taking their ships. Amandur and his brother with their knowledge of sailing were charged with one of the great black masted ships and they sailed up the River to Harlond, to assail their enemy from the flank and rear, on the Pelennor Fields.

It was here that Amandur's Brother and father fell, he did not grieve his loss for he knew that they had both fought fiercely for something that they all believed in, instead he worried for his mother and how this news would affect her, Amandur received his arm and leg injury in this battle, while battling the fierce men of Harad. He tended and bound his own injuries and rode with his kin to the Black gates were he proved himself once more in battle.

After the fall of Sauron and the defeat of his dark army, Amandur remained in Minas Tirith, He was one of the few that dared to enter the great fortress to look for prisoners and any hidden enemies. It was here that he and a few other rangers found Valaindon (Léspheria's mother). She was close to death and they could do nothing for her, but before dying she bade him tell Léspheria that she was sorry, and to tell both her children to protect the gift, but before she could explain she passed away.

After the wedding of their chieftain and now King to the Lady Arwen of Rivendell, he rode with the elven host back to Rivendell bearing Valaindon's body and her final words, there he learnt that Léspheria had spent the whole year in a state of Fitful fever that no one could explain, but on the date that Amandur had watched Valaindon pass away she had miraculously recovered to full health, as though nothing had ailed her, but upon seeing her Amandur knew that what had ailed her would not ever completely leave her.

He Returned to the havens and brought his mother back to Gondor, but the following year she died from the grief of her loss. Amandur remained in the service of the king and was glad when he found out that Léspheria was to be an Emissary for Rivendell. On her visits they always found time to talk and take long walks. In his heart he greatly desired to return north, so when King Elessar asked for people to go north and re-establish the northern city of Annúminas, he was one of the first to Volunteer.

His Knowledge of Naiore was gained from Lóthaniel and the courts of Gondor were she was listed as one of Saurons minions that had not fallen at her masters defeat and was still at large. There were many who sought this woman and from what Lothaniel had told him of this Elf he was in no hurry to meet her, but if called upon to find her he would.

_____________________________________________

Nerindel's post for Amandur


_____________________________________________

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

[Ealasaid]

Great bios, Nerindel! smilies/biggrin.gif

[Snowdog]

Ah yes! Amandur II! One whom Hanasían learned some skill whilst in Rivendell! Maybe knew his father Halasían??

Good bios!

[Ealasaid]

Okay... I have been working on the Game Submission form. Here's what I have so far. There are still a few question marks that need to be filled in. Let's hear some ideas!

Title: The Lingering Darkness
(I'm thinking maybe we should change to this one due to the undeniable similarity between our original working title and that of another RPG already in progress in The Shire.)

Historical Background: With the downfall of Sauron, evil fled disorganized before the might of the West, but there were some who, having been corrupted, still lingered, either unable or unwilling to admit defeat. This story tells of the pursuit of one such individual in the years after the War of the Ring.

Basic Storyline: Servants of the King pursue Naiore Dannan, the Ravenner of Mordor, who has continued to wreak havoc in the aftermath of the war, but remains elusive. Others become entangled in her trail as well, both with her and against her. The storyline moves through twists and turns to a final showdown between Naiore and the peoples of the west.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

This means we will know the story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed.

Starting Location: The Forsaken Inn, two day's ride east of Bree.

Likely destination: Rivendell

Timeframes:
This game takes place in the FOURTH Age at around year 12, starting in midsummer.
The storyline itself or plot covers 2 months(?)

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

Characters needed:
2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.
These two must be veterans of the War of the Ring. They are loyal to the king and fought against evil, although they do not necessarily have to be of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war. They have a deep friendship with Hanasian, as well as Elrond's sons, Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers 15 years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible battle from some of the older Rangers who were there. Or, they may have encountered him more recently while plying his trade as a bounty hunter. They will probably know of Amandur, as well, as he is a rather prominent Ranger, with close association to Aragorn and the court. Outside of these specifications, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.
Be as creative as you like with these guys. The only restrictions are that they be male, Men, and up to no good. They can either be working together or separately. They fall in with Naiore, probably somewhere in the vicinity of the inn. While seeming to work for her, they are also trying to figure out a way to betray her for their own profit. There is no loyalty among thieves!

Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above.

Dedicated Characters:
Ealasaid (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Kaldir and Benia Nightshade (both Race of Men)
Nerindel (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Lespheria (Elf) and Amandur (Man)
Elora will play 3 characters: Naiore, Vanwe, and Menecin (all elves)
Snowdog will play 1 character: Hanasian (Man)
Hilde Bracegirdle will play 1 character: Gilly Banks (Hobbit)

(We will insert the Bios with First Posts into the final version of the form after each name.)

NCE’s who will figure into the storyline:
Elladan
Elrohir
Celeborn
These are actual Tolkein figures and, when writing about them, writers need to exercise extreme care that they are presented with accuracy, according to Tolkein's original characterizations of them.

Additional NCE's who will figure into the storyline are the personnel from the Forsaken Inn, which for the purposes of this RPG, are as follow:
(Renamed Green Dragon personnel -- c'mon, folks! Help me out here!)

FIRST POSTS MUST ACCOMPANY ALL CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS. NO character descriptions will be accepted without First Posts accompanying them. All character descriptions posted without the required First Post will be sent back to their writers. Writers will be chosen based on the quality of their submission, not on a first come, first in, basis.

Proposer/Owner: Ealasaid
RPGs at the Barrow Downs I have participated in are the following: Sailing Away (a cameo role); Dark Seduction; Corsairs & Corsets

Proposer/Owner: Nerindel
RPGs at the Barrow Downs I have participated in are the following: In the Footsteps of the Grey Company, The Summons, Dark Seduction and The fall of Greenwood the Great.

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

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Ealasaid, I feel like I am interupting a conversation here, so sorry, and also my apologies for the tardy bio. I hope it helps nail down Gilly’s character, although it doesn’t really help one “get into her head”. Suffice it to say that it is rather a squirrel cage in there.

Have had Carl accompany Gilly to the Inn as I can't see her traveling on her own. (Or on a tour bus for middle aged hobbits!)

“Lingering Darkness” sounds like an appropriate title.


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

Hilde's character

NAME: Gilly Burrows Banks

AGE: 45


RACE: Hobbit


GENDER: Female


WEAPONS: Gilly has a knife, which she views as a tool rather than a weapon. At need she is more likely to impress the mundane objects around her to serve as weapons than to remember it’s existence.


APPEARANCE: Gilly is a middle aged and middle class hobbit as is reflected by her appearance. She is of average height and sturdy mature figure, though by no means overweight. The long braid of her wavy light brown hair is shot through with gray and tied in a knot at the back of her neck, curling wisps framing her broad face and dark brown eyes. She wears a simple homespun white blouse under a long dress of coarse dark green stuff that is edged with her own tatting work. At her waist is a wide belt of brown leather and around her shoulders a loosely woven shawl of varying shades of brown and tan knobby wool.


PERSONALITY: Gilly is a peaceful, practical sort. Her joy in life is maintaining a pleasant well-managed household and so she is typically trying to smooth out rough patches and looking for a better way of doing things. She has a narrow set of friends mostly in her own neighborhood, and while it takes time to win her confidence once you have it she is a devoted and loyal friend. Gilly is governed by a strong set of principles and is known to cast reason aside to do what she feels is honorable and right. She is quick to smile and has a sense of humor.


STRENGTHS: Her strengths lie in her perseverance and kind heart.


WEAKNESSES: It is her weakness to be overly suspicious, and to act before thinking things through to their logical end.


HISTORY: Gilly comes from the Burrows family of Bywater and spent a happily uneventful childhood on the family’s farmstead outside the town proper.


When she was in her tweens she had stumbled upon the plight of Jack Nightshade and his small family. Convincing her parents of their need, the Nightshades had been the Burrows’ guests for sometime before moving secretly onward. During this time a strong friendship had formed between Jack Nightshade’s daughter Benia and the hobbit, Gilly; and Gilly had in turn became aware of the troubled world outside of the Shire.


Immediately preceding the war, Gilly was married to Carl Banks, an oil merchant from Bywater and moved into his small living quarters just over the room housing his oil press. They lead a peaceful life until the war brought grief to the Shire and the young Banks’ business was burned down as a result of an “accident” involving Sharkey’s men. Gilly and Carl then had moved in with Carl’s parents.


Carl took part in the Battle of Bywater as a guard at the barrier on the road to Hobbiton, a point of pride for Gilly.


After the war the young Banks’ slowly rebuilt the business and were blest with 3 children. Life had settled into the comfortable pattern of domestic turmoil when a letter from Benia arrived asking Gilly if she would be willing to travel beyond Bree for a time to visit her old friend. A bit taken back at the mention of The Forsaken Inn, Carl and Gilly responded in a positive matter on the condition that Miss Nightshade would watch over her friend in Carl’s absence. It was then planned that Carl would accompany his wife to the inn and leave her there for a week while he visited some distant cousins in Archet. The children would in turn be visiting their Grandmother Banks. At the very most, they planned to return to Bywater within three weeks.

_____________________________________________

Hilde's post for Gilly


_____________________________________________

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

[Ealasaid]

Great Bio, Hilde! Glad to see you back on The Thread. As far as interrupting a conversation - never! I was also speaking to you. If I was having a specific conversation with anyone, it was probably with myself.... smilies/biggrin.gif smilies/wink.gif

One question, though... On the name line, you put Gilly Burrows Brown. Is it Banks (as you stated later) or Brown?

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

[Ealasaid]

Here's the progress report:

So far, we have bios from:
Elora: Naiore, Vanwe, Menecin
Ealasaid: Kaldir, Benia
Snowdog: Hanasian
Nerindel: Lespheria, Amandur
Hilde: Gilly Burrows Banks
That's all of us -- great work, everybody!

We have a tentative outline (still subject to massive revision or even chucking). Snowdog -- I'm still looking forward to seeing your version! smilies/biggrin.gif Also, I imagine Elora will have quite a lot to say on that subject when she gets back.

We have our Character List for new writers:
2 Rangers to travel with Hanasian
2 underworld types to work with/against Naiore

If the form I pasted in earlier today meets with everyone's approval, we have a mostly finished Game Submission Form.

We still need:
* New identities for Inn personnel
* "Final" Outline (It doesn't have to be set in concrete... just a guideline we can go by when the game starts.)
* First Posts from the bunch of us
* Completed Game Submission Form for Pio

As Hilde can tell you, I am lousy with names, so I am especially hoping for new ideas regarding the inn personnel. smilies/smile.gif

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

[Nerindel]

Ok I filled this in for you Ealasaid smilies/biggrin.gif

Proposer/Owner: Nerindel
RPGs at the Barrow Downs I have participated in are the following:In the Footsteps of the Grey Company, The Summons, Dark Seduction and The fall of Greenwood the Great.


as for staff are we keeping them the same race and gender as in the green dragon?

[Ealasaid]

Thanks, Nerindel! smilies/smile.gif
As for the Green Dragon/Forsaken Inn personnel, that same question had occurred to me. It would be simpler to keep them the same, but I don't think we are tied into anything.

[Nerindel]

hehe that was fun smilies/biggrin.gif, I put the three Hobbit names from the Green dragon through the BD's name generator and here is the Hobbit names it came up with smilies/wink.gif :

Vinca (cook) - Aldarida Boffin
Ruby Brown (server and maid)- Rowan Brandybuck
Buttercup Brownlock (kitchen assistant and maid) - Amarantha Willow


I also have a few suggestions for the other two smilies/wink.gif

Derufin (stablemaster/handyman) - Dervorin, Fréalas, Hasimë or Tarciron

Aman (innkeeper) - Alfiran,Silmeriën or Fimbriel

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[piosenniel]

I am awaiting, with great anticipation, the beginning of this game . . .

[Nerindel]

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


Just to let you guys know in advance, I will be away from the 24th to the 29th of September, with no access to a computer smilies/frown.gif


Also I hate to be a pain but are we sure we want our final destination to be Rivendell, I don't know about you guys but I think it would be ashame to see elven blood spilled in the last stonghold of the elves. I know that we have agree'd to leave the ending open, which is great by the way!. but if by the end Elora still feels that Naiore would rather die than be captured, Léspheria would be most agrieved if Naiores blood or her own for that matter was spilled in Rivendell. smilies/frown.gif

Why not go for Eloras suggestion of the Gladdening fields were Naiores terror began, after all it is only about 150 miles east then south of Rivendell.

just a suggestion, let me know what do you think? smilies/wink.gif

[Ealasaid]

Why not go for Eloras suggestion of the Gladdening fields were Naiores terror began, after all it is only about 150 miles east then south of Rivendell.


Sounds good to me! If there are no objections from Snowdog or Hilde, I will make the change on the Game Submission Form.

Also, no problem about your upcoming absence. Thanks for the advance warning!

[Ealasaid]

I put the three Hobbit names from the Green dragon through the BD's name generator and here is the Hobbit names it came up with :
Vinca (cook) - Aldarida Boffin
Ruby Brown (server and maid)- Rowan Brandybuck
Buttercup Brownlock (kitchen assistant and maid) - Amarantha Willow

Brilliant!! I love it. smilies/biggrin.gif

I also like your suggestions for the other inn personnel. My faves would probably be:

Derufin (stablemaster/handyman) - Dervorin
Aman (innkeeper) - Fimbriel

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

One question, though... On the name line, you put Gilly Burrows Brown. Is it Banks (as you stated later) or Brown?
Crikey, what was I thinking?! smilies/tongue.gif Of course you are right Ealasaid. I have changed it to Banks.

And speaking of names, bravo Nerindel! All sound good to me.

Gladden fields sounds fine, just curious as to who will be going down there and if the high state of tension can be maintained until the finale. Then again I know that with all you excellent writers it will work out fine!

I am awaiting, with great anticipation, the beginning of this game . . .

Pio, is that a hint to press on? smilies/wink.gif

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[piosenniel]

Not a hint at all - I really am looking forward to reading the efforts of the writers in-character, but I also want the Game plan done well - so take as much time as is needed. smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaid]

Gladden fields sounds fine, just curious as to who will be going down there

Why, all of us who are still standing, of course! smilies/wink.gif But, seriously, we would have to see what is happening by then in the game. Maybe Benia & Gilly would remain in Rivendell. Who knows? smilies/smile.gif

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Ealasaid]

Looking at this Planning Thread, I am beginning to think Ealasaid talks too much! smilies/eek.gif Either that or she needs to find some other things to do... smilies/rolleyes.gif

But seriously, that being said, I have an updated version of my prospective outline. Please feel free to pick it apart or toss it in the trash.

ACT 1:
Lespheria departs, leaving Amandur at the inn, where he remains in the hopes of finding out where Naiore is. He already knows she is somewhere in the north.
Naiore & Vanwe meet up in the woods outside the inn.
Kaldir captures Gilly, who is trying to rescue Benia.
Hanasian returns to the inn from Bree to discover that Benia is gone. His suspicions are aroused when he finds that Kaldir and Gilly have vanished as well.
2 Shady Underworld Types arrive at the inn.
?? 2 New Rangers arrive at the inn, meeting Amandur and Hanasian??

ACT 2:
Kaldir returns to the woods, where he had earlier sensed an ominous presence, and discovers that it is indeed Naiore. (How?) Bent on revenge, he picks up her trail.
Naiore, whose original intent was to kill Vanwe, changes her mind & decides to use Vanwe in order to catch Kaldir, whom she never quite managed to kill during the war. As her own form of stress-relief, she would rather like to finish the job.
Hanasian & Amandur also learn of Naiore's presence (possibly through one or another of the inn personnel that Vanwe might have told in her hurry to leave “I‘m leaving with my mother“, or some other vague remark that only someone in the know might truly understand the significance of.)
Having been intercepted and turned back by a messenger from her twin brother, Lespheria returns to the inn, where she rejoins Amandur.
Hanasian joins forces with the other two (as yet unnamed) Rangers.
?? Hearing somehow of Naiore’s presence, the Underworld Types decide to seek her out??
They all depart (in separate groups) in pursuit of Naiore.
Gilly and Benia accompany Kaldir as his prisoners (sort of).

Act 3:
Naiore takes up with the two Shady Underworld Types, much to Vanwe’s consternation, with the intent of using them insofar as they are useful. Realizing that Lespheria and more Rangers than just Kaldir are on her trail, she decides to kill as many of them as she can.
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him.
?? Kaldir & Hanasian clash over Benia??

Act 4:
As they near Rivendell, Naiore changes her focus again & speeds toward Rivendell, forgetting her pursuers for the moment in order to plan how to get at Menecin.
?? Lespheria & Amandur join forces with Hanasian's group?? They ride ahead to Rivendell to warn Menecin & Elrond's sons.
Shady Underworld Types begin to plot against Naiore.
Kaldir continues to track Naiore.
?? Gilly & Benia chance upon Vanwe & try to talk her away from Naiore ?? (This would be an attempt to help Vanwe, but I imagine Vanwe would view them with suspicion as they are traveling with Kaldir)

Act 5:
Naiore makes her attempt to kill Menecin. She fails & flees, deserting Vanwe to her fate.
Kaldir, who has not entered Rivendell, again picks up her trail.
Naiore learns of her Underworld cohorts’ plan to betray her. She deals with them, then flees south toward Gladden Fields.
Kaldir is joined in the hunt by the others. Eventually, they corner Naiore for a final showdown.
We tie up loose ends … or set up the sequel… Lingering Darkness II: Naiore Escapes!
The End.


Anyway, I hope it gives everyone a little more stuff to think over. I know we are all waiting for Elora to get back into the discussion before settling on anything definite.

[Snowdog]

Well Ealasaid caught pretty much what I was going to write in the form. I would add a little here and there is all.

Title: The Lingering Shadows

Historical Background:
With the destruction of the One Ring and the downfall of Sauron, the evil of the lands fled disorganized and broken before the might of the West. Men and lands that were long under the grasp of the Shadow were now freed by the grace of King Elessar, and peace was known to all. But there were still some who, having been corrupted and having grown used to positions of power, still lingered, either unable or unwilling to admit defeat and accept the rule of the King. They were few, and they had scattered about the lands to hide and cause such troubles as they could. The King, being wise and with much foresight, knew that these remnents of evil would not submit and would spread fear in the newly-freed lands, and would have to be brought to justice. In the second year of his reign, he commissioned a Company consisting mostly of Dúnedain Rangers he knew and those who served under Faramir in Ithilien. In ten years of vigilence, they were fairly successful in their mission, but there was one who eluded them. This story tells of the final days of pursuit of this wiley individual...

Basic Storyline: Servants of the King pursue Naiore Dannan, the Ravenner of Mordor, who has continued to wreak havoc in the aftermath of the war and has remained elusive of her pursuers. Along her trail of evasion, others have become entangled in her wiles, both with her and against her. This story moves through the varied twists and turns that lead to a final showdown between Naiore and the peoples of the west.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

The story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed.

Starting Location: The Forsaken Inn, a days journey east of Bree.

Likely ending destination: Somewhere near the Gladden Fields.

Timeframes:
This RP takes place in the Year 12 of the FOURTH Age, starting in midsummer.
The storyline covers roughly 2 months through the latter half of summer moving towards fall.

This game requires a time commitment of 12 weeks (?) from me, the game owner and from the major players.
__________

Ok, so can we actually make it writing in three months real time for two months RP time? I really don't want anyone to have to "force-write" anything or gloss over any interactions because of artifical time restraints.


Now to go over Ealasaid's fine listing above... smilies/smile.gif
It looks pretty good, though I listed it as such:

ACT I: Happening at the Forsaken Inn
The Rangers meet (Amandur, Hanasían, and the other two)
Naiore & Vanwe meet near the Inn
the two shady characters are either already at the Inn or arrive (writers choice)
Benia, Kaldir, and Gilly are not at the Inn but are in the nearby woods.

Act II: Meetings
Kaldir and Naiore sense each other in the wooded lands near the Inn.
Vanwe seeks Naiore
Per chance, intuition, or whispered rumor, Naiore's presense is suspected by the Rangers and also the shady characters.
Naiore is sought by all in their own ways.
Gilly & Benia are in custody of Kaldir.

Act III: Intrigue
Naiore, Vanwe, and the two shady folk get together (though I'm not sure how this will be written as the Rangers will be in active pursuit of her. Maybe they could leave the Inn first and follow Vanwe??)
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him. Hanasian finds Kaldir.

ACT IV: The noose tightens...
With Rangers and bounty hunters closing in, Naiore changes her focus from killing the Rangers to pursuing Menecin, using any and all to conceal her path. Shady characters start to realize she may be setting them up for a fall and so plot against her.
Gilly & Benia manage to free themselves or Kaldir loosens his grip as he increasingly looks for Naiore. The Rangers (all of them) and Lespheria ride together.

ACT V: The End game
Naiore tries to take down anyone she can whilst planning to escape the closing trap. The shady characters plan their move against Naiore, either on their own or together, and in her course to shake her pursuers, Naiore is trapped somewhere near the Gladden Fields.
____________

Ok... that is the basics as I see it, which is for the most part how Ealasaid has written it. To keep the ending interesting, I propose that some bounty is on Naiore's head due to her being able to evade the King's company. So it could be anyone who finally brings Naiore in? Just a thought.

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

[Ealasaid]

This game requires a time commitment of 12 weeks (?) from me, the game owner and from the major players.


Pio says we can have up to 13 weeks. Shall we just max in out, then? smilies/wink.gif

Also, I like the way you expanded on the history & background listings. smilies/biggrin.gif But I think we will have the final showdown take place at Gladden Fields, rather than Rivendell, as suggested by Elora & Nerindel.

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

[Snowdog]

Right... sure... 13 weeks will work. Also, I edited the ending destination above.

And no, you don't talk too much Ealasaid. smilies/wink.gif

[Ealasaid]

To keep the ending interesting, I propose that some bounty is on Naiore's head due to her being able to evade the King's company. So it could be anyone who finally brings Naiore in? Just a thought.

I was just assuming that there is a sizeable bounty on Naiore's capture or death. So, let's go with that. It's the only way the subplot with the Underworlders really will work. I can't see them trying to befriend then betray her for the good of humanity! smilies/evil.gif

Also, good outline, Snowdog! It's much less detailed than mine, which is good as it leaves the characters more room to move within the framework of the action.

Great work! smilies/biggrin.gif

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

[Snowdog]

Yeah.. it only makes sense there was a price on her head. I was doing all that through the day here at work, so my brain is toast.

[Nerindel]

Bravo, if I was wearing a hat I would be tipping it to you both smilies/wink.gif


I also like your suggestions for the other inn personnel. My faves would probably be: Derufin (stablemaster/handyman) - Dervorin
Aman (innkeeper) - Fimbriel

Yes, I like those two also smilies/biggrin.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

One again about the first posts….

How are we going to achieve this, are we taking our posts in order out of the Green Dragon and posting them in this story? Or are we trying to encapsulate what went on before in one long post each?

Just thought I should start to get to work on this. Mid August is rapidly approaching!

[Nerindel]

Hilde, I'm glad you brought that up, I too was wondering how we would do this!

I was thinking that maybe the first post for the game could be a summary of events already past. So that we can write fresh new first post. smilies/biggrin.gif

but I'm not quite sure how to encapsulate all that information into one post.

~Nerindel~

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

It maybe too difficult to do as a single post, since our characters interact. I can see a potential problem with duplication and coherency, not to mention “time warps” between the end of one person’s post and the beginning of another’s.

One way around it would to be to work jointly on a general beginning post that summarized what had transpired up to the point where we left off at the Green Tavern, and then write our individual first posts from there.

[ August 06, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Snowdog]

Yes, I've given this some thought as I have been writing bits and pieces of my first post which will include a bit of Hanasían's backstory to the time he arrived at the (Green Dragon, now Forsaken) Inn, then a first-person account of the happenings at the Inn (a synopsis of the happenings at the Green Dragon) though it will be referenced as the Forsaken.

Actually, if everyone involved at the Green Dragon could write a first person synopsis of how they saw the events written previously, it will fill in the backstory from each character's perspective. Then we can write at the end the 'first post' where we will be interacting in our writings again at or near the Forsaken Inn. Just a passing thought as I sit here at work and talk to customers about medical equipment. This way, there will be no real timing issues in the backstory.What do you all think?

[ August 06, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Ealasaid]

It's a difficult question, that's for sure. Ummm...Snowdog, I didn't quite follow what you are suggesting. Could you clarify it, please?

Are you saying that we each write a first person narrative (from each character) that narrates what has happened from the time of that character's arrival at the inn to the present, then we pick up from there with our first posts?

Another possibility is to preface each first post with an italicized narration of the lead-in events, along with any pertinent info the writer wants the reader to know up front. I, for one, am not terribly comfortable with first person narration. I tend to go off on too many psychological tangents, and even the occasional rant.

[Ealasaid]

Just to refresh everyone's memory & to make sure we are all in the same starting place, here is where things stood when we moved from the Green Dragon to the Planning Thread:

Vanwe is an employee in the stables at the Forsaken Inn. She has been there some weeks.

Naiore has just arrived near the inn. She is concealed in the trees just off the inn grounds.

Lespheria & Amandur are guests at the inn. Amandur suspects Naiore's presence in the region but is not aware of her proximity. They are preparing to depart on business of their own.

Kaldir stables his horse at the inn, but does not have a room there. He is close on Vanwe's back, intending to capture her & return her to her captors in the south. He senses the presence of Naiore, but is not sure of her identity. He would like to either catch or kill Naiore (he's not particular) for both personal and mercenary reasons.

Hanasian has not yet returned from Bree, where he went on the request of Benia. He is interested in capturing Naiore, but is not yet aware of her presence in the vicinity of the inn.

Benia has been captured by Kaldir and lies bound in the basement of an abandoned blacksmith shop nearby. For the purposes of the game, I will change her broken ankle to a sprain so that she will be more mobile more quickly. She is unaware of the presence of Naiore.

Gilly has taken up Benia's father's sword and gone in search of Benia. She is currently following Kaldir. Like Benia, she is unaware of the presence of Naiore.

Menecin is being held in the protection of Celeborn & the elves, currently off the stage of the inn.



I see I have started a fresh page here. I also have the last post at the bottom of page 2. I just wanted to mention it so that it doesn't get overlooked. smilies/wink.gif

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

[Snowdog]

You get the idea Ealasaid. I will probably do some sort of 1st person narrative in my first post, but whatever you're comfortable with writing. When I posted earlier, I was just thinking about the story amid the desolation of the myraid phone calls I was getting here at work. smilies/wink.gif

[Ealasaid]

Barring any objections, this will be our "working" outline. It is a hybrid of my and Snowdog's submissions, based on Elora's original. I hope everyone is happy with it. (We can always revise it later.)

ACT 1: At the Forsaken Inn
Lespheria departs, leaving Amandur at the inn, where he remains in the hopes of finding out where Naiore is.
Naiore & Vanwe meet somewhere near the inn.
Kaldir captures Gilly, who is trying to rescue Benia.
Hanasian returns to the inn from Bree.
2 Shady Underworld Types arrive at the inn. (Or they may already be there -- writer‘s choice.)
2 New Rangers arrive at the inn, meeting Amandur and Hanasian.

ACT 2: Meetings & Departures
Kaldir returns to the woods, where he had earlier sensed an ominous presence, and discovers that it is indeed Naiore. He picks up her trail.
Naiore & Vanwe fall in together.
Hanasian & Amandur also learn of Naiore's presence by chance, intuition, or whispered rumor.
Having been intercepted and turned back by a messenger from her twin brother, Lespheria returns to the inn, where she rejoins Amandur.
Hanasian joins forces with the other two (as yet unnamed) Rangers.
Hearing somehow of Naiore’s presence, the Underworld Types decide to seek her out, leaving the inn before the others.
The rest of them depart (in separate groups) in pursuit of Naiore.
Gilly and Benia accompany Kaldir as his prisoners (sort of).

Act 3: Intrigue
Naiore & Vanwe take up with the two Shady Underworld Types
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him.
Hanasian catches up with Kaldir.

Act 4: The Noose Tightens
With Rangers and bounty hunters closing in, Naiore changes her focus from killing the Rangers to pursuing Menecin, using any and all means to conceal her path.
The Rangers (all of them) and Lespheria ride together.
Shady characters start to realize Naiore may be setting them up for a fall and so plot against her.
Gilly & Benia manage to free themselves or Kaldir loosens his grip as he becomes increasingly focused on the hunt for Naiore.

Act 5: End Game
Naiore makes her attempt to kill Menecin. She fails & flees to the south, deserting Vanwe to her fate.
Naiore tries to take down anyone she can as she attempts to escape the closing trap.
The shady characters make their move against Naiore, either on their own or together.
Naiore is trapped somewhere near the Gladden Fields, where she is either captured or slain.

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

[Ealasaid]

Again, barring any objections, here is our nearly complete Game Submission Form. All we need now are our first posts. Again, I hope everyone is happy with it.

Title: The Lingering Darkness

Historical Background:
With the destruction of the One Ring and the downfall of Sauron, the evil of the lands fled disorganized and broken before the might of the West. Men and lands that were long under the grasp of the Shadow were now freed by the grace of King Elessar, and peace was known to all. But there were still some who, having been corrupted and having grown used to positions of power, still lingered, either unable or unwilling to admit defeat and accept the rule of the King. They were few, and they had scattered about the lands to hide and cause such troubles as they could. The King, being wise and with much foresight, knew that these remnants of evil would never submit and would spread fear in the newly-freed lands, and would have to be brought to justice. Despite the best efforts of the king's men and with a sizeable bounty on her head, one individual remains at large. This is the story of her final pursuit and capture.

Basic Storyline: Servants of the King pursue Naiore Dannan, the Ravener of Mordor, who has continued to wreak havoc in the aftermath of the war and has remained elusive of her pursuers. Along her trail of evasion, others have become entangled in her wiles, both with her and against her. This story moves through the varied twists and turns that lead to a final showdown between Naiore and the peoples of the west.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

This means we will know the story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed.

Starting Location: The Forsaken Inn, a day's ride east of Bree.

Likely destination: Gladden Fields

Timeframes:
This game takes place in the Fourth Age at around year 12, starting in midsummer.
The storyline itself or plot covers 2 months.

This game requires a time commitment of 13 weeks from me, the game owner and from the major players.

Characters needed:
2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.
These two must be veterans of the War of the Ring. They are loyal to the king and fought against evil, although they do not necessarily have to be of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war. They have a deep friendship with Hanasian, as well as Elrond's sons, Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers 15 years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible battle from some of the older Rangers who were there. Or, they may have encountered him more recently while plying his trade as a bounty hunter. They will probably know of Amandur, as well, as he is a rather prominent Ranger, with close association to Aragorn and the court. Outside of these specifications, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.
Be as creative as you like with these guys. The only restrictions are that they be male, Men, and up to no good. They can either be working together or separately. They fall in with Naiore, probably somewhere in the vicinity of the inn. While seeming to work for her, they are also trying to figure out a way to betray her for their own profit. There is no loyalty among thieves!

Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above.

Dedicated Characters:
Ealasaid (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Kaldir and Benia Nightshade (both Race of Men)
Nerindel (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Lespheria (Elf) and Amandur (Man)
Elora (Game Owner) will play 3 characters: Naiore, Vanwe, and Menecin (all elves)
Snowdog (Game Owner) will play 1 character: Hanasian (Man)
Hilde Bracegirdle will play 1 character: Gilly Banks (Hobbit)

(We will insert the Bios with First Posts into the final version of the form after each name.)

NCE’s who will figure into the storyline:
Elladan
Elrohir
Celeborn
These are actual Tolkein figures and, when writing about them, writers need to exercise extreme care that they are presented with accuracy, according to Tolkein's original characterizations of them.

Additional NCE's who will figure into the storyline are the personnel from the Green Dragon Inn, which for the purposes of this RPG, are removed to the Forsaken Inn and renamed as follows:
Vinca Bunce (cook) - Aldarida Boffin
Ruby Brown (server & maid) - Rowana Brandybuck
Buttercup Brownlock (kitchen assistant & maid) - Amarantha Willow
Derufin (stablemaster/handyman) - Dervorin
Aman (innkeeper) - Fimbriel

FIRST POSTS MUST ACCOMPANY ALL CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS. NO character descriptions will be accepted without First Posts accompanying them. All character descriptions posted without the required First Post will be sent back to their writers. Writers will be chosen based on the quality of their submission, not on a first come, first in, basis.

Proposer/Owner: Ealasaid
RPGs at the Barrow Downs I have participated in are the following: Sailing Away (a cameo role); Dark Seduction; Corsairs & Corsets

Proposer/Owner: Nerindel
RPGs at the Barrow Downs I have participated in are the following: In the Footsteps of the Grey Company, The Summons, Dark Seduction and The fall of Greenwood the Great

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

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

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

All looks good to me.

I also would prefer not to use 1st person if possible, for fear of the pyschological repercusions. smilies/biggrin.gif

Does anyone plan to bring up the infamous red stone, or should we ignore it's existance? I'm trying to weed out irrelevant stuff in my mind here...letters...rocks...Myrtle...hmmm....

[piosenniel]

I am going to suggest you also list Snowdog and Elora as owners. This will give the all those listed as game owners the ability to be considered for game playing in Rohan once this game is finished. If there is an incarnation of this game, then perhaps Hilde can be listed as a game owner, allowing her access to Rohan games.

Also – lets leave the final game form on this thread – don’t PM it to me as is the norm.

Please note, I have gone back and edited your Character Description posts – to set them up to be moved easily to the Discussion Thread for the Game. Beneath each character description, is an open section where you can place a First Post for your character. Please do place your posts there with your character bios.

Once you have finalized the form, and the First Posts are in place – just PM me with the date all of you have agreed on for the Discussion Thread to open.

[Ealasaid]

Thanks, Pio! Will do all of the above. smilies/smile.gif

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

[Snowdog]

It looks good Ealasaid. I still think that the Forsaken Inn is only [i]"a days journey east of Bree" as stated by Aragorn, and according to the Atlas of Middle Earth ( I know, not Tolkien canon, but a very good resource), it appears to be about 20 miles. At an enduring foot pace down the road by Longshanks, it would be a long days journey. A horse will be faster.

Thanks for the G.O. status! I will hone out my First Post probably by this weekend.

I believe Elora will be back sometime this weekend as well.

[piosenniel]

My dog-eared copy of Fonstad's Atlas of Middle-earth leads the line of Tolkien's books that sit by my computer.

It is my 'canon' cartography resource. She delved deeply into the canon sources and produced this mapped approach to Middle-earth.

No quibbles from me, if you use her maps.

In fact:

HERE (http://lotrmaps.middle-earth.us/maps/r3t_M56.jpg) is a map from the Atlas of the area from the Forsaken Inn (about 25 miles east of the southern end of the Midgewater Marshes on the Great East Road, and then east to the Gladden Fields.

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

[Ealasaid]

Excellent work, my good cartographers! But, speaking as a geographical dunderhead, what does that mean to us? i.e. what do I need to change in the Game Submission Form? And what do I need to change it to? I changed the description under The Starting Location from "two days' ride" to "one day's ride". Is that okay? Or should I drop the driving directions entirely.

I only aims to please! smilies/tongue.gif smilies/wink.gif

AHA! I've actually got Fonstad's book. Now...to open it!

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

[piosenniel]

You only needed to change exactly what you did change - 2 days to 1 day from Bree.

I am simply enamored of maps and tend to blather on about them.

[piosenniel]

For some reason, this thread is still acting odd. It put Hilde's reply into my previous post box for some reason, and it did lose Page 4 before I could get it closed when the Forum was having its technical problems.

So, I'm going to close this one and start another one to finish the discussion.

I do have all your Bios and First Posts on floppy in case it decides to disappear all together.

Let me just move them and the last incarnation of the Game Proposal to a new topic.

Note I'll put the proposed name on it also.

New Discussion Thread here:

THE LINGERING DARKNESS (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000101#000001)

~~ Pio

[ August 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

This is a continuation of the first Planning Thread.

Old Discussion Thread HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000094&p=)
_____________________________________________

This thread is being opened for the purposes of planning an RPG, which has grown out of a storyline developed in the Green Dragon Inn.

Its use is restricted to these writers for now:

Ealasaid
Elora
Hilde Bracegirdle
Nerindel
Snowdog


No other writers may use this thread with the exception of the Shire Moderators.

All posts by those other than those listed above will be deleted

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's post

Again, barring any objections, here is our nearly complete Game Submission Form. All we need now are our first posts. Again, I hope everyone is happy with it.

Title: The Lingering Darkness

Owners: Ealasaid, Elora, Nerindel, Snowdog

Historical Background:
With the destruction of the One Ring and the downfall of Sauron, the evil of the lands fled disorganized and broken before the might of the West. Men and lands that were long under the grasp of the Shadow were now freed by the grace of King Elessar, and peace was known to all. But there were still some who, having been corrupted and having grown used to positions of power, still lingered, either unable or unwilling to admit defeat and accept the rule of the King. They were few, and they had scattered about the lands to hide and cause such troubles as they could. The King, being wise and with much foresight, knew that these remnants of evil would never submit and would spread fear in the newly-freed lands, and would have to be brought to justice. Despite the best efforts of the king's men and with a sizeable bounty on her head, one individual remains at large. This is the story of her final pursuit and capture.

Basic Storyline: Servants of the King pursue Naiore Dannan, the Ravener of Mordor, who has continued to wreak havoc in the aftermath of the war and has remained elusive of her pursuers. Along her trail of evasion, others have become entangled in her wiles, both with her and against her. This story moves through the varied twists and turns that lead to a final showdown between Naiore and the peoples of the west.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

This means we will know the story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed.

Starting Location: The Forsaken Inn, a day's ride east of Bree.

Likely destination: Gladden Fields

Timeframes:
This game takes place in the Fourth Age at around year 12, starting in midsummer.
The storyline itself or plot covers 2 months.

This game requires a time commitment of 13 weeks from me, the game owner and from the major players.

Characters needed:
2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.
These two must be veterans of the War of the Ring. They are loyal to the king and fought against evil, although they do not necessarily have to be of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war. They have a deep friendship with Hanasian, as well as Elrond's sons, Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers 15 years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible battle from some of the older Rangers who were there. Or, they may have encountered him more recently while plying his trade as a bounty hunter. They will probably know of Amandur, as well, as he is a rather prominent Ranger, with close association to Aragorn and the court. Outside of these specifications, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.
Be as creative as you like with these guys. The only restrictions are that they be male, Men, and up to no good. They can either be working together or separately. They fall in with Naiore, probably somewhere in the vicinity of the inn. While seeming to work for her, they are also trying to figure out a way to betray her for their own profit. There is no loyalty among thieves!

Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above.

Dedicated Characters:

Ealasaid (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Kaldir and Benia Nightshade (both Race of Men)
Nerindel (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Lespheria (Elf) and Amandur (Man)
Elora (Game Owner) will play 3 characters: Naiore, Vanwe, and Menecin (all elves)
Snowdog (Game Owner) will play 1 character: Hanasian (Man)
Hilde Bracegirdle will play 1 character: Gilly Banks (Hobbit)

(We will insert the Bios with First Posts into the final version of the form after each name.)

NCE’s who will figure into the storyline:

Elladan
Elrohir
Celeborn

These are actual Tolkein figures and, when writing about them, writers need to exercise extreme care that they are presented with accuracy, according to Tolkein's original characterizations of them.

Additional NCE's who will figure into the storyline are the personnel from the Green Dragon Inn, which for the purposes of this RPG, are removed to the Forsaken Inn and renamed as follows:

Vinca Bunce (cook) - Aldarida Boffin
Ruby Brown (server & maid) - Rowana Brandybuck
Buttercup Brownlock (kitchen assistant & maid) - Amarantha Willow
Derufin (stablemaster/handyman) - Dervorin
Aman (innkeeper) - Fimbriel

FIRST POSTS MUST ACCOMPANY ALL CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS. NO character descriptions will be accepted without First Posts accompanying them. All character descriptions posted without the required First Post will be sent back to their writers. Writers will be chosen based on the quality of their submission, not on a first come, first in, basis.

[ August 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's post

Barring any objections, this will be our "working" outline. It is a hybrid of my and Snowdog's submissions, based on Elora's original. I hope everyone is happy with it. (We can always revise it later.)

_____________________________________________

WORKING OUTLINE

ACT 1: At the Forsaken Inn

Lespheria departs, leaving Amandur at the inn, where he remains in the hopes of finding out where Naiore is.
Naiore & Vanwe meet somewhere near the inn.
Kaldir captures Gilly, who is trying to rescue Benia.
Hanasian returns to the inn from Bree.
2 Shady Underworld Types arrive at the inn. (Or they may already be there -- writer‘s choice.)
2 New Rangers arrive at the inn, meeting Amandur and Hanasian.

ACT 2: Meetings & Departures

Kaldir returns to the woods, where he had earlier sensed an ominous presence, and discovers that it is indeed Naiore. He picks up her trail.
Naiore & Vanwe fall in together.
Hanasian & Amandur also learn of Naiore's presence by chance, intuition, or whispered rumor.
Having been intercepted and turned back by a messenger from her twin brother, Lespheria returns to the inn, where she rejoins Amandur.
Hanasian joins forces with the other two (as yet unnamed) Rangers.
Hearing somehow of Naiore’s presence, the Underworld Types decide to seek her out, leaving the inn before the others.
The rest of them depart (in separate groups) in pursuit of Naiore.
Gilly and Benia accompany Kaldir as his prisoners (sort of).

Act 3: Intrigue

Naiore & Vanwe take up with the two Shady Underworld Types
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him.
Hanasian catches up with Kaldir.

Act 4: The Noose Tightens

With Rangers and bounty hunters closing in, Naiore changes her focus from killing the Rangers to pursuing Menecin, using any and all means to conceal her path.
The Rangers (all of them) and Lespheria ride together.
Shady characters start to realize Naiore may be setting them up for a fall and so plot against her.
Gilly & Benia manage to free themselves or Kaldir loosens his grip as he becomes increasingly focused on the hunt for Naiore.

Act 5: End Game

Naiore makes her attempt to kill Menecin. She fails & flees to the south, deserting Vanwe to her fate.
Naiore tries to take down anyone she can as she attempts to escape the closing trap.
The shady characters make their move against Naiore, either on their own or together.
Naiore is trapped somewhere near the Gladden Fields, where she is either captured or slain.

[ August 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's character - Kaldir

NAME: Kaldir

AGE: 42

RACE: Men. Both his father and mother were Dunedain

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword, long knife worn at the belt, and a variety of smaller knives concealed about his person. He also carries a rope and sometimes a whip...tools of his trade.

APPEARANCE: Kaldir is about 6 feet tall with a lean and muscular build. He has dark brown hair that falls just past his shoulders, which he wears tied back most of the time. He is darkly tanned, and wears a short beard. His eyes are of such a pale blue that the irises nearly vanish into the whites. Ice blue is a good description, as his eyes are usually cold, reflecting very little emotion. While the right side of his face is quite handsome, with a high cheekbone and strong brow, the left side of his face has been badly disfigured: the cheekbone smashed, and the skin a twisted mass of scar tissue from his hairline to his beard. This also affects the musculature of his face -- for instance, he can only smile with the good side of his face. Scars also disfigure a good bit of the rest of his person.
He dresses like a Ranger, in the browns and greens of the forest.

PERSONALITY: Because of his experiences in Mordor, Kaldir has a severe case of Post-Traumatic Stress (if you will pardon my foray into modern psycho-babble.) Consequently, there are a few pages missing out of his Personality Handbook. He feels very few emotions, but the ones he does feel are powerful and extreme. Also, he feels very little connection with or empathy for others. He exists in a kind of survivalist vacuum. Under the right circumstances, he could be healed, but, so far, those circumstances have not existed in his life.
He sleeps very little. He is also prone to debilitating flashbacks. Usually few and far between, these are caused by specific triggers. Unfortunately for him, Naiore (as his chief tormentor in Mordor) is one of those triggers. The flashbacks, when they come, cause him to flinch & lose concentration for a few seconds as his mind returns to certain horrific moments in his past that he has suppressed, unable to deal with them.
Finally, due to head injuires sustained during his imprisonment, large portions of his long-term memory of pre-war events have been either damaged or wiped out.
Overall, despite all the damage, he is a hard, tough man. Even so, he has his good points. He is polite and well-spoken, with a dry sense of humor. While he has difficulty forming connections with others, he does form likings for other people, based on respect for them or their actions. He will treat them well and look out for their well-being... as long as they don't get in his way. (Gilly & Lespheria, so far, fall into this category.) Once they get in his way, however, all bets are off.

STRENGTHS: Kaldir is a very intelligent individual, but his main strengths are that he is relentless and infinitely patient. When he is on someone's trail, he can bide his time until exactly the right moment. When he does choose to strike, he is generally fast, strong, and ruthless.
He can track almost anything, anywhere. He is a highly skilled horseman and an expert with a sword. While his archery skills are passable, he generally prefers other types of weapons.

WEAKNESSES: See the Personality description above. Also, his growing love for Benia leaves him vulnerable. In his emotionally stunted state, he behaves (toward others, where she is involved) more like a wolf over a fresh kill than a man with a potential love interest, but his feelings for her are deep. He would go to great lengths to protect her from harm.

HISTORY: Kaldir was born in the north. He never knew his mother as she died giving birth to him. Growing up, he was close with his father who taught him all the fighting and tracking skills of a Ranger. He grew into a brave and intelligent young man, loyal to Aragorn and completely at his disposal. He began riding with the Rangers at a very young age. He was not quite thirty when he fell at the Battle of Raven Falls, where he was taken prisoner by the orcs and transported south to Mordor, where he spent the next three years, and pretty much the duration of the War, as a prisoner and slave of Sauron. While in Mordor, he endured unspeakable horrors at the hands of Sauron's underlings, one of whom was none other than Naiore. Fascinated by pain and death, she tortured and tormented him nearly to the point of death throughout his imprisonment. He only survived through sheer strength of will, his experiences hardening him into the predator he is today.

After the war, he tried to return to the Ranger lifestyle, but found that he could no longer fit in. He gradually drifted away from the society of the other Rangers, keeping to himself and hiring his tracking skills out to whomever was willing to pay for them. Eventually, this led to bounty hunting, oftentimes in the employ of the same types (evil southerners) who had earlier enslaved him, only now they treat him with fear and respect. He travels easily between the north and the south, on no one's side but his own. The other Rangers view him with some suspicion, but generally leave him to his own business as, out of principle, he never goes after any of them. He arrives at the Forsaken Inn with the intent of capturing Benia for the bounty placed on her by Haradrim holdouts in the South. While there, he discovers the presence of Vanwe, who would be worth considerably more than Benia in terms of a bounty, and Naiore, against whom he wants nothing more than revenge. If he can collect a bounty for Naiore after she is dead, so much the better. (He's pragmatic, if nothing else.) His hatred of Naiore is very personal.

_____________________________________________


Ealasaid's post for Kaldir

As Kaldir slid the bolt into place that sealed his captive, Benia Nightshade, into her cellar prison, he frowned to himself. Why couldn’t he kill her? There was a hefty price on her head in the south, as there was for any of the remnants of the Painted Sand tribe. He didn’t even need to deliver her alive. Since the Painted Sand people had the peculiar custom of tattooing their women’s hands with clan markings and tribal symbols, all he needed in order to collect the bounty was her hands, salted, mummified, or however he cared to deliver them. When he had abducted her from her bed at the inn the night before, his intention had been to make short work of her. He had even pre-stocked the cellar with an axe, a pound of salt to preserve the hands, and a heavy chopping block. All remained unused and Kaldir found himself facing a fresh set of problems, not the smallest of which was what to do with the southern woman now that he had her.

Stooping to pick up the bundle that contained her used supper dishes, he made a noise deep in his throat that sounded something between a grumble and a growl. If he intended to take her with him, he would have to find a horse for her and some shoes. Having taken her from her bed, she was barefoot with nothing heavier than a cotton dress to protect her from the elements. He would have to find a way to obtain her belongings from the inn. The sprained ankle made the horse a necessity. Of course, she could ride double with him, but he was afraid he would find that a touch too distracting, especially for the journey he had a feeling he was soon to undertake. As it was, he had difficulty pushing the image of her dark amber eyes and shining black hair out of his mind. Having her on the same horse with him would be a disaster. He would get a second horse.

Or he could let her go, just leave her in the cellar to her fate. Kaldir thought about it as he walked back through the darkness toward the inn. That would be the simplest solution, the obvious thing to do, that is if he did not go ahead with his original plan and kill her already. Her hobbit friend would no doubt find her well before she managed to starve to death. Mrs. Banks seemed like the determined type. Nonetheless, he found himself continuing to waver over what to do with Miss Nightshade.

Approaching the inn, he slowed his steps. He was growing annoyed with himself for his own indecision. The problem was that he felt a connection to Benia, as thought she had something to do with him on a fundamental level. He wasn’t sure what that something might be, but, if he were to destroy her, he would never know.

He would get a second horse. He would return Cook’s dishes to the inn, settle his accounts, and then seek out Cobhan Tupper, the local gypsy horse-trader, and negotiate or threaten him into a decent price on a passable mount for the girl. Stopping just outside the inn grounds, Kaldir gave his head a quick shake, as though trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The whole situation was crazy. He should just go back to the cellar and do the deed. When she was gone, that would be the end of it. No more haunting images of smooth brown skin and long-lashed eyes. She would be nothing more than a commodity in a bag, to be turned in for a price. Finally, he nodded to himself but the expression in his pale eyes was bitter and hard.

Pushing the thought of Benia out of his mind, Kaldir stepped forward into the inn’s yard. The grove of trees that lay on the far side of the inn from where he stood reminded him of his more pressing concerns. First of all, there was Vanwe, the young elf lady upon whose head lay a substantial price, placed on her by the Haradwraith village that had been foolish enough to lose her, the daughter of Naiore Dannan. He had almost managed to capture her several times earlier in the day, but each time found himself waiting, instead, for a more opportune moment. She was impulsive and quick, but clearly frightened of her own shadow. He could use that fear against her, but really didn’t think he would need to. She had a tendency to bolt suddenly out of rooms where there was the relative safety of other people to go off by herself, where she became - for him - a sitting duck. He was confident that it was just a matter of time before Vanwe joined Miss Nightshade in her cellar prison. Or, rather, took her place. Then, soon after, he could begin the long journey south to return Miss Vanwe to her village.

But he was troubled by the presence of the other, the one he had taken to thinking of as The Watcher in the Woods. It was a familiar malevolence that he had sensed there that afternoon, one he knew well from long experience. But could it really be she? He had no desire to go creeping about in the darkness to find out, but, come dawn, that was exactly where he intended to go. It would make sense for Naiore to be there. After all, the daughter was there, why not the mother? He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he cast one more glance across the yard toward the gloom and mist between the trees. He had the distinct feeling that she waited for him out there between the black tree trunks, a dark presence with unfinished business. The long-smashed bones of his face began to throb. He had some unfinished business with her as well. Daylight would be there soon enough. He would find out then if Naiore had indeed come to the north.

Stepping across the threshold into the cheery warmth of the inn’s common room, Kaldir made first for the kitchen where he dropped off the crockery from Benia’s dinner. Then, he returned to the common room, where by chance or fate, the first face to catch his eye was that of the horse-trader himself. Always one to follow his instincts, Kaldir took it as a sign. He joined Tupper at his table.

"Greetings, you old horse thief," he said pleasantly, taking the empty chair at the horse-trader’s elbow. "Have you any horses to sell?"

Cobhan Tupper looked up in surprise, then a grin spread across his swarthy, whiskered face. "To an old scoundrel like you? Of course.’ He took a long drink from his tankard. "What happened to that big gray stallion of yours? Did he finally die of ill humor? I believe I still have a hoof print in my backside courtesy of that evil-tempered beast."

Kaldir smiled wryly. "You shouldn’t have tried to steal him." Raising his hand, he signaled to Rowana Brandybuck for an ale. "He’s stabled outside."

"A fine animal! Would you be interested in selling him?"

"No. I’m only interested in buying."


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Ealasaid's character - Benia

NAME: Benia Nightshade

AGE: 30

RACE: Men. Her father is from Bree; her mother, from Harad.

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: A dagger and her father's sword.

APPEARANCE: Benia is about 5'7" with a slim, athletic build. She has an olive complexion. Her raven black hair is thick and straight, falling almost to her knees. She usually wears it in a single plait down her back. She is very beautiful in an exotic kind of way, with an oval face and large, long-lashed eyes of a dark amber color. She lines her eyes in kohl. The only jewelry she wears are silver dangling earrings, and a wide silver band on the middle finger of her left hand. A fine silver chain runs from her left earring across her cheekbone to a small stud in her left nostril. Tiny silver medallions hang, sparkling, from the chain.
Her palms and inner wrists (up to about 3" above her hand) are intricately tattooed with floral patterns and clan markings that identify her as a member of the Rain Clan of the Painted Sand tribe from the Haradrim desert. Usually, when she travels, she wears soft leather gauntlets to conceal the tattoos.
Basically a nomad, she doesn't own a wide assortment of clothes, only a cloak and hood, a couple of dresses (with requisite underclothes, of course), and a couple of veils, which she wears oftentimes when she travels, or when she wishes to hide from the world. Her clothes are all of the soft browns and greens of the forest. (She likes bright vibrant colors, but finds the earthtones more practical for all the travel she does.)

PERSONALITY: Benia is a courageous, yet gentle and caring woman. She is calm, confident, and practical, yet would willingly sacrifice her life if she thought it would save the life of another. She is fiercely loyal to her few friends and the remains of her mother's clan. When it concerns her own safety, she is more apt to flee from her enemies than to confront them, but if another's safety is in question, she will do whatever needs to be done in order to save or protect him/her.
She is shy around strangers, but, once her guard is down, likes a laugh and a good tale almost as much as the average hobbit. She has a beautiful singing voice and likes to sing, but rarely gets the opportunity. She is a skilled dancer after the fashion of Haradrim women, but does not know any of the dances done by the other peoples of Middle Earth.

STRENGTHS: Benia's greatest strengths are her courage and her generosity of spirit. She knows how to handle her father's sword, but only uses it in self-defense. (She is not a warrior or shield maiden by any stretch of the imagination.)

WEAKNESSES: She has a tendency to let her guard down sometimes at the wrong moments. Operating largely on instinct, she has also been known to be a little too quick to place her trust in strangers. Usually this is not a problem as she is usually right about people, but on occasion she has been wrong and ended up putting herself in grave danger.

HISTORY: Benia's mother came from the Rain clan of the Painted Sand tribe, a nomadic tribe of the Haradrim desert. They were warriors and horsemen, like the Rohirrim, but their horses were small and fast, better built to withstand the heat of the desert. Painted Sand was once a large and powerful tribe, but when they refused to fight on the side of Sauron in the War of the Ring, the entire clan was pretty much wiped out. To Benia's knowledge, only a handful of aunts and distant cousins remain. There may be others & she is always on the lookout for them. Because their lives are still in danger from those who followed Sauron, the tattered remnants of her tribe remain on the run, scattered throughout Middle Earth. Some of them remain in contact with one another by leaving obscure messages in predecided locations, but others are simply lost.

Benia's mother, Benia the Fair, left the desert with her parents and four of her brothers many years prior to the start of the War, but there was already a gathering of forces moving toward Mordor. They tried to escape north into Gondor and Rohan, but were pursued by orcs and hostile tribesmen. Her parents and one of her brothers were killed before reaching Harad's border. She and her other three brothers made it as far as Rohan, where they we captured by a Rohirrim horse patrol. Jack Nightshade, originally a Bree-man who had migrated to Rohan in search of adventure, was one of her captors. He and two others were given the chore of escorting the prisoners back to the city. By the time they arrived at Edoras, he and the desert lady had fallen in love. She remained a prisoner of the Mark for a brief time until her story was heard and verified, then she and her brothers were released. Her brothers swore their allegiance to Rohan and eventually found service as riders and scouts. Benia the Fair married Jack Nightshade and tried to make a home for the two of them in Rohan.

Jack became a close friend of Benia the Fair's brothers, often riding with them on patrols. Eventually, the brothers won permission to travel back to the desert to seek word on their kinsmen. Jack was granted permission to accompany them and, against his better judgment, was swayed by his wife's pleas and allowed her to accompany them as well. It was only after they had travelled a goodly distance toward Harad that it was discovered that Benia the Fair was pregnant. They had gone too far to send her back, so they continued on and Benia's daughter, Benia Nightshade, was born in the desert of her kinsmen. When the company finally reached the far savannahs, the ancestral base of the Painted Sand clan, there was no one left, just slaughtered horses and skeletons bleaching in the sun. They stayed there in hiding until the Benias were strong enough, then began the journey back to Rohan.

On the way back, they were attacked by orcs. The company was split in the fighting. Jack and his wife and daughter fled back into the desert. No one knew what became of the brothers. The Nightshades stayed in the desert, getting by as best they could until little Benia turned seven. Then Jack decided it was time to return to Rohan. This time they made it back, but things had changed. Jack was seen as a deserter and imprisoned. He managed to escape and, taking his little family with him, fled again. This time, they went North to Bree and his ancestral home. There, the Nightshade family took them in. They managed to stay there in peace and contentment for a while, but by the time little Benia reached her teens, rumors of trouble began to haunt them again. Mysterious strangers had been coming up the Greenway to Bree, asking about desert people and describing little Benia and her mother. It was clear that they meant them ill. Jack decided it was time to run again.

He bundled up his wife and now teenaged daughter, taking the unlikely road west toward The Shire. The strangers were in hot pursuit and nearly overtook them but for the brave interference of a hobbit called Gilly Burrows (now Banks), who at great peril to herself and her family, took it upon herself first to conceal the three of them and later to help them escape.

The three Nightshades did manage to escape, but were not so lucky the next time. They were overtaken by bounty hunters a short while later in some wild and lonely spot. Benia the Fair was killed and Jack was badly wounded. Little Benia remained unharmed only because she had been dawdling away from the camp when the tragedy struck. Carefully, she sheltered and tended to her father until he was well enough to travel. As soon as he had regained enough strength, they returned to his family in Bree, where he completed his convalescence. As soon as he was able, he took his daughter and the two of them vanished into the wilderness, never again attempting to call anyplace home for long.

Jack was heartbroken at the loss of Benia the Fair and never quite recovered from it. Eventually, he took to drink and was killed in a tavern brawl. Benia Nightshade was left on her own. She continued to travel, eventually working her way south again to the desert where she was able to locate a few surviving members of her clan, who tattooed her hands and finished teaching her the ways of the desert. Now she spends the majority of her time traveling from place to place, looking for her scattered kinsmen, helping them where she can and trying to assist in the rescues of those who are still imprisoned. She has never married, and, though she keeps in contact with her father's family in Bree, the connection is rather tenuous. Even though she is Jack's daughter, they still view her as a foreigner and help her on occasion only out of loyalty to her father's memory. They blame her and her mother for Jack's death.

She arrives at the Forsaken Inn as the result of a desire to see Gilly. Banned from the Shire (along with all the other Big People) by order of King Elessar, she sent a message to Bywater asking Gilly to meet her at the inn. She didn't go as far as Bree because of the tense nature of her relations with her father's family. The Nightshades are a big family, & she knew she could not be there unbeknownst to them.
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Ealasaid's post for Benia

Bound wrist and ankle, Benia Nightshade lay in the darkness of the abandoned cellar. Despite the skilled healing efforts of the two elves back at the inn, her sprained ankle throbbed under the tightness of the rope. Kaldir, the bounty hunter who had seized her out of her bed at the inn, had been gone for hours. She had already begun to wonder if he was ever going to return. Half of her mind hoped that he would. She would hate to starve to death, alone and forgotten, in the empty cellar. The other half of her mind hoped never to lay eyes on him again. She knew he meant to kill her. Why he had not done so already was a mystery to her.

Thinking back, she remembered how he had brought her to the cellar and dumped her rather unceremoniously on to the dirt floor. From there he had dragged her over to a wooden chopping block, where an axe already waited, but, instead of chopping off her head or hands as she had expected him to do, he had simply given the tribal tattoos on her hands a long stare in the flickering candlelight. Then, inexplicably, he had kissed each of her palms and left, taking the axe with him. She had not seen him since. The candle he had lit when they arrived in the cellar had burned out hours ago. Now, whether he came back or not, Benia had the feeling that she had come to the end of her life. Either way, she was waiting to die. Whether the end came quickly or slowly seemed to be all there was left to determine. The ropes that bound her were strong and the knots, like iron. She knew there would be no wriggling loose.

Shifting her legs to a slightly more comfortable position, Benia pondered the last several days of her life, thinking about the mistakes she had made. The trip to the Forsaken Inn had been a foolish and sentimental thing to do in the first place, and, since arriving there, she had done nothing right or sensible. Actually, in retrospect, she realized she had thrown caution to the wind nearly from the moment she had first crossed the inn's threshold. With that in mind, she had to admit that it was no surprise to find herself in her current predicament.

The worst part of the whole scenario was that she had not only endangered herself, but involved her friend Gilly, as well, which was - to her mind - unforgivable. Benia sighed. She hoped desperately that Gilly was well on her way back toward Bywater and safety by now, not hanging about inviting more trouble. She blamed herself for Gilly's involvement. If she had just not written that letter inviting Gilly to meet her there at the inn, none of this would have happened. Gilly would be safe at home with her family in Bywater, and Benia, herself, would be going about her own business miles away from the inn. There would have been no ill-fated songs, no sprained ankle, and, most of all, no bounty hunter.

She was sure the song was what had summoned the bounty hunter out of the wilds, like a genie from a bottle. She had made the mistake of letting herself get too comfortable in the warmth of the inn's common room and, not only bursting into song, but bursting into song in the most conspicuous way imaginable... in the language of her own nearly extinct Haradrim tribe, complete with finger cymbals. In the darkness, Benia blushed from her own foolishness. She might as well have just burst into flame. It had been no coincidence that the bounty hunter had appeared the very next day. She was sure of it.

The sprained ankle, too, was as much her own fault as anything else. If she had just watched where she was going instead of worrying so much about where the bounty hunter was, she would have seen the pewter tankard left on the stairs. As if that wasn’t enough, she had pretty much sealed her own fate by sending the kind Ranger, Hanasian, who had helped her after her fall on the stairs, on that ridiculous errand to Bree. In all reality, he had been her only protection. As soon as he had gone, the bounty hunter had made his move and the next thing Benia knew, she lay tied in an empty cellar, waiting to die.

She sighed again and was just closing her eyes to try to sleep when the sound of a firm step on the floor over her head jolted her awake. She struggled into a sitting position and edged away as best she could from the narrow staircase that led upward to the abandoned blacksmith’s shop. There was a click and a slide of a bolt, followed by the creak of stiff hinges as the trap door opened over her head. Straining to see through the darkness, she could barely make out the tall shape of the bounty hunter descending the stairs. He carried a small bundle which he set down beside her. A few seconds later, a fresh candle flickered to life. Benia’s amber eyes struggled to adjust to the light as the bounty hunter knelt beside her and untied her wrists. When he had finished, he moved away to take a seat on the stairs.

He nodded toward the bundle he had left on the floor beside her. “I suggest you eat,” he said quietly.

Startled, Benia did as she was told and reached for the bundle. She had not eaten in over twenty-four hours, but it was not until she smelled the rich aroma of Aldarida Boffin’s cooking that she realized she was famished. Even so, she hesitated before taking even the first bite. She turned a curious gaze toward the bounty hunter, who only smiled his peculiar one-sided smile, the candlelight casting his scarred features into sharp planes of dark and light.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking,” he told her, guessing her unspoken question. “I suggest you eat it.”

Benia did as she was told. Even though it was just a cold supper of whole grain bread and cold chicken, she couldn’t remember when any food had ever tasted so good. Watching Kaldir from the corner of her eyes as she ate, she saw that he was simply waiting for her to finish. His sword remained sheathed at his side and there was no sign of an axe. Even the chopping block lay where he had left it. Finally, she gathered her courage to speak.

“If you mean to kill me,” she asked. “Why do you bring me a meal?”

“Perhaps I don’t mean to kill you just yet.” Seeing that she was finished, he rose from his perch on the stairs and gathered the empty crockery back into the bundle. “You’ll need your strength. Can you ride?”

Benia nodded.

Kaldir did not answer immediately, but picked up the rope and retied her wrists, even tighter it seemed than before. “Then we leave on the morrow,” he said at last, casting barely a glance at her bare feet that lay partly visible under the hem of her dress. Without any further explanation, he took up the bundle of now-empty crockery and departed back up the stairs.

Alone in the candlelight, Benia listened as the trap door creaked shut and the outside bolt fell into place with a decisive click.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Nerindel's character - Léspheria

NAME: Léspheria Denfëa

AGE: 2901 (As of the Fourth Age 12)

RACE: Noldor (Fathers line Fingolfin, Mothers line Finarfin)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS : Léspheria carries a Silvery grey bow made from the wood of a Mallorn tree, it has the gold leaf and flower design, of these great trees. It is longer and stouter than most. Her brown leather quiver hangs on her back and is always filled with arrows she Fletches herself.

Her short sword is of Noldorin design and hangs on her left side, it bears the crest of the house of Finarfin on the pommel. This sword is dear to Léspheria as it was once her mothers, given to her by her father on his departure from Middle Earth.

Léspheria also carries a small belt knife given to her by Amandur on their first battle together, it has a black handle and a grey blade.

Léspheria has a light shirt of silver chain mail, made for her by the Gwaith-I-Mírdain that resided in Imladris before the war. She wears it concealed under her clothes.

APPEARANCE: Léspheria is tall and slender, her long, straight, dark hair falls halfway down her back and in sunlight the golden colouring of her mothers kin can be seen flecked through it. Her complexion is pale and unblemished, some of her fathers kin liken her to Aredhel, the only daughter of Fingolfin, but when next to her mother it is obvious that Léspheria's looks come from her, they share the same Almond shaped grey eyes, not a dull but bright and piercing, almost as though they could see right into your heart.

Léspheria is no stranger to wearing the fine apparel of court, but prefers to wear clothes of her own design. She favours blues and silvers, but when travelling she wears the forest colours favoured by her kin. It is not often that she is seen in trousers preferring long skirts/dresses designed by herself to be practical for fighting and wandering the wilds. She wears calf high brown leather boots and a hooded cloak of a light but warm woven silken material, that seems to reflect the colour of its surroundings, grey in the hue of twilight under the trees; green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk silver as water under the stars. It is clasped at the neck by a silver brooch shaped in the likeness of Galathilion and bears a crescent moon. (the Emblem of the Eldar)

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Léspheria is Altruistic in nature, which on more than one occasion has got her into trouble, but she is also self-sufficient and capable of making the best of a bad situation.

Léspheria is warm and friendly to those she meet's that she senses are of good heart, to those who are not she is closed and guarded. She also has a tendency to follow her instincts, but never at the risk to others.

She possesses the innate ability to sense the emotions of those around her, this is what allows her to be more trusting than most of her kin, but this ability has its down sides, not only can she sense the emotions of others, but of her mother and twin brother she can actually feel when they are in pain or torment and in turn their pain is laid upon her. Only a few of her family and Amandur know of this weakness in her ability (As they see it). She also possesses the healing ability of her kin, using her senses to locate the site of injury and manipulate it into a state of mending/healing.

Léspheria is a keen Archer and woods woman, both skills taught her by her father and brother, she also carries the wisdom of her kin and is learned in the histories of her people, she harbours the fear that one day she will fall pray to the pride of her ancestors.

HISTORY: Léspheria was born in the TA 132 to Valaindon, her mother who was a High elf of Lothlorien and a descendant of the noble house of Finarfin, and Finderon, her father who was a High elf of Imladris and a descendent of the house of Fingolfin. Both Lespheria and her twin brother Lóthaniel were brought up in Imladris, but when Léspheria started to show signs that she possessed her mothers gifts she was taken to Lothlorien to study under those of her mothers house who remained after the SA.

In Lothlorien she learnt how to discipline her ability and use it to help others. On the eventual realisation that her gift could be use in a darker more sinister way she was physically sick to her core and began to fear her gift, but the words of the lady of the woods healed her of this fear and she carries them in her heart always 'The choices we make are what make us who we are.' and from that day to this she choose to only use her gifts to help others.

In Lothlorien Léspheria also learnt the finer arts, Dressmaking, embroidery, music and poetry she was also taught Archery and Herblore, she learned quickly and became skilful , she learnt also the histories of her kin and the family trees of each line fascinated her most, she soon discovered the there was a space missing in the family tree of her mothers kin, but when she ask about this, she was told that she was mistaken or that it was a mistake made by the writer. But always she sensed that they hid the truth and where ashamed to admit it, so she pursued it no further.

About the year 1974 TA. Léspheria returned with her family to Rivendell, in this year the North kingdom ended and the witch king over ran Arthedain and took Fornost. In this time many messengers passed between Rivendell and the Grey havens and the following year it was decided that Rivendell would send a force to aid in removing the witch king, from the northern lands. On the day that her father and brother were due to leave Léspheria had a premonition of their death in the form of a dream. She begged for them not to go, but they thought her dream no more than anxiety. Léspheria was not so convinced and against their wishes she followed the host north.

It was here that she found out her acute link to her brother, as a blow struck him she fell from her horse experiencing his pain, it was here too that her friendship with the Dunedain began. An Arnorian soldier seeing an elven woman in the battle came to her aid, she persuaded him to help her search for her brother, together they found Her father and brother both injured and with her expert healing skills she healed both, The man from who Amandur is descended faught off the enemy so that she could work unhindered. After the victourious battle Léspheria helped tend others that were injured in the battle.

After the battle of Fornost, under the instruction of Lord Elrond the Elves of Rivendell, taught the survivors of Arnor, the skills required to become rangers, in this time Léspheria too decided that she wished to learn these skills, so both her father and Brother taught her, they were surprised at how quickly she learned and how adaptable she could be. By the time rumours reach Rivendell of a power returned to Dol Guldur, Léspheria is now aiding the elves in the training of the Dunedain.

At about this time Lésperia's mother left Rivendell, and her Father finally tells both of them about Naiore, but not everything. He tells them only of her crimes but not of their relationship to this woman or of the friendship that their mother once shared with Naiore.

Lóthaniel later finds out that Naiore and their mother are cousins and that after Naiore disappeared from Belfalas, their mother helped to look for her fearing that some ill had befallen her. In this time she met their father and he agreed to help her search, but to no avail. Valaindon returned to Rivendell with Finderon. When Finderon returned from the Battle of Dagorlad he did not have the heart to tell Valaindon of what they saw and of the terror Naiore struck in their hearts, for he knew she would not believe it, he too wouldn't if he had not seen it with his own eyes. But after the disaster of the Gladden Fields all the elves learned of Naiores crimes, Valaindon refused to believe what she was told and rode often in search of her cousin, but all she found was a trail of heinous crimes. so she returned to Finderon and chose to live in denial. but of this Lothaniel says nothing to Léspheria.

In the time that Valaindon is away from her family she finds Naiore, not far from Lothlorien. Naiore reading her cousins thoughts pretends to have been tortured and used by Sauron and forced to do the treacherous things that she has done, knowing that her old friend would show pity on her. Valaindon thinking she was right all along about her friend, makes the mistake of not reading her cousins emotions. Valaindon meets secretly with Naiore (As her cousin feigns to be to afraid and ashamed to face her kin) and brings her news of Lothlorien, it is through Valaindon that she learns that Menecin still loves her and longs for her return, Naiore then slowly begins to draw secrets from her cousin regarding the defence of both Lothlorien and Rivendell. With the coming of Menecin to Rivendell, Valaindon realises she has been deceived and the pride of her kin engulfs her and in rage she relentlessly peruses Naiore who she finally sees as her enemy. the following year she losses the trail, but does not give up searching. She is eventually captured at the end of the year 3017 and is taken to Barad-dûr, where she again meets Naiore who takes great pains to torture her and break her elven spirit, but with the fall of Sauron she is forced to flee leaving Valaindon for dead in the pits of Barad-dûr. She is eventually found by Amandur and other Rangers that dared to enter the great fortress after the war.Of these events Léspheria knows only bits and pieces.

During this time she helps the Dunedain and later she protects the borders of Rivendell, In the year that her mother was captured to the day she died (the best part of a year) Léspheria fell into a fever from which none could cure. Léspheria experienced her mothers torture at the hands of Naiore, though she tells none of this, and only learns of her mothers torturer some years later.

After the war Lésperia's mothers body is brought back to Rivendell, in his grief their father goes with the ring bearers to Valinor, but Both Léspheria and her brother choose to remain. In the 2nd year of the fourth age Léspheria is asked by Lords Elladan and Elrohir, if she would consider becoming one of their emissaries between men and elves, to which she humbly excepted.

It was in this role that she found out the full extent of Naiores crimes, and that the council of King Elassar wished to bring her to justice. Their were a few elves who also wanted to see Naiore brought to justice, but Léspheria not wishing any kinslaying convinced the council of elves to allow King Elessar to bring Naiore to stand trial in Gondor.

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Nerindel's Post for Léspheria


The midday sun shone through the open stable doors as Léspheria finished packing her white elven mare. Turning towards the doors and shielding her sharp elven grey eyes, she watched the tall figure of her friend, as he scanned the road beyond the courtyard. She recalled their first meeting. The young ranger had been sent to the halls of learning in Rivendell to meet with his tutor, but on entering the halls and seeing only her, he had winked mischeviously and asked if she knew were he could find the master of the halls. She managed a weak smile as she remembered Amandur's apparent embarrassment, as she informed him that she was to be his tutor.

He must have sensed her watching for at that moment he turn to face her, a warm smile playing on his lips. His years now began to show on his handsome, but rugged features. Léspheria kept her smile as she walked towards him, glad that the great war had not adversely effected him as much as it had so many others. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she told him,looking in the direction of the inn that had been her home for the past two weeks. She slowly drew her gaze from the inn and returned to Losseserme's stall, the mare snorted impatiently, as she let Léspheria lead her from the stall to the hitching post outside. Amandur joined her and together they made their way back to the inn.

(1)"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" The elven words slipped off her tongue before she realised that she had said them aloud. "Don't let it worry you, I promise you that I will look out for the young woman's well being as long as my task keeps me here!" Amandur reassured her. She nodded her thanks, glad that he had chosen to keep his watch for Naiore in the inn and not abandon it for her sake.

Amandur pushed open the dark wooden door and held it open for her, "I will wait for you out here!" she nodded and went inside alone. The common room of the forsaken inn was already busy and alive with conversations and the occasional burst of laughter, the dark corners held hastened whisperings and those wishing no other company than their own. Léspheria determinedly made her way to the bar were Fimbriel the auburn haired Rohirrim innkeeper was rushing backwards and forwards filling tankards for the many thirsty patrons, who had chosen to stop in and quench their thirst on this hot midsummer afternoon.

Léspheria raised her hand to catch the innkeepers attention, Fimbriel looked her way and signalled that she would be with her just as soon as she could, while she waited her eyes roamed around the room, The kitchen door swung on squeaky hinges as Rowana Brandybuck hurried back and forth bring lunch to the inn's hungry guests and Amarantha Willow weaved expertly around the tables mopping up spills and refilling empty jars. Léspheria suddenly felt a pang of guilt that she would be leaving when the inn was so obviously busy, But just then she felt the pain in her left shoulder, reminding her that her brother needed her help more.

As she struggled to focus her mind so she could block out the pain, she noticed something else. "Amarantha, has not Mrs banks or her exotic friend come down for lunch today" she asked gently grasping the young hobbit woman's arm as she passed. Amarantha quickly scanned the room, then shook her head "No! Miz Léspheria I have not seen either one all day, but it has been a might busy today" she shrugged apologetically. "Thank you Amarantha, Miss Nightshade did mention that she was planning to leave, maybe they left early." Amarantha nodded reassured and went back to her work. Léspheria was not so sure, but before she could think any more on this puzzle she heard someone speaking to her "And what can I do for you this fine afternoon" Fimbriel beamed as she brushed a few stray auburn hairs from her face.

"I am afraid that I must take my leave of your fine establishment, my brother is injured and I must go to him at once" Léspheria sadly told her. Fimbriel's smile faded and was replaced with a look of genuine concern "I'm sorry to hear that, of course you must go to your brother, is there anything I can do?" she asked sympathetically. "No, No, I have everything I need, I gave my room key to Vanwe and ask her to hold the room till my return, my journey requires haste, so many things had to be left behind." Fimbriel nodded, then the pair said their goodbyes.

As she left the inn she saw Amandur waiting next to her mount, he helped her up then taking her hand in his he whispered softly, " Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. She then turned Losseserme and set off at a slow trot until she came to the rear of the inn, she had decided that she would go south-west through the downs. She gently bent over and whispered into the mares ear, (2)"Vanne linte!" Losseserme then broke in to a fast gallop, they speed across the downs and did not stop till nightfall.

Under the eaves of a small wooded area not far from the Greenway Léspheria made her camp, after eating a meagre supper she lay down on her bed roll and looked up at the stars, The watcher as always twinkled brighter than the others and as she watched it she could not help thinking on the puzzles that the past three days had revealed to her. The first being the appearance of Vanwe who seemed to be a puzzle in herself, her face was that of a criminal who was much sought after by men and elf alike, but her deep blue sapphire eyes, revealed that she was the daughter of one who remained under the protection of her people. Vanwe had unknowingly revealed that they shared the same bloodline, confirming her suspicions that Niaore was the missing name in Finarfin's family tree, something that her brother and her kin had chosen to keep from her, although she could not yet figure out why?

Her thoughts then drifted back to the southern woman, Benia and her hobbit friend, Gilly and their lack of presence that morning, she only hoped that they had taken her advice and left the inn in secret, Both herself ,Vanwe and a ranger named Hanasian had tended Benia after a rather nasty fall, Vanwe had treated the womans sprained ankle, revealing to her that they also shared the gift of healing. She only had to reduce the swelling and bind it,Vanwe's raw talent was impressive. But on leaving the southern woman to her rest she had seen another ranger who had introduced himself to her earlier as Kaldir, watching the room with great intent. The southern woman was not the only person that she felt the ranger was interested in, later that same day she had caught him spying on Vanwe, which he denied when she confronted him, she had guessed that Vanwe would have often been mistaken for her mother and she had been determined that it would not happen again, not while she could help it!

Kaldir's lack of emotions had made her suspicious of his intent, but his words had revealed that she had been right to be concerned, "she resembles an acquaintance of mine from the South. I was curious to learn her name to determine if it was she. I was hesitant to approach her directly as the last time we met was under, how shall I say it? Less than optimal circumstances." Sudden pity had lead her to lower her sword and let his reasons pass, she realised that he was yet another victim of Naiore's malice. Strong emotions had surfaced unbidden as he spoke, ones revealing much pain and hatred, emotions that Léspheria feared to explore having felt them strongly through others. The first in her own mother and then in Vanwe's father and now this ranger!

Léspheria slowly closed her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, the memories of the emotions she felt from all those who had encountered Naiore Dannon, plaguing even her dreams.


---------------------------------------------
1"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" : "I am worried about Vanwe!"
2"Vanne linte!" : "Go swift!"


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Nerindel's character - Amandur

NAME: Amandur II

AGE: 62 (as of midsummer of year 12 of the fourth age.)

RACE: Men (Dunedan)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS : Amandur carries a numanorean long sword, an heirloom of his family. He also carries an elvish dagger, a small black handled belt knife (one of a pair, Léspheria has the other) and a crude bow, which he uses mainly for hunting.

APPEARANCE: Amandur is 6 ft 2 " in height and has a handsome but rugged look about him. His dark, almost black hair sits just below his jaw line. His Hazel eyes hold the wisdom of his age, he looks only to be in his early forties. His complexion is tanned due to weathering, he is sometimes clean shaven and sometimes not depending on circumstances, (ie in the wilds he sees no need to shave) Amandur has several battle scars, one across his left bicep another across his right leg and a small scar across the clef of his chin are all reminders of the battles of the Pelennor fields and the Morannon. The scar on his right leg sometimes bothers him in colder weather.

Amandur wears black leather pants, white/light grey shirts and dark grey /green tunics that bear the emblem of King Elessar. His high black boots are of supple leather and have seen much wear. He also has a cloak of a heavy dark-green cloth.

PERSONALITY: Although Hardened by war, Amandur managed to remain good hearted and kind. Among his friends and kin he is loyal, trustworthy and well liked, But to his enemies he is fierce, relentless and unforgiving. He tends to speak his mind and is not quick to trust. He has the qualities of being a great leader but prefers not to lead when possible, but like most great leaders this sometimes happens weather he will it or not.

STRENGTHS: Although proficient with a bow, he favours his sword and is very skilful in its use, both on foot or mounted, he has always had an natural ability with horses, his own in particular, the black charger comes when he whistles, and the horse always seems to anticipate his movements, before they are made. Amandur learnt much from the elves during his stay in Rivendell and has become wise in the way of the wilds. He also follows his instincts, but not at the cost of others.

WEAKNESSES: Amandur's weaknesses are his love for Léspheria and his growing over protectiveness of her. Also the scar on his leg is know to give him bother in colder weather or if hit or knocked in some way.

HISTORY: Amandur was born in the Grey Havens on the 31st day of Naríë in the year 2969 TA (1369 Shire reckoning). Amandur was the eldest son of Amandur I and Norvanna both Dunedain of the north and both Rangers, which in itself is unusual as usually only the men became rangers, but Amandur's mother was strong both in stature and will. Cirdan granted her protection in the grey havens when with child. Amundur and his younger brother Aldred spent their child hood in the Grey havens with their mother, their father visited as often as he could.

There was only two years between Amandur and his brother, so the pair grew up together in relative peace under the protection of Cirdan, they both shared a love of boats and a respect for the sea. Their mother and father (when present) took great pains to teach both their children the use of weapons, both brothers favoured the long sword. At the age of 20 Amandur's father took him to Rivendell to train under the tutelage of the Elves.

It is here that he first meets the elven twins Lóthaniel and Léspheria Denfëa. Lóthaniel teaches him the skills required to become a Ranger like his father and Léspheria teaches him of his ancestry and the history of his people. His brother joins him two years later and the four become firm friends. During one battle they shared (a wayward band of orcs making the mistake of leaving the safety of the misty mountains and entering Eriador) his Female elven companion was pressed by Four orcs and as he ran to her aid he thought her done for, but by the time he reached her, battling orcs of his own on the way the four orcs lay dead at her feet, It was then that he saw Léspheria in a new light, as she stood there breathing heavily, with her sword in one hand and a broken dagger in the other, he saw a strong, determined, beautiful but gentle elven woman that he knew from that moment he had lost his heart too. It was also at this battle that Amandur gave Léspheria one of his long twin belt knives, to replace her broken dagger.

About the year 3000 the Rangers guarded the Shire more closely at the request of the White Council and their chief Aragorn. Amandur, his brother and a few others were charged with Guarding Sarn ford, but on the evening of the 22nd day of Yavannie the Black riders drove them from the ford and four of the black riders pursued them eastward. They returned to Rivendell to tell Lord Elrond that the Riders are in the Shire.

Word soon came from Lothlorien that Aragorn required the aid of his kin, Halbarad, Elladan and Elrohir quickly gathered those who could be found and they headed south with all haste, it was here that the two Brothers were reunited with their father. After the hard journey south they were reunited with their chief and rode with the grey company through the paths of the dead and fought the Cosairs of Umbar at Pelargir, taking their ships. Amandur and his brother with their knowledge of sailing were charged with one of the great black masted ships and they sailed up the River to Harlond, to assail their enemy from the flank and rear, on the Pelennor Fields.

It was here that Amandur's Brother and father fell, he did not grieve his loss for he knew that they had both fought fiercely for something that they all believed in, instead he worried for his mother and how this news would affect her, Amandur received his arm and leg injury in this battle, while battling the fierce men of Harad. He tended and bound his own injuries and rode with his kin to the Black gates were he proved himself once more in battle.

After the fall of Sauron and the defeat of his dark army, Amandur remained in Minas Tirith, He was one of the few that dared to enter the great fortress to look for prisoners and any hidden enemies. It was here that he and a few other rangers found Valaindon (Léspheria's mother). She was close to death and they could do nothing for her, but before dying she bade him tell Léspheria that she was sorry, and to tell both her children to protect the gift, but before she could explain she passed away.

After the wedding of their chieftain and now King to the Lady Arwen of Rivendell, he rode with the elven host back to Rivendell bearing Valaindon's body and her final words, there he learnt that Léspheria had spent the whole year in a state of Fitful fever that no one could explain, but on the date that Amandur had watched Valaindon pass away she had miraculously recovered to full health, as though nothing had ailed her, but upon seeing her Amandur knew that what had ailed her would not ever completely leave her.

He Returned to the havens and brought his mother back to Gondor, but the following year she died from the grief of her loss. Amandur remained in the service of the king and was glad when he found out that Léspheria was to be an Emissary for Rivendell. On her visits they always found time to talk and take long walks. In his heart he greatly desired to return north, so when King Elessar asked for people to go north and re-establish the northern city of Annúminas, he was one of the first to Volunteer.

His Knowledge of Naiore was gained from Lóthaniel and the courts of Gondor were she was listed as one of Saurons minions that had not fallen at her masters defeat and was still at large. There were many who sought this woman and from what Lothaniel had told him of this Elf he was in no hurry to meet her, but if called upon to find her he would.

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Elora's character - Naiore

NAME: Naiore

AGE: 6,450 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS:
Naiore possess a range of weapons. She carries a curved long sword of Noldorin make and numerous daggers. She is at all times in possession of a long silken cord she uses as her garrote. She owns a range of torture devices, some made for her and some she invented herself over the years. Most dangerous of all is her ability to sense and manipulate the emotional states of others. She is expert in breaking apart the spirit and souls of others, inflicting pain to an infinite degree.

Naiore has adapted the typical amour of her people to suit her needs. She blends a light, finely wrought chain mail with leather. Her amour is as black as the unlit night.

APPEARANCE: Naiore is fair by Noldorin standards. She is said to be reminiscent of Galadriel in he beauty. Her hair is golden and hangs to her waist. Her eyes are a starlit silvery grey, wide, clear and large. She is slender and deceptively strong for all of her fragile beauty. Her voice is velvety and her skin is without flaw. Naiore usually wears a serene expression that belies the intensity of what passes through her mind.

Naiore favors opulent clothing, silks, velvets and brocades. She often wears jewelry, and was an incongruous figure as she passed through the halls of Barad Dur in her finery. She has exquisite taste and prefers luxuriant indulgences. Even her amour and leather are impeccable. Despite her work, Naiore is fastidious and has not great like of blood and gore. When not in amour, Naiore resembles the highly born Elven noble woman she is.

However, her inky amour is known throughout the southern lands and is etched on the minds of survivors. It is that, combined with her serene expression and emerald eyes that most remember no matter how much they crave to forget.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Naiore is a complex blend of some of the strongest abilities and worst flaws in her kindred. She is a self-possessed and highly disciplined character. Ambitious and driven, she has contempt for weakness such as she sees it. She is manipulative and exploits her appearance whenever possible. Naiore has a formidable intellect, and is calculating. Her curiosity and need for knowledge are what rules her. She has a fascination for the baser darker and wilder aspect of life.

Naiore has no time for crudeness or other indecency. Indeed, she can be the soul of decorum and sophisticated grace until such time as she is murdering you. Naiore is a loner, rarely forming any lasting relationships. She avoids openly lying where ever possible, but uses deception readily. Naiore is tenacious. She refuses to admit defeat.

She has considerable contempt for rulers and nobles, and an implacable hatred of Numenorian and Eldar alike. A sensualist, Naiore’s weakness is for finer things in life and beauty. She believes herself superior to most around her. Any compassion or capacity to love is hidden deeply. Naiore is an Elf who believes all is lost and henceforth she has nothing to loose. The only limits she observes are those she sets herself.

HISTORY:
Naiore was born 12 S.A in Belfalas during the time where her people started to rise to dominance. Elven cities were being founded across the land and it was a time of great hope. She was born into a noble family, her father and mother both holding a place at Gil-Galad’s court. Naiore was also born with the ability to sense the emotions of those around her. This ability grew as she did. A serious child, often lost in her own world, she was doted upon by both parents. Naiore was both fascinated and slightly repulsed by other people. She sought few friends and had little regard for the opinions of others.

As she grew older, her mother began to wonder about her daughter. They tried to induce Naiore to participate in the society in which she had been born. Whilst she was not openly rebellious, she found ingenious ways to avoid or discourage such ventures. As her gift grew, Naiore noticed a discrepancy between the façade of civilization and the inner emotions of those within it. She became fascinated with impulses that many refused to acknowledge existed within themselves. The forbidden nature of her inquiry seduced her further. When her forays became too confronting, Naiore was prohibited from further investigation.

It was then that Naiore realized that she was somehow wayward and different. She became more isolated, and developed contempt for the apparent foolishness of her parents and kin. Meanwhile, she continued to explore the more fundamental aspects of personality such as fear, anger, pain, greed and lust. Her pride grew, and she discovered she had a certain power from this knowledge. In particular, pain attracted her. It was so prevalent in those who had survived the First Age.

During this time of secret forbidden knowledge, Naiore met and became betrothed to Menecin, another who was different. War was brewing over the sea, and Naiore could sense a power growing. It tempted her. Proud and contemptuous of her own kindred, Naiore sensed that many of her forbidden questions could be asked and mayhap answered by this new power. Then she would have new knowledge and with that so much more. The alternative was a stultifying life as wife to a wandering, itinerant bard whose insights into the emotional jungle were limited to songs and poems. Or perhaps she could beg leave to serve as Galadriel’s hand maiden. It was not enough.

She waited as war loomed larger and larger. She became distant, for she had already left. Her ambitions always traveled far ahead of her. On a stormy night, Naiore abandoned Belfalas in the year 3429. When Sauron returns to Middle-earth, Naiore is waiting for him. As Menecin and her people sought her, Naiore found herself in a new place. She was both welcomed and mistrusted. It amused Sauron greatly to have an Elf in service with orcs. She was tested, time and again, and grew in stature within Mordor.

Her special talents were encouraged and grown. She became adept at interrogation and torture. She was able to plan and execute terror campaigns that could not be left to orcs nor even entrusted to Wraiths. Naiore sought one answer in particular. She would often ask victims in the throes of their last moments, “From where does fear spawn?” The answer never came, but her hunger for it did not abate. Sauron used her throughout Khand and Harad, to inspire obedience and terror in the lands under his yoke. She worked alone, and proved gifted. Her discipline, ability and determination made her a horrific weapon and she ranged widely.

Naiore entered Rohan for the first time in the year 3430 S.A and there began to bring Mordor’s insidious terror to the north. She preyed for long years upon the Men of that land. Rumor of her spread, but it was not until the Battle of Dagorlad that Naiore openly emerged. She fought with Sauron’s hosts against the Last Alliance, Elven fair with foul shadow at her back. She slew Elf and Man alike, in the grip of terrible desperation. Her kindred saw her and recoiled in horror at what she had become.

At the defeat of Sauron, Naiore fled south with those that survived. Barad-dur was under siege. She plunged into Khand and Harad, where her terror still kept the Men there compliant, and waited. She could sense Sauron still and she had nowhere else to go. Naiore slipped into Dol Guldur over the long years, and once again aided Sauron in her addictive search for power and knowledge. She made one detour that was not at Sauron’s bidding, and it is rumored that she did this more than once.

Naiore encountered Menecin. She all but destroyed him through deception, cruelty, manipulation and suffering. She thought him dead when she left him again in the year 2091 T.A. When she discovered she was pregnant, she believed it was Menecin’s revenge from beyond the grave. She kept all knowledge of her pregnancy to herself. Her competitors in Mordor would use it against her. Elven fundamental beliefs prevented her from ridding herself of the child. Naiore went back to Harad, much to the wrath and chagrin of Sauron, and bore Vanwe. She sensed her child’s gifts could perhaps rival her own. Naiore made an arrangement with the remote village. They were to keep Vanwe there, in perpetuity, or suffer her full ferocity. That arranged, Naiore returned to Mordor and Sauron. Vanwe’s existence was secret.

The fall of Sauron brought Naiore’s career to a sudden end. Gone was her stature and position. Gone was the protection Mordor offered her. Gone also was the reason she lived. She had no answers still, and the prospects of ever finding them seemed remote. Naiore again went to ground, this time utterly alone. Her people were leaving, yet she had no place with them. Her foes were hunting for her, and her usual safe haunts were no longer safe. Bereft of ambition, and having sacrificed everything for knowledge she did not have, Naiore is faced with a crisis. She had been waiting for the day when Sauron would have dominion over the lands. Revenge on those who had taken her future from her galvanized her into action. As she set about, Naiore learnt of a land called the Shire, citizens of which had engineered this ignominious defeat. Once again, she sets herself a northward course, choosing that over accepting defeat. The Shire would be made to suffer more than Khand, Harad and Rohan ever had.

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Elora's post for Naiore

The morning shadows proved stubborn despite the rising of the sun in her summer glory. Naiore made the most of what little providence seemed availabled in their existance. She remained still and at relative ease in the embrace of a shadow cast by the ancient bole of a fig tree. It loomed massive over her, surrounded by the adjoining woods that carpeted the land around the inn she was watching.

Some may account it a pleasant place. For Naiore, it was a land of failure and frustration, a wretched place and she had little love for the tree or anything else that lived within it's bounds. She was difficult to see, folded as she was in morning darkness. Her inky leathers bore the stains of hard travel. Mud daubed her boots, all but obscuring the delicate silver tracing a vine up her boots. Her state and presence gave rise to a great many questions, the answers to which Naiore did not greatly care to entertain as she cast a simmering glance towards the Forsaken Inn.

Rangers, cursed scions of Numenor, had pushed her hard through the wilderness. She had managed to elude them, her skills tested as they had not been in the past 12 years. Still, although she was for the moment safe, she was far from pleased. It grated to be sitting beneath a shedding tree encrusted with mud. She should, right at this moment, be running in free abandon further to the north. She should, as she sat in darkness gathering her wits and thoughts, be bringing a new tide and era to a land that had escaped the harsher ravanges of war.

Naiore flicked a braid back over her shoulder, it's golden weight added to the other seven that hung down her back. Instead, she had been cheated of even the small prize of the Shire. Rangers and her own people conspired to hem her in and bring her down like an animal. They would take, bound hand and foot, to face justice as the ignorant liked to call it. There was no justice. Those who sought it were fools, nothing more. If anything, two ages spent in the turmoil of Middle-earth had taught her that.

She who had held such power in countless lands, mastered terror and was mistress of the hounds of war and hell, sat in a cold wood. Even had she tried for the Havens, she could not penetrate the bristling ring set in place by Elessar around the Shire. His name curdled in her mouth. Twelve years spent running for this!

Naiore raised starlit grey eyes to consider the Inn once more. Her face was impassive, as often it was, carved elven beauty remarkable even amongst her own kin. Her face had beheld horror untold, she had wrought it with her own hands, for reasons few could understand. Now she sat waiting for an incipient snare to spring, dirty and desperate but not without her pride. She wore that like armour. It had gotten her through before this day.

The Inn was quiet in the early morning. Her gaze shifted to the stables, where it was said her daughter was. Naiore could see no sign of Vanwe just yet, but her sources were adamant. They well knew the price their lies would earn them. It was a difficult death at the hands of a Ravenner, merciless at the pinnicle of Sauron's Order of terror and suffering.

Somewhere was a Ranger too, one she knew. She had expected to find Kaldir skulking in the forest. Such acts were not beneath him as they were her. The presence of both Kaldir and Vanwe was not a coincidence that could be ignored. She should have killed the whelp when she was born, unwanted by-blow that Vanwe was. The idea that some long buried maternal instinct prevented her was laughable should the consequences of her restraint not be so perilous.

Vanwe should be well south, in the desolate Haradwaithe, kept with the goats and the barbarians she had left her with. The fact that she was not, had left and survived the journey north and eluded capture told Naiore much. The fact that Vanwe was known to be tracing her told her more. She would be a woman now, mature and no longer a helpless babe. Perhaps she could use Kaldir to put an end to her and her threat. She could see to Kaldir after that.

But the fallen Ranger would need to be pushed, if only to see past his immediate mercenary loss in Vanwe's death. It remained to be seen if she could achieve that. He had proved difficult to break, those years ago. Kaldir was a rare challenge, one she had enjoyed then as she hoped to soon now.

Naiore waited out the morning. Soon they would rise and begin their days. Vanwe would appear. She worked in the stables, assisting a man who was no real threat for the likes of Naiore. Kill Vanwe and Kaldir, attempt again to push north without a tail, and see if bloodshed could not find the Shire afterall. She was without any other purpose, and she would pursue this with a breathtakingly singular will that proved stronger than steel.

The Free Peoples could not hope to contend with her. Sauron himself had never truly conquered all of her heart and soul. Menecin neither. In the face of all she had endured and perpetrated throughout the wars of the Second and Third Age, rising time and again, ceaselessly vigilant in her quest for knowledge that had consumed her life, achieving the death of her daughter and Kaldir was nothing but a light aside.

Perhaps, Naiore mollified herself, one of them held what she looked for. Perhaps they could tell her from where fear spawned. It was unlikely, but possible. She held to that, for it made the ignomy of her failure in recent months to reach the Shire, her fugitive life since Sauron's fall lesser. How they would have laughed to see her reduced to such a state, provided they escaped her with the facility to laugh intact within their bodies and souls. She could endure a rough night and hard travel if it meant the achievement of all she had endured and suffered for.

Whilst her riddle of fear circled in her head, Naiore watched from the trees still garbed in morning shadow. She needed but the slightest opportunity to begin, and she had tired of idle waiting and ceasless flight.

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Elora's character - Menecin

NAME: Menecin

AGE: 6,729 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS:
Menecin possess the weaponry expected of an Elf who lived through three tumultuous ages. He has a sword and bow and daggers, all of Noldorin make. His amour is typical Noldo, a combination of light steel and leather worn by all who fought in battle. At the opening of the 4th Age, he has all but forgotten weapons and amour.

APPEARANCE:
Menecin is a tall Noldo by their standards. He has the dark hair of his people and their fairness also. His eyes are a piercing blue sapphire and they see far indeed. He is not powerfully built, but is by no means thin or weedy. His hands are long fingered and deft, a mark of his profession and ability. His voice is deep and musical and his smile, when it is seen, is as bright as the lamps of his people.

Menecin’s clothing reflects his Elven heritage, although in latter days he pays it little attention. He wears the natural fabrics favored by his people in deep shades of jewel color. Menecin favors royal blue, and has done since he was a boy. He is no stranger to elaborate court garb, however he prefers more functional clothing by habit. In the times he roamed the land, he went clad as a hunter and warrior, for he was a little of both at that time.

His trademark possessions are his richly carved leather pack, in which he carries his papers and music, his flute made of mithril silver and his lap harp which he carries over his shoulder in a beaten and scuffed hard leather case.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Menecin was born at a time when Elves were discovering Men in Beleriand. He is well acquainted with the Edain, wandered amongst them. He showed his gift for music at an early age, something his parents thought held extraordinary promise. He was a quiet child, peaceful and patient. He learnt quickly. He had little to say, and most of that he said through his craft as a bard. Those around him realized that when he did speak, Menecin was an individual that bore listening to. He had an artist’s insight and perspective. Fostered by Maglor, Menecin attained a first hand understanding of the depth of grief and woe that beset the Noldor, the Sons of Feanor in particular. He is no stranger to sorrow and strife.

Menecin’s solemn nature sometimes seemed fey. He formed few close relationships and was not a man given to whim. What he did, he did with all of his being, possessed as he was of great passion and the strength to feed those passions.

He is a capable fighter, terrifying when battle merges with a passion. He fought in the First Age where necessary and acquitted himself well at such times. He has little interest in such reputations though. He acquired an air about him that resulted in few people wishing to trifle with him. He was quiet, possibly dangerous, and liable to see things exactly as they are no matter how bleak that may be.

He is sometimes seen as taciturn, and is stubborn. He resists being led. In recent years, Menecin is a shell of his former self. He has lost his passion for life, but cannot bring himself to let go of mortal lands. He is dangerously melancholy, given at times to bouts of black rage that consume all around him. Those few whom truly know him see a stranger. Many think him insane, until they see the entirely sane streak of agony in his eyes. There are few who can withstand his glance now, and what little music he puts his mind too is achingly painful.

HISTORY:
Menecin was born in 305 F.A during the time of the “Long Peace” in Beleriand. His birth coincided with the emergence of Men, and so Menecin grew up at a time when the Noldo were discovering the Edain and times were relatively good for the Exiles. His parents were of good standing, although not high born. They discovered his musical promise and he went to be fostered by Maglor to study the craft of the bard. There, Menecin developed a reputation for his musical ability and his love of language.

Menecin also discovered the tragedy of the Noldor. His mentor was bound by the terrible oath that caught all Feanor’s Sons. The Long Peace ended, war fell on Beleriand and the oath claimed Maglor. Menecin fought battle and acquitted himself well in that time. He was habitually quiet and somewhat grim, and had little time for merriment during the First Age. The tragedy of his people touched him deeply, particularly when he turned away from Maglor towards the end of the First Age. In this time, Menecin started to emerge as a gifted composer and musician.

Menecin decided to remain in Middle-earth, restless and unready to go to Valinor with the bulk of his people and his parents. He drifted with the remnant of the Noldor to what is now known as the Bay of Belfalas. For a time, Menecin again knew peace. His reputation grew and he rose in status in the court of Gil-Galad. Menecin largely kept to himself, the merriment of the feasts interesting him little. From time to time he would wander the wild places of the world.

It was as he returned from one such a journey that Menecin first encountered Naiore. She was at that time a maiden. Like him, she had little taste for feasts and had strayed from one on that fateful day to wander in a stand of fir trees by the shore of the ocean. As she danced over the sand to the wind singing in the fir trees, Menecin watched. Beautiful even amongst her own kin, he knew himself lost as he watched her move. He added his voice to the song of the wind, and a courtship was begun.

Menecin found cause to remain in Belfalas and not wander. He found in Naiore a muse of sorts. She fascinated and captivated him, most unlike the other maidens of their people. She was of noble blood, descended from Finarfin, and he harbored little hope of marrying her. Yet, Menecin sought her hand and to his enduring surprise was granted Naiore. They became betrothed in 3262 S.A, the year that Sauron was taken as prisoner to Numenor. Unrest after a long peace was stirring again, and Menecin decided to wait until that unrest had calmed before he wedded Naiore. It proved to be a fateful decision.

Menecin, an experienced warrior from the First Age and now betrothed to a noblewoman, found his responsibilities in this time increased. He was drawn into Gil-Galad’s court and there he felt the winds of war blowing around him. He noticed a change in Naiore too, something he attributed to the growing strife. He knew his love was sensitive to such things. Menecin did not discover that Naiore had vanished until her distraught father came to him seeking his daughter.

Thinking that she had fallen prey to the growing shadow that Numenor was falling rapidly under, Menecin abandoned court in search of her. His search failed, as did that of his kinsmen. Haunted by guilt and grief, for Menecin loves deeply or not at all, he refused to abandon hope. War returned to Middle-earth with Sauron, and he became embroiled in the Last Alliance as did many of his kin for he followed Gil-Galad.

Menecin was not at the battle of Gladden Fields. Word came to him after that terrible battle of Naiore. She was alive, it was said, and she fought with Sauron. Scandal and shame gripped her family. He could not believe it, and did not. Her family renounced her as a traitor, and her parents fled to Valinor in horror. Menecin was outspoken in his denial and it earnt him disfavor. He forsook court and embarked on a series of searches for Naiore.

At the time that Ithilen was abandoned in the year 2901 T. A due to orc incursions from Mordor, it is known that Menecin encountered Naiore. He barely survived. The refuge of Henneth Annun found him all but dead on their doorstep. The Men aided Menecin as best they could. Menecin went north, seeking death, and found instead Lothlorien. Recognized, he was taken in and there held under protections should Naiore return. He was also protected from himself. Menecin sank into hopelessness, depression and rage.

He refused to go West at the end of the 3rd Age without Naiore. Unable to take him out of his madness, he was left at Imladris with those few who remained behind. Menecin barely spoke by that time, and his music lay dormant and silent within him.

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Elora's post for Menecin

The stars were perhaps their most beautiful in early morning. Menecin had remained sleepless through enough nights to make such assessment with certainty. Imladris was peaceful. He was not. It was an irony that never failed to shred what little grip he had on lucidity. The rage and grief twisted upon itself a little tighter. It never got tight enough to stop.

If he stilled, he could hear the breathing of those that watched. As he studied the clear morning sky, he wondered not for the first time what they watched for. They were waiting for the storm to break loose. He knew it for he saw it in their eyes when they thought he was not watching. He never stopped watching though. To stop would be to surrender to the dark fog that sinuously seeped into every thought and dream.

Beside him lay a lap harp. He had left it out all night, instead of covering it from the cool air. A harp such as this deserved better. This harp had played with Maglor. Maglor himself had overseen its construction, had plucked it's strings. Menecin plucked at a string himself. Maglor had gone mad. He had watched it unfold before him. Another irony that did not escape him. He was following in Maglor's steps, but he had taken no terrible oath other than to love her.

Her face was carved upon his memory, as was her voice and her scent. He could feel her upon his skin still. Menecin's eyes closed, the ache rising. She was there, just beyond his touch. No evil was in her that could be seen. Yet her actions were filled with such malice of intent. The rage sharpened and the grief. She was there but was lost, as was he. Adrift in pain, the world shattered by love, vast gaping wounds in his spirit that did not heal. Neither did he die. Even in her pain there was no mercy.

"Perhaps a song to welcome the day will grant what succor sleep did not this night, Menecin."

He could not keep the bitter smile from his lips as he struggled to keep what raged within him in abeyance. The savagery must have shown in his spahhire eyes. It was a brutal light that was revealed to one of the many who watched over him.

"There is no more music," he snarled in reply. The expression of shock was to be expected. Menecin saw it too often to expect anything less. He drew himself back, sealing off his senses. A few short hours, when night was done and the day not yet begun, he allowed himself. He would awaken within him, undead, unalive, in the transitory hours of each day. He would float. He had been brought to anchor by the Elf who had watched him through the night.

Menecin unfolded his tall frame, clad in the customary finery of a skilled bard who had performed remarkable feats of bravery and courage. Wisdom gleaned from three Ages in Middle-earth blended with his distress, making him dangerous to any and all, including himself. He turned, and walked unhurridley back towards the chambers they alloted him at Imladris. Their comfort was barely noticed by Menecin. All was hell.

Behind him, in the eastern sky, day's blush had begun. The stars winked out, one by one, and he withdrew into himself. The startled Elf trailed him, wary and concerned with the bard's beloved harp cradled carefully in his arms. Menecin closed the door to his bedroom firmly. The Elf found the harp's aged and battered case and gently placed it into it's wardship. He straightened, looking at the wooden door that sealed Menecin away from the world.

As many had done before, he shook his head in sorrow. A hint of the bard's formidible passion and greatness had emerged, only wracked with anger. All of it was brought about by one woman, her name no longer spoken. Her bounty price was the highest ever set. No trace of her though, apart from the trail of ruin she left scattered through the lands. For her, he suffered. The Elf seated himself at a nearby table and inked the quill that waited.

Next to the date, he recorded his observations.

"No change, no glimpse of relief, only rage."

His quill hovered a moment and was then set aside. He did not add the other comments that filled his head. Instead, what he did record was the latest on a page filled with similar comments. Books spanning decades, hundreds and thousands of years, contained the same dreary pattern. How anyone endured such torment, refusing to believe that she was indeed what she was known to be, defied imagination. It would have been better that he did not survive. Sometimes, it is best if the healers fail.

The Elf rose once more and stoked the small fire in the grate to warm the room for the next who would watch Menecin. Within his room, Menecin sat disconsolately with his thoughts and attempted to free himself from madness that always loomed and never swooped to relieve him of self-awareness. He longed for it with a need that shamed him.

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Elora's character - Vanwe

NAME: Vanwe

AGE: 120 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS:

Vanwe possess a belt knife only, but will make do with whatever is to hand as she needs to. That includes anything or sometimes nothing, all depending on where she finds herself. Her limited wealth and propensity to leave in haste wherever she may be makes it difficult to accrue and keep any possessions, weapons included. Uneasy with weaponry, she prefers to avoid it if possible.

She has no armour apart from her wit and survival instinct.

APPEARANCE:
Vanwe is in many ways her mother’s daughter. She possesses the delicate beauty that is the hallmark of Finarfin’s descendants. Her hair is spun gold that falls long to her waist. Her face is evocative of her mother also. She has ivory skin, delicate facial bone structure, high cheekbones and high brow. Her eyes are a deep blue, sapphire, courtesy of her father. She is tall and lithe.

Vanwe’s clothing reflects her childhood in the Haradwaith. It is simple, worn and somewhat sparse by Elven sensibilities and custom. Her stature in the Haradwaith was low, and so she wears no gold or any jewelry. Vanwe wears a simple periwinkle blue cotton dress, acquired on the road when her southern clothing was in imminent danger of unraveling and brought much suspicion upon her whilst traveling. Gondor was still skirmishing and fighting with the Harondor in the opening years of the 4th Age. She also has heavy cloak, cotton, the colour of which is now indistinguishable. This is also acquired, at the time of her flight from the Haradwaith, and is her only protection from the weather. It shows signs of hard use and wear, much like her dress, and once was a deep indigo blue in kinder times. It has a deep hood in which Vanwe shelters from the elements and unwanted inspection and dwarfs her slender frame.

Vanwe wears worn boots on small feet of brown leather. They are light, for the heat of the Haradwaith and not well equipped for the cooler north. She has a belt of brown leather with a sturdy and distinctly mannish design. From it hangs a pouch and her belt knife, whatever else she has stowed there.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Vanwe is an unusual character for an Elf, attributable to both her parentage and how she was raised.

She is decidedly wary of strangers, a product of her upbringing. She has a keen intellect and a thoughtful demeanour. She can be withdrawn and shy, but once she warms to a person she is generally of good cheer. Vanwe is a little unsure of herself and has learnt that meekness can work to her advantage.

She is slow to trust, tends to underestimate herself and expects cruelty from other which she blames upon herself.

However, if nothing else Vanwe has the remarkable ability to survive most things. She is tenacious and when she believes she is cornered she is fierce. She has a natural affinity for music, inherited from her father. Like her mother, Vanwe is able to sense what cannot be seen. In her, this emerges as an ability to heal. She can sense injury and illness as “wrongness” and can manipulate it back to the way it seems it should be. This sensitivity is something she has inherited from her mother and her distant relative, Galadriel.

Vanwe often carves wood as an outlet for her anxiety and distress, finding the shapes she senses within them and setting them free, another example of her abilities. She has a love of beauty and peace. Vanwe is a skilled observer, quiet and fleet footed. Nimble and flexible, Vanwe can earn a living in a number of ways as she is quick to learn.

She is not criminally inclined in a general, but survival sometimes necessitates petty theft that plagues her with guilt even if it does fill her stomach. She can make a good living on the docks and streets with thievery, but this is a risky lifestyle for a lone young Elven woman and so she will exhaust other options first before resorting to theft. She has an aversion to authority that is hard to shake and very much prefers to slip into and out of places unnoticed as a general rule.

HISTORY:

Vanwe is the daughter of the infamous Naiore Dannan. Her mother was of extraordinary beauty and ability, related by birth to the mighty Elvenwise Queen Galadriel. Yet, Naiore chose instead a path of darkness that shamed and horrified her people and terrorized those she came to prey upon. Vanwe is the result of a nefarious union between her mother and the bard she had been betrothed to prior to her betrayal of her people. Menecin had never accepted Naiore’s choice in his heart and had pursued her through the years both in an effort to curtail Naiore’s activities and prove to himself that the woman he loved was not malevolent and twisted.
What came of that is not known to Vanwe, only that Naiore fell pregnant with Menecin’s child.

The Terror of Mordor for reasons known only to herself decided to bear the child and so Vanwe was born. Wanted in Gondor, Rohan, Mirkwood, Lothlorien, Rivendell, Hollin and the Shire, Naiore fled south into the heartlands of her chosen Master. In Harad where she had preyed unstoppable upon the people, Naiore delivered Vanwe in a small and isolated village, remote from the North and also Mordor. She remained long enough to instill such terror in the villagers so as not to dispose of her daughter and then vanished. Vanwe was abandoned without explanation once her mother was certain Vanwe would not arise in the future to trouble her. Her mother saw her as a potential threat and she never considered her daughter as a possible ally.

Vanwe was not welcomed by the villagers. Elven and the daughter of such a feared creature, she was treated with suspicion and resentment. The villagers saw he as some kind of demon spawn. She represented everything they feared and loathed of the north, of murdering Elves and of Mordor. Vanwe's differences from the children of the village were marked.

This only reinforced the chasm between her the people around her. Yet the possibility of Naiore returning to wreak her vengeance upon them was more terrifying than the quiet and sweet natured Elven child. In her early years, before she understood just how cruel people could be to that which they did not understand, Vanwe was given to laughter. This soon faded as she grew older.

Vanwe was cared for, in a fashion, collectively by the village. It was far from a happy childhood. At best she was isolated, alienated and feared. At worst, she was hated as the scion of evil and was the village’s scape goat for any and every disaster that beset them. Lest she exploit their weakness, Vanwe was treated with harsh discipline.

Being strong and clever, Vanwe soon proved of some use to the village. She readily took to the work given her, eager to earn some regard or reprieve. She was trusted so far as to tend to the animals. Life in Harad under the yoke of Mordor is harsh. Outsiders, especially possibly malevolent ones, were a threat no village wished no matter how beautiful the child. When visitors came, she was hidden away. Vanwe was excluded from celebrations and all meals. She ate alone, worked alone, with the exception of those instances where she had somehow come to the attention of the villagers through misfortune or misadventure.

She was seen as a possible bad luck omen by the superstitious villagers. Illness or untimely death in the village was also her doing. Her emerging abilities only further alienated her and inspired further mistrust. Mordor had been instilling in the people of Harad myth and lies about the people of the North, particularly Elves, for generations. Naiore had been the principle agent of that fear campaign, and her daughter paid a costly price. Yet it was the only home she knew, and so Vanwe remained.

As the years rolled past, Vanwe found the fragmented yet vivid memories from early childhood that were empty and devoid of a mother or father did not fade. Like all Elves, she lived them when she slept. An innate curiosity about her own roots grew within her. For a long while, Vanwe spoke to no one of her desire to know more about her origins. When at last she ventured a question, she was hurried into an emergency Village Council and stood before the Village Elders. It was then that she learnt of the terrible woman that was her mother. To the villagers, Naiore was akin to a demon and they saw her reaching for her terrible doom.

Vanwe emerged from that grueling night with their stories, fantastic and seemingly improbable, spinning in her mind, torn and bruised. The Villagers, concerned that Vanwe’s approach to maturity over 100 years would bring her mother back, prompted the fearful re-telling of tales about her mother, some were accurate and some had accrued embroidering of details.

For Vanwe, the shame was an intense pain that haunted her every step. No one could tell of her father, and her questions only grew in number. She grew steadily more determined to get to the bottom of it all, and come to know the truth of both her mother and her father.

When the spring celebration of a good season came to the Village, Vanwe slipped free amidst the bustle as the Villager’s got on with their annual celebrations. It was the year 3021 T.A. Young by elven standards and poorly experienced, Vanwe’s first months of freedom were both terrifying and dangerous. She emerged from the perils of innocence and a hard road in one piece mainly by the grace of providence and her sharp wits. She always learnt her lesson quickly.

By chance or design, Vanwe gravitated towards to coast. By sheer good fortune and determination, she survived the waste of Harad and came to Umbar, where she picked up the trail of her mother. She found employment, shelter and food by whatever means necessary. It was a precarious existence, but it was free of the village. She resolved never to return that hell again.

Vanwe was becoming adept at mastering her environment to varying levels of control. On the coast and particularly in the docks of Harondor, Vanwe excelled in survival. She slowly made her way north, earning passage on a ship to Dol Amroth. Quite unaware she was in the original homeland of both her parents, whom hailed from the Bay of Belfalas, Vanwe set about searching out any little thing she could of them. It was not long before she realized that it was not only the villagers that loathed and feared her mother’s name. Vanwe spent some time in custody, suspected of being Naiore. It left an indelible impression upon her, her new freedom replaced by dank cells and bars.

Across Gondor she drifted and then through Rohan, a land that had particularly cruel experiences with Naiore Dannan. Vanwe learnt to be more circumspect and cautious with her inquiries. However, she asked a wrong question of the wrong person and it brought her to the attention of the Riddermark. The experience taught Vanwe that she may as well be her mother by the time she wiggled free of the mess. Her appearance only worked against her. With a now strong aversion to soldiers, warriors, lords, bailiffs and any other possible authority figure including the Village Elder, Vanwe continued to drift north on the scant trail left by her mother.

She slowly gathered information on Naiore and Menecin. Rumors conflict, suggesting that one or both are dead and simultaneously alive and in hiding. Where and from what depended on who she spoke to. It is a frustrating puzzle, and Vanwe is not helped by the fact that she feels it necessary to mostly avoid the lands her mother is still wanted and hunted in. In those lands, particularly those of Lothlorien and Rivendell, a young Elven maiden cast adrift in the wide world could learn much. It is precisely those places that Vanwe assiduously avoids.

The recognises the latent threat in Rangers as she moves further north, another peril to navigate. She also fears that the village are hunting her. Out of place in the world of Men, strangely odd to her own kindred and treated as most Elves are by most Dwarves, she moves on the ebb and flow of the current of the mortal lands.

She strives ever to learn but it is the haphazard and unpredictable manner of her circumstances, tossed hither and thither, that is perhaps her undoing. She is terrified of the very people that could aid her and show her the place that is hers in the world.

_____________________________________________


Elora's post for Vanwe

… The water dripped in a regular ceaseless rhythm throughout the day, the night and the day. It was broken up by the scratching of rats in the straw, perhaps a wet and hacking cough nearby or a croaked song that had taken possession of a man’s voice and raised it like a tattered flag of insanity against the reality of the bars. Torchlight flickered fittfully against slick and dark stones as through the flames resented their presence, free as they were from the bars but locked in damp darkness. They would come by regularly, sometimes relighting torches that had rebelled and gone out. Some brought a hard bread that was passed through the bars. That marked the beginning of another day. Sometimes it was water. That marked the night. It was race to claim bread or water before the rats did.

In that bleakness, a spider spun a silken web in the far corner of her cell. The strands caught the intermittent torch light, tiny gems caught in the web to dazzle unwary observers. It would float in the icy blast of wind that raced down the passage every time the outer main door would open. Then the sound of boots would start, counter tempo to the dripping water. There had been a lot of boots on the stone one morning after the bred had been pushed through the bars. The tiny jewels in the spider’s web became fiery with torch light that they had brought with them. She remembered that. It was beautiful, even if everything else was not and she had smiled faintly in that grimness to behold it.

The men had golden hair, like hers in many respects and yet not. It fell thickly around their shoulders, sometimes braided. Her own was a more delicate shade, lighter in weight and smoother in texture. Some clutched helms under their arms. Their torches glinted off mail. It was not as fair as the spider’s web. She remembered a saying as she took in their grim presence. Silk was stronger than steel. She looked into their faces and wondered about that.

One of them had produced a large iron circle. Many keys jangled discordantly from it. He fitted one to the lock at her bars. The others stepped back, hands tightening around sword hilts that jutted from their belt encircled hips. She looked back up at the spider’s web as the door creaked in protest at its opening. Two men stepped through.

“On your feet,” one roughly ordered in Westron. He glowered at her. She did as she was told.
“We need more light,” the other one spat over his shoulder. Men slowly stepped closer to the bars. They held their torches out, relucant to cast light on those within. She was struck by the realisation that they did not really want to see what they thought they were going to.

“Move but a muscle and you die,” intoned the man who had first spoke. She believed him. The other renewed his grip on his hilt, swallowed hard and stepped forward. He tipped her chin up, his fingers hard and rough against her skin. She stared blankly ahead, not daring to breathe. She heard movement, the sound of paper being folded.

“She is reported as claiming her name to be Vanwe,” he said. Doubt was in his voice, tempered also by suspicion and a dangerous anger that could flare brighter than any torch at any moment. Vanwe could smell it. She knew its scent well.
“Perhaps it is so, Farald. Look at her,” urged the man who held her chin so tightly.

“I’ve seen that face often enough,” the other replied heavily. She heard the paper bunch in his fist.
“Then by what sorcery did she achieve this?”

She saw two faces crowd her vision. They peered at her in silence. One shook his head as the other released her chin. She sagged back at the sudden change in balance, recovering quickly. A curse hissed in the silence, and somewhere else someone laughed blindly to fill the hole that insanity left in his mind.

“Silence,” roared one of the men in her cell. He cast her another glance. She lowered her eyes and mentally withdrew. If the anger came now, it was best she was not here. She knew what that glance meant. It was best if she was far away when it started. It was easier.

“It is not her Farald,” the other said.
“You had best hope that it is not,” Farald spat. He turned on his boot heel and stalked from her cell.

“What about her,” a man called after him.
“She can go. If I find her again, she’ll not fare so well. Rohan has had more than it’s share of the wider world and it’s Elves.” His voice floated back down behind him. There was a blast of air as the main door was opened. The men followed him, boot steps filling the prison's sagging emptiness once more. One remained by the open door to her cell.

“I would be swift, were I you. This is no place to dawdle with the doom of Rohan on your head,” he said. He walked away, a slow and measured tread. She watched him open the main door and pull his helm on. he had reports to make. Naiore Dannan was not in custody as they had thought. Those who already readied the gallows would have to wait a little longer. After 12 years and centuries of suffering, a little longer was both an instant and an eternity.

Vanwe ran then, the wind at her heels. She ran running fast, past grass and trees and village. Faster and faster, away from Rohan who nearly hanged her in mistake. Away from Umbar and the slave galleys where soldiers had nearly sold her when their error in her identity was known. North, where her mother had gone it was said and perhaps where her father was buried. Mirkwood, loomed ahead of her. It would be an arduous task to avoid those within it…


“Come Vanwe, the horses are missing you and will not take their breakfast!”

She groggily pushed herself up and out of her bed and dreams. Morning light shone through the open hay doors in a warm puddle. Pulling her dress over her head, Vanwe climbed down the ladder from the stable loft as the Deruvin chuckled good naturedly outside in a giddying contrast to her recently left dreams and rememberances. She pushed open the stable doors, stretching as she did so, and turned back to see to the horses. Some whickered at her as if the innkeeper had spoken truly. Vanwe smiled quietly and soon had the stable’s guests on their way to the day pasture.

She returned to an empty stable, collected rake, shovel, buckets and broom and began the morning’s work. Soon, the spider that sat in one of the many webs in the stable’s rafters had her song to keep her company. Vanwe hummed it, a lilting southern melody as she worked. It was odd, to have fled Rohan only to finish here, tending horses of all creatures. In the sunlight the cold memory faded a little and her song picked up strength. The spider caught the early morning rays in its web to lure and bewilder wandering breakfasts, lunches and suppers as the Elf worked below.

Her thoughts wandered. What would the day bring? Would she be any closer to what she sought? That was an interesting question. What did she seek? Sometimes she thought it was peace and freedom, but then there would be neither without knowing of her parents. She had accepted that fate long ago now. As she swept and raked, her song shifted to a more merry melody.

Would the Ranger return today? He had said he would return and wished to speak with her. She was unwise to seek his company, for Rangers had proved as perilious as the soldiers of Gondor and the Riddermark of Rohan. Still he had spoken gently and did lay upon her shoulders the crimes of her mother. He did looked at her and did not see only her mother's face. He had given her the name of a star.

Vanwe's song was ended by a call from the Inn.

"Vanwe, hurry! Cook's wanting to know why you haven't had breakfast and she'll accept no explanation from anyone else!"

She quickly stowed the broom, rake, shovel and now empty wheelbarrow and raced from the stables towards the inn with a contrite expression on her face. Cook was determined to have her resembling a hobbit in girth. Her golden hair streamed behind her as she crossed the intervening distance on long legs, rubbing her hands on whatever skirt material came to hand hastily.

Vanwe pushed open the door to the inn, spied Cook waiting with stern expression in place and entered. The inn door closed on her words. "I was just seeing to the horses!"

"Those horses eat better than you do, missy! I expect an Elf to have more sense than a herd of shaggy ponies and mismatched horses."

[ August 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Snowdog's character - Hanasian

NAME: Hanasían

AGE: 39 Born the first day of Víressë, year 2990 of the Stewards Reckoning. (1390 Shire Reckoning)

RACE: Men, Father's line - Dúnedain of the North
Mother's line - Rohirrim

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword of Westernesse, Rohirric bow, an Elven knife and a Knife of Khand.

APPEARANCE: Rugged stature, and seemingly worn for his years. Long hair that is seemingly dark but has a sandy, lighter look in sunlight. Its length is to his lower back, sometimes tied into a tail, sometimes not. Of average height as far as Dúnedain go, around 6 feet and well built about 200 Lb., and is well built from the many years of training, then battle. Wears dark-gray rough leather pants and sleeveless vest and black worn leather boots. He has an Elven cloak he uses, but at times wears one of local custom. A scar he has on the right side of his throat where he was wounded in the Battle of Pelennor Fields.

PERSONALITY: Hanasían is usually rather quiet, but says what he means when he does speak. He handles a horse well, and is an excellent bowman from a mount as well as standing. He could move with great stealth for a man and was hardened by what he had seen and done before, during, and after the war.

STRENGTHS:He handles a horse well, and is an excellent bowman from a mount as well as standing. He could move with great stealth for a man having learned much from the sons of Elrond and he could battle well with knife and sword. He had a good tactical mind, was not afraid to take chances as long as it didn't endanger any save himself.

WEAKNESSES:Hanasían liked to drink and carouse and was sometimes seen in the less desirable places as a depression overtook him since his wound in the war. There was rumor that the blade of the Variag that almost had his head was tainted with some exotic herb unknown in the west, but his strength of mind usually kept his depression at bay. His somewhat shaded activities when on his own time were never harmful to others and was his way of dealing with himself and all he had experienced.

HISTORY: Born in the wild near Lake Evendim in the year TA 2990 (1390 Shire Reckoning) He was the second of three children of Halasían, Ranger of the North, and Lady Forcwyn of Rohan. His brother was much older than he, and he would not meet him until the battle of the Corsairs in the War of the Ring. His younger sister was born a year and a half after he, and there was hope that his father and mother would heal many wounds between each other in those days. But the darkness that held Halasían did not let go of him, but was only asleep for a time. One day he came back from hunting with worry on him, and he gathered what little they had and made their way to Rivendell, where Halasían sent his wife and two children forth, and was never seen again. Hanasían was raised in Rivendell for a time, for though Forcwyn desired to return to her people in Rohan, travel was perilous, and she stayed until Hanasían was nine. He learned horsemen skill from her kin in Rohan, and returned again to Rivendell some years later to study and learn the arts of the Elves and train. After a couple of years he started to ride with the Rangers, though at a fairly young age, for the times were ever darkening. He learned much skill from the Rangers, of which many of the elder ones knew his father, and he also refined the arts of the bowmanship he first learned in Rohan, and the skills of silent movement from Helladin, an elf friend from Rivendell. These skills made him pretty good at covert ops before, during, and after the war and unlike his father, he was relatively good hearted. Having rode with the Grey Company in the war, and having assisted Rohan during the battles of the Isen before meeting up once again with Halbarad and the Rangers riding south, he proved himself time and again in battle, and was always taking the initiative to scout out ahead.

In the war, he met his older brother who worked the ships in Befalas, and together they battled and sailed the ships up the Anduin and did battle upon the Pellenor Fields. It was here his brother Hayna was slain, not far from where Halbarad fell, and Hanasíian was himself wounded and thought dead. But he was discovered after the battle trying to stand, and he was taken to the house of Healing in Minas Tirith.

He recovered from his wounds and attended the high functions and weddings of The Chieftain and now King Aragorn and Arwen, and also that of Faramir and Eowyn, whom he got to know during the days of healing. Though a seeming depression had come over him that those close to him could feel, he wished to stay in the King's service and he remained in Gondor with King Elessar. He would often visit his mother and little sister in Rohan. He could see the years gain on his mother quickly after the war, she having grieved the death of her firstborn and never quite was the same. He wished not to burden her anymore and so started to visit less and less. But he still found satisfaction tending to the King and the Steward and business of the realm, and would partake in missions long into the freed lands of Rhun, Khand, and Harad, but also north to Dale and west to his home in Eriador, for he sought always the remnants of lingering evil wherever it may be. It was during this time while investigating an incident in Rohan near his mother's did he first find knowledge of Naiore, and began to pursue her through the lands.

_____________________________________________

Snowdog's post for Hanasian:

It was a cool, cloudy night when I approached Bree, and though I had made good time from the Forsaken, something bothered me in my leaving that place. For there was Vanwe, admitting to be Naiore’s daughter right there before me, and the long night of words filled me with an intensity that said to my bones that she was near.. very near....

I decided to encamp just north of the road in the thick growth of the Chetwood, not far from the gates of Bree. For surely my arrival will be more welcome at the first light of day than at the deeps of the starless night. I unlimbered Blackveil and let her wander as she does, always staying close it seemed when we were out in the wilds. Though it were not so here near the city, for the King’s men had long since made travel from Bree to Rivendell safe, there still was the old cautions among many of the order of Gatekeepers of Bree. And yet, as always, Blackveil was my eyes and ears as I rested. But tonights sleep was not that restful... for I drifted into dream...

It was Year 5 of the return of the King, and two shabby Rangers, me and Farasan of Ithilien, were on the move in Dorwinion, silently acting upon a tip. The lands were still barren but new signs of life was blooming in the spring as fresh vineyards were planted in the year after the War. The rain was hard and on the third straight day, and we approached the small house silently in the sounds of the storm. Farasan had become a good friend of mine since the war, having slain that ratty little orc that had keyed me with a poisoned arrow and was about to shoot. But Farasan’s movement was not quick enough to kick the raging Variag who charged in upon me, and I turned his blade with my own. But I did not see his other blade, the short black one that bit into my side. It glanced off a rib after penetrating the leather vest and fell to the ground as I slashed at him, but the wound weakened me and I fell. Farasan had turned to face more raging men of Khand and did not see me fall, but later he found me in the aftermath as I tried to stand. Farasan had served long in Ithilien under Captain Faramir, and was not too pleased to be caught in the White City running a message when the war closed in on him. He was newly married then, and Surely Faramir had this in mind when he gave him the order. A good man Farasan was and a great fighter, and our friendship began that day of meeting on the battlefield, brothers-in-arms. Yes, a good man he was, though his mind did wander to his wife and young child now, living anew in the fair woods of Ithilien.... He should not have been on this mission....

... Ready to make a move, for there was little movement in the house, and in hopes we had Khazûl, Naiore, and Varicar, three of what we called the Remaining, inside. A cadre of ten archers of Ithilien were about the house ready to shoot, and were in waiting in the darkness. Surely none would get away alive. The kid from the winery was sure they would be here, and through the day as the house was watched, it appeared he was right.... but still there was that shadow of doubt inside....

...The door burst into splinters at the kick of my foot, and likewise the back door from Farasan’s foot, and in we rushed. Varicar lay dead in seconds as Farasan’ sword fell upon his neck, and Khazûl jumped up before me in suprise. I stepped toward him, but he charged hard... harder than I expected. Little did I know that Naiore was behind the huge former Easterling army commander, and as he stumbled into my sword, skewering himself and pushing me back into the doorframe, Naiore turned and let fly a knife toward the charging Farasan. Deflecting it with his sword, he saw not the second knife Naiore pulled from Khazûl’s belt, and she buried it deep into his throat. I stood in pain and anger after pushing the dying Khazûl from me, and letting fly the Variag knife at the fleeing Naiore, it took hair from her and embedding into the doorpost as she fled over the top of the dying Farasan. It was almost instantly that I heard arrows slamming into the house as the archers tried to take down the fleeing Naiore, and I would have pursued her if I thought I wouldn’t be mistaken in the driving rain. But I paused and knelt by Farasan, pinching the knife in his neck in hopes of stopping the bleeding. But it was to no avail as he gasped his last words to me...

... I rode slowly, another horse in tow, and the spring gardens of Ithilien were in bloom. I came to the stately home of Farasan, and I stopped and dismounted as Hannah emerged in smiles... smiles for the return of her husband... her husband had returned to her, but not as she wished him to...and I thought of Naiore, his slayer as she eluded the arrows in that dark, rainy night. Maybe I blamed myself for his death? but the thought was inturrupted by the sound of that laugh.. the same one I heard seconds before I blew in that door...

I jumped awake in a sweat! Standing and shaking, seeing the face of Hannah change from pure joy to pure sorrow... my side ached where I was wounded in the war, probably some from laying upon that wily pinecone, probably some from the memory of the war... I quickly looked about in watch as was custom of Rangers to see if danger was near, and seeing I was outside the gates of bree as the sun colored the straggling clouds over the Misty Mountains pink I turned to Blackveil who wandered up nearby.

‘Ready to go girl? They will want to stable you in the city. Maybe I will walk from here and meet you tonight when I return?’

Her nudge of my shoulder was partly in check for my sanity after my troubled sleep, and partly in thankfulness of my not taking her into a city. That stable by Laketown suffered much from her temporary confinement. With a swish of her tail she was off into the trees, and I cached my belongings I would not need in town.

The town of Bree was a nice place, though tales and rumors were rampant there. A tip from Bree was not worth its cost in ale to get it, for it would be a yarn spilled from a local or a visitor from the Shire, but if one looked at those who came and went from other parts, there could be some information gleaned. I knocked upon the South Gate ust as the sun peeked its way over the distant horizon and below the clouds. The seemingly eerie golden light spread about Bree Hill as the keeper opened the gate. Yes, friendlier times it was in these years of the LKing, for it was only at the whim of the gatekeeper if he wanted to open the facedoor to ask of business. It was not uncommon these days for them to open the gate right off.

"Good morning sir" He said with a tired smile. He was the morning gateman, and was still waking up. A voice behind him asked me,

"What is your business so early?"

‘I am here for the day, to re-supply and rest.’

I didn’t like his demeanor asn he was a bit grumpy. But then he was just off his night watch at the gate.

"Hanasian I know you better than that. You come to smoke and drink and gamble, and maybe..."

‘No, I am here as I said, for I will be on my way ere you work again. But maybe you could tell me something.’

He looked at me with a half smile and said, "what?"

I looked around and then said,

‘Maybe you could tell me where the Nightshades could be found?’

He was silent, but as we walked the road together he said,

"Sure, one of the boys does smithing. Has a place just a thousand feet south of the Pony but the draw in the hill."

I thanked him as he turned for his house, a yawn slid out as he waved goodbye, for he would go to find sleep, the nocturnal type he was.

I walked the road toward the Pony, and people tall and small were beginning to stir this fine summers day. I nodded to a few though most ignored me, and it was soon I was before a smiths shop.

‘Hail sir Nightshade?" I said to the young man who was stoking the fire of his forge. He looked up at me and straightened.

"That be me." he said, though he looked suspicious at me for knowing his family name.

‘I bring word from one who claims kinship. She stays at the Forsaken and goes by the name of Benia...’

And elder man had come out of the house when he heard his son talking, and he said gruffly,

"Spawn of Jacks I reckon. Word was a comin’ for I felt it. What is she to you? One who caught your fancy for a night?"

I was taken aback somewhat by his words, but replied respectfully,

‘She is one who sings beautifully, as a nightingale upon the quiet waters Mirromere. She wanted word to be brought to her kin that she was delayed in arriving. I assume you were expecting her?’

He crinkled his face and turned away from me. "Maybe, but why did you not escort her then?"

‘It was not her wish.’ I replied, sensing all was not well between the lines of the family. I went on, ‘She has word of one of her mothers kin, and said you, of her father’s kin could get word to them.'

He turned and said,

"You delivered word, and I thank you for my part. Will there be anything my son can help you with??"

He was eyeing the exotic black knife on my belt, the one which wounded me in the fields of Pellenor. I could see this getting colder, so I turned and said,

‘No, just delivering the message as requested.’

I needed something to drink! it was too early for ale, but the tea from the Pony smelled good. i stopped in for a hearty breakfast and tea, and then to the mercentile to trade and barter for some good parchment paper and inks and quills, and other goods. Surely I would relax a bit, then I would be back on my way to the Forsaken. Yes, leaving was not the thing to do, but for this instant when I saw a dark, wild lookng fellow who I had intentions to meet. He came to trade away some vegtables he had grown, and I could tell he was nervous. he was from Dunland, for I had met him before, and by the passed word of the wanderers toward the Forsaken, he had let me know he had knowledge.

I slipped him some of the pipeweed I had aquired and he looked at it, and after taking it he looked about and then to me, whispering,

"I have seen her! The one you seek!"

I looked at him with a doubtful gaze, for many have told me this, and many times they were close, but never on the mark like that night in Dorwinion. He leaned toward me and said,

"Near Tharbad where they are re-building the great bridge, the river is a hard cross, and one so sought by the Kings men such as she could not ford by the city. She crossed Dunland by my fields! I was near the River Greyflood when she swam it! About ten miles west of the city! It is low since the warm spring melted the snows, and the rain has beem little but for the one summer storm."

I looked at the wall. Yes, she stirred it up in Rohan quite a bit, always seem to get clues of her there. I decided his information was worthy for the most part, and gave him the rest of the pipeweed. it was the wild stuff from Rhun, and I would keep the Farthing smoke I just got. He was happy and I went outside to sit and smokeIt had to be Naiore, from what he said, and her movements were usually concealed well. but sometimes poor farmers are not seen, or not thought of as being woprthy of having to be concealed from. Fo even one as wily as Naiore must weary of hiding her every move. But where would she go? Could she be here in Bree? Try to infiltrate the Shire? No, would stick out sorely among the Halflings...

I lay against a tree trunk and smoked and thought, writing again parts of what I called the Annals of the Dúnedain Rangers, when thoughts again drifted to my dream of the morning and then to that day... my hand dug out of my pocket a leather pouch, one not much different from the one he had of Vanwe’s. I opened it and let slip out of it the lock of hair. The hair my knife took that fateful night... I was not thinking the other night or I would have given some of this hair to Vanwe, since she sought her mother.... That was it! Maybe Naiore sought her daughter? Hanasían, you old mossbrain! Surely she was making for the Forsaken, for she must of had word of her daughter! Besides, why linger here when I could see again lady Benia Nightshade and hear her sing once again? But Vanwe was the key.. and I am here...

I stood and stashed away my pipe, parchment, quill, ink, and the pouch with Naiore's hair and made way for the south gate. Blackveil will be grazing, but would know to come at my call when I retrieve my cached gear. I had to make time back to the Forsaken, and it was still morning, I could make it back by nightfall.

I was silent as I rode, Blackveil could sense my urgency. I rode through the day as the sun westered, and a stiff westerly wind drove the air about me cooler, pushing the warm southern summer air back. A squall line of clouds built high in the sun, and their dark undersides belched streaks of rain and an occasional lightning bolt as the differing airs danced up their storm. My thoughts turned to Vanwe and the talk we had of Naiore. How could I tell her that her mother slew such a good friend, leaving a child fatherless and a mother widowed? Did she already know? She will learn of Naiore’s ways, soon enough. I approached the Inn as the sun dropped below the horizon, turning the lands an eerie dark, with the tall clouds sunlit still in the east....

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Hilde's character - Gilly

NAME: Gilly Burrows Banks

AGE: 45

RACE: Hobbit

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Gilly has a knife, which she views as a tool rather than a weapon. At need she is more likely to impress the mundane objects around her to serve as weapons than to remember it’s existence.

APPEARANCE: Gilly is a middle aged and middle class hobbit as is reflected by her appearance. She is of average height and sturdy mature figure, though by no means overweight. The long braid of her wavy light brown hair is shot through with gray and tied in a knot at the back of her neck, curling wisps framing her broad face and dark brown eyes. She wears a simple homespun white blouse under a long dress of coarse dark green stuff that is edged with her own tatting work. At her waist is a wide belt of brown leather and around her shoulders a loosely woven shawl of varying shades of brown and tan knobby wool.

PERSONALITY: Gilly is a peaceful, practical sort. Her joy in life is maintaining a pleasant well-managed household and so she is typically trying to smooth out rough patches and looking for a better way of doing things. She has a narrow set of friends mostly in her own neighborhood, and while it takes time to win her confidence once you have it she is a devoted and loyal friend. Gilly is governed by a strong set of principles and is known to cast reason aside to do what she feels is honorable and right. She is quick to smile and has a sense of humor.

STRENGTHS: Her strengths lie in her perseverance and kind heart.

WEAKNESSES: It is her weakness to be overly suspicious, and to act before thinking things through to their logical end.

HISTORY: Gilly comes from the Burrows family of Bywater and spent a happily uneventful childhood on the family’s farmstead outside the town proper.


When she was in her tweens she had stumbled upon the plight of Jack Nightshade and his small family. Convincing her parents of their need, the Nightshades had been the Burrows’ guests for sometime before moving secretly onward. During this time a strong friendship had formed between Jack Nightshade’s daughter Benia and the hobbit, Gilly; and Gilly had in turn became aware of the troubled world outside of the Shire.


Immediately preceding the war, Gilly was married to Carl Banks, an oil merchant from Bywater and moved into his small living quarters just over the room housing his oil press. They lead a peaceful life until the war brought grief to the Shire and the young Banks’ business was burned down as a result of an “accident” involving Sharkey’s men. Gilly and Carl then had moved in with Carl’s parents.


Carl took part in the Battle of Bywater as a guard at the barrier on the road to Hobbiton, a point of pride for Gilly.


After the war the young Banks’ slowly rebuilt the business and were blest with 3 children. Life had settled into the comfortable pattern of domestic turmoil when a letter from Benia arrived asking Gilly if she would be willing to travel beyond Bree for a time to visit her old friend. A bit taken back at the mention of The Forsaken Inn, Carl and Gilly responded in a positive matter on the condition that Miss Nightshade would watch over her friend in Carl’s absence. It was then planned that Carl would accompany his wife to the inn and leave her there for a week while he visited some distant cousins in Archet. The children would in turn be visiting their Grandmother Banks. At the very most, they planned to return to Bywater within three weeks.

_____________________________________________

Hilde Bracegirdle's post for Gilly

(note: to follow Benia's immediately)

Eyes narrowed, trying to pierce the evening gloom, Gilly came to a stop behind the thick trunk of an ancient and sickly tree, it’s dark leafless branches uplifted, casting a claw like silhouette against the sky. The hobbit shuddered involuntarily in the cool dew-laden air. At the edge of the village sparse trees, disfigured by a seemingly desperate search for firewood grew among the derelict buildings, reminding Gilly of the refuse left on the shore after a great
storm. Disagreeable confusion. It reflected her own weary state of mind.


Before Gilly the object of her attention, Kaldir, an ominous presence in the rising mist, walked purposefully through the darkness, disappearing into the shadow. A flood of panic swept the hobbit along as she swiftly ran to follow this quarry. She could not afford to lose sight of Kaldir. He was her best chance at finding Miss Nightshade. Her only chance quite likely. And she must find her. Quite foolishly she had not told anyone as of Miss Benia disappearance last evening. It had been her wish to have gained Miss Léspheria’s council, but seeing her in such distress in the morning she was fearful that Miss Benia’s assailant might have attacked her as well, and did not wish to bring her further suffering. So she alone tried to piece together what exactly had transpired. It was obvious to her that it had not been the lady’s own volition that had taken her out of the window at the inn, but rather a man or less likely an elf that had forced her to take this undignified exit.


Who this person could be was a matter Gilly had pondered tirelessly, coming up with two suspects and one possible accomplice. The chief suspect was the man she followed, a ranger with a rather menacing disposition, who had lately arrived at the inn disrupting the calm of Miss Benia and Gilly’s visit rather much like a horse stepping in a still puddle. Nothing was clear. Their ease was taken from them completely when he had unceremoniously posted himself by the stair leading to the quarters Benia and Gilly shared. And he had been possessed of a stealthy sort of aggression and a confidence that the hobbit found most convincing. But this morning, when she found that Miss Benia had disappeared in the night, Gilly was dumbfounded to find Kaldir still about the inn aiding the elf Léspheria. It just didn’t fit. If not Kaldir then who would have done such a thing?


The other figure who featured in Gilly’s internal debate was Hanasian, another ranger who had come to Benia’s assistance when she was injured while seeking the sanctuary of her room, away from Kaldir. Though initially wary of any ranger, Gilly found herself weakening in her resolve regarding Mr. Hanasian’s case. But then, had she not seen him speaking late last evening with the strange southerner Vanwe, and quite close to Benia’s open window? She perhaps, would have heard of the price for bringing down a member of the Painted Sand tribe. Then again, all these three might be in league with one another. After all Hanasian apparently was on familiar terms with Kaldir. Or then again it could be someone Gilly had not spotted. She began to feel dizzy again, faint with hunger and weary of the circle her mind was describing.


Gilly’s thoughts turned outward once more as Kaldir passed through the door of one of the abandoned structures. She heard a low metallic scrape as a bolt was drawn and wondered if Benia might indeed be found alive in this very building. But perhaps it was the nest of thieves. She must be cautious.


After a pausing a few moments Gilly followed Kaldir over the threshold, desperately hoping that the ranger wasn’t poised just inside the door, waiting for her. A deep voice faintly could be heard beyond a heavy wooden door. And there, A female voice!


Planting herself in the deepest of shadows in the empty room, Gilly began her vigil, knowing herself no match for a ranger, she must needs wait until he departed again before she could effect Benia’s release.


Thinking back over the last few weeks, it seemed ages since Gilly received the letters that initially disrupted her otherwise peaceful existence. The first being from her sister-in-law the contents of which in effect was politely discerning if her family could move in with Gilly’s while relocating back to Bywater. Sylvia had been of the growing opinion that Brandy Hall was no place to bring up children and if hers were to be taken as examples of that region’s youth Gilly was inclined to agree. And the vague reference in regard to the purposed end of their stay she had found quite trying.


And again, the very next day the postman had delivered a second letter addressed in a rather flowing decorative script. This from Miss Benia Nightshade. Gilly had fondly recalled the slight, kindhearted lass with large amber eyes. She had had no word from her since the days before the war and slowly had come to fear the worst had happened to the dear girl and her family. They had been like green leaves blowing about before the wind in those pre war days, just one step ahead of the storm brewing in Harad. Indeed that is how they had become acquainted, Gilly pleading their case to her father until he agreed to shelter them on his small farm until the danger of their southern pursuers had past. But that chapter had long since been closed. Miss Benia had grown to be a fine woman albeit to Gilly’s mind a bit outlandish to set eyes upon. Still she had her father’s wit and fortitude alongside her mother’s appearance, and it proved a pleasant combination.


In her letter Miss Nightshade had relayed that she would be in the area near Bree and would like to see Gilly again if Gilly could manage to find her way there. She would be staying at the Forsaken Inn. The hobbit in hindsight regretted ignoring the misgivings she had upon reading the name of the inn, but at the time she had feared bed bugs and stale toast rather than the exploits of bounty hunters such as the one she now found herself trailing. (That had changed quickly upon her arrival). And at the time she was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Miss Benia again, so much so as to press her husband Carl to agree to the journey.


Carl had accompanied Gilly as far as the inn before turning toward Archet to stay with distant cousins. He had arranged to meet Gilly in a few days time for the return trip home. Meanwhile, Miss Nightshade had promised to keep a watchful eye on her friend, keeping her out of mischief. Never before had she seen the Brandywine let alone crossed over the Greenway, and the hobbit felt herself ill at ease as well as excited. Accordingly, she had had a sense of apprehension even amidst her marveling at the sights and curious ways of her fellow guests, some few of which brought to mind once again the ill treatment she and Carl had received at the hands of Sharkey’s men, and was rather sad to learn that Benia’s troubles had not ceased after the war….


Gilly woke suddenly to the sound of footsteps ascending the stair. She couldn’t have been asleep over long for it was still mercifully dark in the room. Of this Gilly was grateful, for at the door there soon appeared Kaldir’s dark form hurriedly shooting the bolt home before stepping outside and across the road. The hobbit sat silently counting to what she thought was a large number before allowing herself to race to the cellar door. Heart racing as she unlocked the door, Gilly found it an awkward task descending the steep stairs with Jack Nightshade’s sword strapped to her back, and stumbling down the last few she called, “Miss Benia! Miss Benia, are you here?”


“Yes Gilly, I am. Just over here my friend, see here in the corner,” came a soft reply. “But you should not have come to visit me today. Carl would not be pleased to hear that I had taken you to such a place as this!” Benia gave a dispirited smile. “You must go directly, for I assure you the ranger will not be long gone!”


“Oh no Miss Nightshade, I will not go. I mean to get you out of here. Ach, now who would go and tie you up like this? As if you would be causing harm to anyone!” Gilly came forward to free Benia using a small knife, but her friend stopped her and looked her in the eye.


“Gilly, please listen! You must go now. Kaldir will be back and we will both be trussed up like this before we have gone a mile if we leave now. If you truly wish to help me, go back to the inn and gather my things bringing them here. I will need my boots to travel any distance quickly, and a think we shall gain a good lead if we wait until the ranger goes to fetch his horse as he plans tomorrow.”


“Then I will do as you ask, but please take my knife while I am away. I would feel better for your having it.” She paused thinking the plan through. “Am I to go with you then?”


“I won’t have you stay here, for Kaldir to toy with!”


“Then I suggest we head for Archet, Carl is there and will be able to help us.”


“Very well, just hurry and be careful.”


Gilly made her way up the stairs again, bolting the door behind her before slipping out into the night. She fairly ran to the inn, climbing the vines to enter Benia’s room though the open window. Collecting the few things her friend had left, she put her meager handful of pocket money on the table hoping that it might cover the cost of their stay, before throwing the rucksack out the window and climbing down after it.


Soon Miss Benia would be safe again, and she and Carl would be on her way back to Bywater. Very soon this would be only an unpleasant memory, but it could not be soon enough for the tired hobbit.

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Need these First Posts:

Ealasaid: Kaldir, Benia

Snowdog: Hanasian

Nerindel: Léspheria, Amandur

Hilde: Gilly


Please just place them on this discussion thread and I will paste them to my floppy copy of the Game Proposal.

_________________________________________________

Also, in the posts that were lost to the previous discussion thread, there was a discussion of whether you wanted to put a general First Post (at the Inn?) which would more or less set the stage for all of the characters to start from.

Elora had volunteered to do something along those lines, I think . . .

[ August 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

Yes indeedy, I did volunteer.

I hope I was not premptory in that.

I will be basing the opening at the inn, and covering the history so that anyone new to the RP and not aware of the Green Dragon pre-history can have events and references framed for them.

I hope to have something done in the next few days.

As ever, suggestions, hints, comments are always welcome. smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaid]

Elora -- that's great! Go ahead with a general first post that sets the stage, making it non-character-specific, but detailed enough where someone new to the story will know what is happening. Thanks!

You are already one jump ahead of the rest of us, so I really appreciate your volunteering to write it!! smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaid]

FIRST POST - BENIA NIGHTSHADE
(This takes place in the evening prior to Elora's AM posts.)

Bound wrist and ankle, Benia Nightshade lay in the darkness of the abandoned cellar. Despite the skilled healing efforts of the two elves back at the inn, her sprained ankle throbbed under the tightness of the rope. Kaldir, the bounty hunter who had seized her out of her bed at the inn, had been gone for hours. She had already begun to wonder if he was ever going to return. Half of her mind hoped that he would. She would hate to starve to death, alone and forgotten, in the empty cellar. The other half of her mind hoped never to lay eyes on him again. She knew he meant to kill her. Why he had not done so already was a mystery to her.

Thinking back, she remembered how he had brought her to the cellar and dumped her rather unceremoniously on to the dirt floor. From there he had dragged her over to a wooden chopping block, where an axe already waited, but, instead of chopping off her head or hands as she had expected him to do, he had simply given the tribal tattoos on her hands a long stare in the flickering candlelight. Then, inexplicably, he had kissed each of her palms and left, taking the axe with him. She had not seen him since. The candle he had lit when they arrived in the cellar had burned out hours ago. Now, whether he came back or not, Benia had the feeling that she had come to the end of her life. Either way, she was waiting to die. Whether the end came quickly or slowly seemed to be all there was left to determine. The ropes that bound her were strong and the knots, like iron. She knew there would be no wriggling loose.

Shifting her legs to a slightly more comfortable position, Benia pondered the last several days of her life, thinking about the mistakes she had made. The trip to the Forsaken Inn had been a foolish and sentimental thing to do in the first place, and, since arriving there, she had done nothing right or sensible. Actually, in retrospect, she realized she had thrown caution to the wind nearly from the moment she had first crossed the inn's threshold. With that in mind, she had to admit that it was no surprise to find herself in her current predicament.

The worst part of the whole scenario was that she had not only endangered herself, but involved her friend Gilly, as well, which was - to her mind - unforgivable. Benia sighed. She hoped desperately that Gilly was well on her way back toward Bywater and safety by now, not hanging about inviting more trouble. She blamed herself for Gilly's involvement. If she had just not written that letter inviting Gilly to meet her there at the inn, none of this would have happened. Gilly would be safe at home with her family in Bywater, and Benia, herself, would be going about her own business miles away from the inn. There would have been no ill-fated songs, no sprained ankle, and, most of all, no bounty hunter.

She was sure the song was what had summoned the bounty hunter out of the wilds, like a genie from a bottle. She had made the mistake of letting herself get too comfortable in the warmth of the inn's common room and, not only bursting into song, but bursting into song in the most conspicuous way imaginable... in the language of her own nearly extinct Haradrim tribe, complete with finger cymbals. In the darkness, Benia blushed from her own foolishness. She might as well have just burst into flame. It had been no coincidence that the bounty hunter had appeared the very next day. She was sure of it.

The sprained ankle, too, was as much her own fault as anything else. If she had just watched where she was going instead of worrying so much about where the bounty hunter was, she would have seen the pewter tankard left on the stairs. As if that wasn’t enough, she had pretty much sealed her own fate by sending the kind Ranger, Hanasian, who had helped her after her fall on the stairs, on that ridiculous errand to Bree. In all reality, he had been her only protection. As soon as he had gone, the bounty hunter had made his move and the next thing Benia knew, she lay tied in an empty cellar, waiting to die.

She sighed again and was just closing her eyes to try to sleep when the sound of a firm step on the floor over her head jolted her awake. She struggled into a sitting position and edged away as best she could from the narrow staircase that led upward to the abandoned blacksmith’s shop. There was a click and a slide of a bolt, followed by the creak of stiff hinges as the trap door opened over her head. Straining to see through the darkness, she could barely make out the tall shape of the bounty hunter descending the stairs. He carried a small bundle which he set down beside her. A few seconds later, a fresh candle flickered to life. Benia’s amber eyes struggled to adjust to the light as the bounty hunter knelt beside her and untied her wrists. When he had finished, he moved away to take a seat on the stairs.

He nodded toward the bundle he had left on the floor beside her. “I suggest you eat,” he said quietly.

Startled, Benia did as she was told and reached for the bundle. She had not eaten in over twenty-four hours, but it was not until she smelled the rich aroma of Aldarida Boffin’s cooking that she realized she was famished. Even so, she hesitated before taking even the first bite. She turned a curious gaze toward the bounty hunter, who only smiled his peculiar one-sided smile, the candlelight casting his scarred features into sharp planes of dark and light.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking,” he told her, guessing her unspoken question. “I suggest you eat it.”

Benia did as she was told. Even though it was just a cold supper of whole grain bread and cold chicken, she couldn’t remember when any food had ever tasted so good. Watching Kaldir from the corner of her eyes as she ate, she saw that he was simply waiting for her to finish. His sword remained sheathed at his side and there was no sign of an axe. Even the chopping block lay where he had left it. Finally, she gathered her courage to speak.

“If you mean to kill me,” she asked. “Why do you bring me a meal?”

“Perhaps I don’t mean to kill you just yet.” Seeing that she was finished, he rose from his perch on the stairs and gathered the empty crockery back into the bundle. “You’ll need your strength. Can you ride?”

Benia nodded.

Kaldir did not answer immediately, but picked up the rope and retied her wrists, even tighter it seemed than before. “Then we leave on the morrow,” he said at last, casting barely a glance at her bare feet that lay partly visible under the hem of her dress. Without any further explanation, he took up the bundle of now-empty crockery and departed back up the stairs.

Alone in the candlelight, Benia listened as the trap door creaked shut and the outside bolt fell into place with a decisive click.

[ August 14, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Nerindel]

Ok, Everyone, going over my posts in the Dragon I have noticed a major flaw in my posting smilies/frown.gif Léspheria has only been at the inn for four days,long as they were!

therefore it seems unlikely to me that Lothaniel could have got to the blue mountains, been injuried and sent a messenger back in such a short time.

So, I was wondering if it would be plausible if we put that Léspheria came to the inn a week earlier than she actually did? Nothing intresting would have happened in this week, it is likely that this time would have been spent familiarising herself with the staff and the workings of the inn? {shrugs}

Sorry about this smilies/eek.gif

[Ealasaid]

That's fine with me. If you would like Lespheria to have been at the inn longer than a week or so, that is fine, too. Most of us are changing at least a little something between the Green Dragon and here, e.g. Benia's broken ankle to a sprain and Snowdog's name change.

Just make it clear in your new post! smilies/smile.gif

[piosenniel]

Benia's post is now placed just following her character bio. I'll do the same for all the characters when the First Posts are placed here.

[Snowdog]

Work load has limited my internet time this week, let alone trying to think clear enough to put together an intelligable first post. Fortunatly I have bits and pieces of a post that I previously wrote saved so I just need to take the time to make it all work. Hopefully tomorrow!

[Elora]

Nerindel, that sounds fine by me too.

The Green Dragon is more posting impromptu (at least for me it is). We'll all have the chance to reconsider some oversights we've made at the Inn in this RP. smilies/smile.gif

Snowdog, I'm sure that when you do get the chance, what you show us will be wonderful.

Easlaid - great post!

I'll have a First Post Outline up later on today (my time) for you all to look at and comment on. smilies/smile.gif

[Elora]

OK, this is a first draft. I've taken a broad scope in a hope to capture the mood at the opening of the 4th Age as I sense it from Tolkien's notes.

I believe that it would be hope tempered with sadness for the War of the Ring would be too great to easily forget. As we are only 12 years into the 4th Age, I figure it would feature heavily in people's minds.

Neither would things be all roses. The departure of the Wise is a huge shift in how Middle-earth was run. It would leave a vacuum to be filled by leaders new to such authority. I've resisted saying more about specific characters, as I think that falls to those of us writing the characters to do.

Also, as some characters have yet to be added, I decided to remain brief. Hopefully, the brave new world sense comes through.

Please don't be shy about suggestions. smilies/smile.gif

____________________________________________

Elora - Opening post for Game

The Fouth Age was filled with both promise and uncertainty when it first began. Much of the familiar past had left Middle-earth’s shores, never to return. Some lamented the past at its departure. Much beauty, wisdom, strength and courage passed with the Wise whom set out for the undying lands from the Grey Havens. Some filled their spirits in the space the Wise left behind, looking forward to a new future that they would help shape. Some were eager to forget the past. Great evil had fallen at great cost. The shadow would be shaken, but it would take time.

And there were some who sought to cling to that past, the dark as well as the bright.

Middle-earth was gripped by renewal as the Age of Men came. Towns were rebuilt, lands settled after long abandonment enforced by Sauron. Change is never easy. Realms were forged anew. Gondor had a King and Queen after so long without. New grass sprouted green on the scorched fields of Pelennor with the Spring. Order spread out from the seats of mortal power. Osgiliath was slowly cleansed. Minas Ithil, forever tainted by Mordor’s occupation, was sadly and reverently taken down and laid to rest.

Orthanc regained it’s splendor, as did Minas Tirith and Meduseld. The Shire, shaken to the core, slowly settled back into peace. Yet nothing was as it once had been. The past remained as it was – past. The changes and marks of the cataclysmic war could not be entirely blurred by new growth and optimism. Lothlorien lay still and empty, now as immersed in the stream of time as the lands around it. Mirkwood turned inward. Dol Guldur was dismantled. Imladris, where those who had not departed mortal shores lingered, became more remote than ever before. The King’s protection of the Shire ensured no Big Folk found their way into at least that corner. Discontent bubbled in Umbar, Harad and Rhun still.

The future was not entirely certain, nor becalmed. The people across the lands wished for peace and forgetfulness. Celeborn, along with the new kings Elessar and Eomer, put their full backing behind cementing the new peace and order within the land. Orcs that teemed in the Misty Mountains and infested Mordor still had to be seen to. They were not the only darkness that lingered behind in Sauron’s wake. His net had been cast wide and those in his service were many. Saurman was not the strangest bedfellow afterall.

With the Rangers, the Elves, the Riddermark and Gondor now largely unopposed, optimism was high that that which remained could soon be put to final rest. Dwarves slowly spread their influence through the Misty Mountains. Orc, goblin and troll numbers dwindled. They had no benefactor now. Mordor was a land where the full force and weight of Gondor rested over. Pit after pit of horror and evil was thrown open and cracked like an overripe melon. It split beneath the force, and slowly melted away.

The discontent further south proved more difficult to overcome. There was another thing that proved stubborn. Not all had been done when the Wise left. Behind them, entrusted to those that remained, was another task. Justice had not come to all. Of all allies of Mordor that somehow escaped destruction, one of the chiefest remained at large. Enigma, riddle, aberration, her name was Naiore Dannan and she could not be permitted to continue.

The Wise reluctantly disclosed what little they knew of Naiore Dannan. Elf, she was, and in the service of Sauron she had been since the Second Age. Kin to Galadriel, little else was to hand apart from one inescapable fact. Naiore Dannan remained at large and continued to elude capture. Alive with her was a malevolence of intent too strong to allow to continue. The hunt for Naiore Dannan continued to little avail. It crossed borders into lands known and otherwise. It reached after her, finding shred of trace every now and anon. After 12 years of the Fourth Age, the search came as did she to an inn.

Here is set down the final telling of this sad tale. At the Forsaken Inn, a day’s ride from Bree on the edge of the Wild, it took the unlikeliest gathering of all to begin what could not be done in a hunt that had stretched through two ages. There is found Lespheria and Amandur, Elf and Ranger in turn and both tied to Naiore in vastly different ways. Benia, a woman from the troubled south, lies in the keeping of another troubled soul named Kaldir, a Ranger too but fallen in the darkness. He watches, intent on quarry who has on her head a handsome price. His quarry is Vanwe, unclaimed and heretonow forgotten daughter of Naiore Dannan, a secret she closely guards for fear of her mother's evil falling upon her and those around her.

Yet the hunter and the hunted can be one and the same. Kaldir himself is watched, by Gilly whom suspects Kaldir in Benia’s disappearance. The hobbit is not easily triffled with. Neither is Hanasian, a Ranger like Kaldir, let not fallen. He nears the inn as another watcher of Kaldir waits nearby. On her head is the highest price ever set, by Dwarf, Man or Elf. On her head rests also such attrocities that would give even the Wraiths pause for regret deep in their undead souls. In Imladris, one who has felt and survived her shadow lingers also in the watchful keeping of his Elven kindred.

The Forsaken Inn, where the beginning of another ending unfolds, is peaceful in the summer morning light. The innkeeper was busy looking over the common room’s empty tables and chairs before breakfast. Fimbriel nodded in satisfaction and sought the kitchens. It would be a thirsty day, if she guessed the morning’s mist aright. The arrival of travellers looking for something to slake their thirst and a place to rest from the midsummer heat would not be too far away.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

Looks good, Elora! There is only one thing I can see that really needs correction:
There is found Lespheria and Amandur, Elves who remain.

Amandur is a Ranger rather than an elf.

Otherwise, aside from a few typos, it looks really good! smilies/smile.gif

Oh! and, um, who is Aerwyn?

Aerwyn nodded in satisfaction and sought the kitchens.

[ August 15, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Elora]

Thanks for that! Bill Gates continues to refuse to spell check for me, perhaps on account of my flagrant and sustained misuse of the language.

I'll edit accordingly.

As for Aerwyn, that's a random name for the innkeeper character. Right now, she's a NCE.

[Nerindel]

Hey Elora, looks great smilies/biggrin.gif

I thought we agreed on the following for the names of the inn characters:

Additional NCE's who will figure into the storyline are the personnel from the Green Dragon Inn, which for the purposes of this RPG, are removed to the Forsaken Inn and renamed as follows:

Vinca Bunce (cook) - Aldarida Boffin
Ruby Brown (server & maid) - Rowana Brandybuck
Buttercup Brownlock (kitchen assistant & maid) - Amarantha Willow
Derufin (stablemaster/handyman) - Dervorin
Aman (innkeeper) - Fimbriel


Thanks for pointing out that Amandur is a ranger and not an elf Ealasaid smilies/biggrin.gif

[Ealasaid]

That's great, Elora!

We do need to stick with the names in the list for the inn personnel, so if you could change Aerwyn to Fimbriel, we would be all set.

I will try to have my first post for Kaldir up this weekend.

Nerindel, Hilde, & Snowdog: how are your first posts progressing? If at all possible, let's try to have them in by Wednesday at the latest. We need to get the Discussion Thread open for our other writers!

[Elora]

Oops!

I musta missed that NCE character name list. smilies/redface.gif


Names are fixed.

Thanks for your patience and my apologies for the blindingly obvious errors.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Sorry, that I have not gotten the first post up yet. Power outages and the real world have been intruding on my story writing time. I will to have it ready soon though. smilies/smile.gif Now if I can just read my own writing!

[Ealasaid]

No problem, Hilde! I know you have been working on it. I'm behind schedule again myself. I will try to have Kaldir in by Wednesday.

[Snowdog]

Snowdog: how are your first posts progressing?Well, its progressing....

I've been having internet connectivity trouble today and so haven't been on too much. I will have it together by Wednesday, though I planned on having it up tonight.

Actually, it took me several attempts at signing on again just to get this to post smilies/mad.gif

[Elora]

I'll send your IP company Naiore. She'll sort them out decisively for you, Snowdog. smilies/wink.gif

Hilde, power outages in my part of the world are a feature of life here. I share your frustration with you. smilies/smile.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Yes, I feel fortunate to electricity at all. I have lived in a place where you are lucky to have a couple of hours a day, (even if you are on the same line as a factory!) smilies/tongue.gif

But all the better to draw on when writing about Middle Earth, eh what?

[Nerindel]

Nerindel's Post for Léspheria


The midday sun shone through the open stable doors as Léspheria finished packing her white elven mare. Turning towards the doors and shielding her sharp elven grey eyes, she watched the tall figure of her friend as he scanned the road beyond the courtyard. She recalled their first meeting, the young ranger had been sent to the halls of learning in Rivendell to meet with his new tutor, but on entering the halls and seeing only her he had winked mischeviously and asked if she knew were he could find the master of the halls. She managed a weak smile as she remembered Amandur's apparent embarrassment, as she informed him that she was to be his tutor.

He must have sensed her watching for at that moment he turn to face her, a warm smile playing on his lips. Léspheria kept her smile as she walked towards him, glad that the great war had not adversely effected him as much as it had so many others. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she told him,looking in the direction of the inn that had been her home for the past two weeks. She slowly drew her gaze from the inn and returned to Losseserme's stall, the mare snorted impatiently, as she let Léspheria lead her from the stall to the hitching post outside. Amandur joined her and together they made their way back to the inn.

(1)"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" The elven words slipped off her tongue before she realised that she had said them aloud. "Don't let it worry you, I promise you that I will look out for the young woman's well being as long as my task keeps me here!" Amandur reassured her. She nodded her thanks, glad that he had chosen to keep his watch for Naiore in the inn and not abandon it for her sake.

Amandur pushed open the dark wooden door and held it open for her, "I will wait for you out here!" she nodded and went inside alone. The common room of the forsaken inn was already busy and alive with conversations and the occasional burst of laughter, the dark corners held hastened whisperings and those wishing no other company than their own. Léspheria determinedly made her way to the bar were Fimbriel the auburn haired Rohirrim innkeeper was rushing backwards and forwards filling tankards for the many thirsty patrons, who had chosen to stop in and quench their thirst on this hot midsummer afternoon.

Léspheria raised her hand to catch the innkeepers attention, Fimbriel looked her way and signalled that she would be with her just as soon as she could, while she waited her eyes roamed around the room, The kitchen door swung on squeaky hinges as Rowana Brandybuck hurried back and forth bring lunch to the inn's hungry guests and Amarantha Willow weaved expertly around the tables mopping up spills and refilling empty jars. Léspheria suddenly felt a pang of guilt that she would be leaving when the inn was so obviously busy, But just then she again felt the pain in her left shoulder, reminding her that her brother needed her help more.

As she struggled to focus her mind so she could block out her brothers pain, she noticed something else. "Amarantha, has not Mrs banks or her exotic friend come down for lunch today" she asked gently grasping the young hobbit woman's arm as she passed. Amarantha quickly scanned the room, then shook her head "No! Miz Léspheria I have not seen either one all day, but it has been a might busy today" she shrugged apologetically. "Thank you Amarantha, Miss Nightshade did mention that she was planning to leave, maybe they left early." Amarantha nodded reassured and went back to her work. Léspheria was not so sure, but before she could think any more on this puzzle she heard someone speaking to her "And what can I do for you this fine afternoon" Fimbriel beamed as she brushed a few stray auburn hairs from her face.

"I am afraid that I must take my leave of your fine establishment, my brother is injured and I must go to him at once" Léspheria sadly told her. Fimbriel's smile faded and was replaced with a look of genuine concern "I'm sorry to hear that, of course you must go to your brother, is there anything I can do?" she asked sympathetically. "No, No, I have everything I need, I gave my room key to Vanwe and ask her to hold the room till my return, my journey requires haste, so many things had to be left behind." Fimbriel nodded, then the pair said their goodbyes.

As she left the inn she saw Amandur waiting next to her mount, he helped her up then taking her hand in his he whispered softly, " Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. She then turned Losseserme and set off at a slow trot until she came to the rear of the inn, she had decided that she would go south-west through the downs. She gently bent over and whispered into the mares ear, (2)"Vanne linte!" Losseserme then broke in to a fast gallop, they speed across the downs and did not stop till nightfall.

Under the eaves of a small wooded area not far from the Greenway Léspheria made her camp, after eating a meagre supper she lay down on her bed roll and looked up at the stars, The watcher as always twinkled brighter than the others and as she watched it she could not help thinking on the puzzles that the past three days had revealed to her. The first being the appearance of Vanwe who seemed to be a puzzle in herself, her face was that of a criminal who was much sought after by men and elf alike, but her deep blue sapphire eyes, revealed that she was the daughter of one who remained under the protection of her people. Vanwe had unknowingly revealed that they shared the same bloodline, confirming her suspicions that Naiore was the missing name in Finarfin's family tree, something that her brother and her kin had chosen to keep from her, although she could not yet figure out why?

Her thoughts then drifted back to the southern woman, Benia and her hobbit friend, Gilly and their lack of presence that morning, she only hoped that they had taken her advice and left the inn in secret, Both herself ,Vanwe and a ranger named Hanasian had tended Benia after a rather nasty fall, Vanwe had treated the womans sprained ankle, revealing to her that they also shared the gift of healing. She only had to reduce the swelling and bind it,Vanwe's raw talent was impressive. But on leaving the southern woman to her rest she had seen another ranger who had introduced himself to her earlier as Kaldir, he watched the room with great intent. The southern woman was not the only person that she sensed the ranger was interested in, later that same day she had caught him spying on Vanwe, which he denied when she confronted him, she had guessed that Vanwe would have often been mistaken for her mother and she had been determined that it would not happen again, not while she could prevent it!

Kaldir's lack of emotions had made her suspicious of his intent, but his words had revealed that she had been right to be concerned, "she resembles an acquaintance of mine from the South. I was curious to learn her name to determine if it was she. I was hesitant to approach her directly as the last time we met was under, how shall I say it? Less than optimal circumstances." Sudden pity had lead her to lower her sword and let his reasons pass, she realised that he was yet another victim of Naiore's malice. Strong emotions had surfaced unbidden as he spoke, ones revealing much pain and hatred, emotions that Léspheria feared to explore having felt them strongly through others. First in her own mother and then in Vanwe's father and now this ranger!

Léspheria slowly closed her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, the memories of the emotions she felt from all those who had encountered Naiore Dannan, plaguing even her dreams.


---------------------------------------------
1"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" : "I am worried about Vanwe!"
2"Vanne linte!" : "Go swift!"
---------------------------------------------

Here you go folks! And I'll try to have Amandur's post up by Wednesday smilies/biggrin.gif
_____________________________________________


YOUR POST IS NOW WITH THE CHARACTER BIO.

~~ Pio

_____________________________________________

[ August 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Elora]

Captial job, Nerindel! smilies/smile.gif

It was a wonderful summation of prior events, and filled with momentum of action.

I bow, and Vanwe smiles shyly from behind me, sweeping her hair from her eyes as she does so. Of course, having mentioned Vanwe I had best mention the others lest jealousy breaks out in my small cast.

Naiore watches like a hawk, a cold and perfect smile on her face and contempt in her eyes so deep as to suggest other things... perhaps, even, longing or regret. For what noone knows and she would never speak of it. As for Menecin, if he knows what passes he gives no sign of it. He drifts in his fog of aching pain, broken and yet not broken, living his half life. Just as all hope of a response fades and we look away, Menecin smiles faintly and there is a presence of reality in his gaze that suggests he is aware of more than we may suspect.


*Phew*

As I have electricity and more words than I know what to do with, I had best get writing. smilies/wink.gif

Well done again!

[Ealasaid]

Excellent post, Nerindel! Looking forward to Amandur... smilies/smile.gif

[piosenniel]

Nerindel

Your post is now with the character bio - if you have any edits to it - please edit the copy you placed on this thread and notify me. I will transfer the newly edited post over in its entirety.

[Ealasaid]

Elora - I already sent you a Pm on this subject, but on second thought, I think it would be better placed here on our thread. I see you have continued posting away with Vanwe in the Green Dragon.

How is this going to affect our storyline?

Obviously, I was mistaken in the belief that we would all cease to write these characters in the Dragon & pick up with them again in the Lingering Darkness storyline.

At this stage, I am wondering where we all stand &, ultimately, what is the point? I really can't see one character running in two concurrent stories.

[Elora]

OK, I have already replied to your PM but will reprise here.

It's a fair question. Here's my take on it.

Vanwe's story did not start with this RP and won't end with it.

I'm posting her character as though events that will unfold here have passed. Naiore has been dealt with. Vanwe has a life to make, and she's making it at the Inn right now.

I keep references to events outside of the Green Dragon to a bare minimum - a sketch here and there for character depth and consistency (for those new to the thread and have encountered Vanwe before). Those I am interacting with are either NCE's in this RP or not yet within it's character scope (EG: Derufin, Aman, Beren, Falowik, Cook, Lira and so on).

So, from that perspective, I do not see it as problematic to this RP. It would be, if Vanwe was still interacting with characters in this RP. As Vanwe is an Inn employee (assistant to Derufin) she needs to remain current with the Green Dragon or face dismissal.

Hope that helps.

[Ealasaid]

Okay, I guess that will be all right. I do want to point out, however, that I find it annoying as the rest of us feel the same about our characters as you do about yours. We don't consider their stories as having begun or ended in the RPG either.

We would have liked to continue writing them outside the RPG as well but did not out of courtesy to each other & the developing game. It was not out of lack of interest that Benia & Kaldir stopped appearing in the inn posts.

So, from that perspective, I do not see it as problematic to this RP. It would be, if Vanwe was still interacting with characters in this RP. As Vanwe is an Inn employee (assistant to Derufin) she needs to remain current with the Green Dragon or face dismissal.

So, with this caveat, our characters are essentially banned from the Dragon, while you & Vanwe can go on about your business as if we didn't exist. Hmmm.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Ealasaid]

Keeping all that in mind... Pio suggests that we change our game's time frame to begin in the year 10 rather than 12 in order to accomodate Elora's Inn activity, as events in the Green Dragon DO take place in the year 12.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

I wrote this before the previous post, but it still applies somewhat even if the year were changed….

At the risk of sounding pedantic, I do think that is would be wise to send Vanwe off from the Green Dragon for a while. I understand that you mean to have her at a later place in her history, but feel since it is so closely meshed with all our other posts at the Dragon it doesn’t work neatly as it should, sort of the twilight zone effect. I for one might start referring to later details that had not been touched on before we broke off into our current story.

But I will abide with a group decision on the matter even if I find it an uncomfortable one.

Pio, is there a successful precedent regarding this?

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

NOTE: YOUR POST IS NOW PLACED WITH YOUR CHARACTER DESCRIPTION FOR TRANSFER TO THE DISCUSSION THREAD WHEN READY. ~~ Pio smilies/smile.gif
_____________________________________________

Hilde Bracegirdle's first post for Gilly Banks
(to immediately follow Benia's)


Eyes narrowed, trying to pierce the evening gloom, Gilly came to a stop behind the thick trunk of an ancient and sickly tree, it’s dark leafless branches uplifted, casting a claw like silhouette against the sky. The hobbit shuddered involuntarily in the cool dew-laden air. At the edge of the village sparse trees, disfigured by a seemingly desperate search for firewood grew among the derelict buildings, reminding Gilly of the refuse left on the shore after a great
storm. Disagreeable confusion. It reflected her own weary state of mind.


Before Gilly the object of her attention, Kaldir, an ominous presence in the rising mist, walked purposefully through the darkness, disappearing into the shadow. A flood of panic swept the hobbit along as she swiftly ran to follow this quarry. She could not afford to lose sight of Kaldir. He was her best chance at finding Miss Nightshade. Her only chance quite likely. And she must find her. Quite foolishly she had not told anyone as of Miss Benia disappearance last evening. It had been her wish to have gained Miss Léspheria’s council, but seeing her in such distress in the morning she was fearful that Miss Benia’s assailant might have attacked her as well, and did not wish to bring her further suffering. So she alone tried to piece together what exactly had transpired. It was obvious to her that it had not been the lady’s own volition that had taken her out of the window at the inn, but rather a man or less likely an elf that had forced her to take this undignified exit.


Who this person could be was a matter Gilly had pondered tirelessly, coming up with two suspects and one possible accomplice. The chief suspect was the man she followed, a ranger with a rather menacing disposition, who had lately arrived at the inn disrupting the calm of Miss Benia and Gilly’s visit rather much like a horse stepping in a still puddle. Nothing was clear. Their ease was taken from them completely when he had unceremoniously posted himself by the stair leading to the quarters Benia and Gilly shared. And he had been possessed of a stealthy sort of aggression and a confidence that the hobbit found most convincing. But this morning, when she found that Miss Benia had disappeared in the night, Gilly was dumbfounded to find Kaldir still about the inn aiding the elf Léspheria. It just didn’t fit. If not Kaldir then who would have done such a thing?


The other figure who featured in Gilly’s internal debate was Hanasian, another ranger who had come to Benia’s assistance when she was injured while seeking the sanctuary of her room, away from Kaldir. Though initially wary of any ranger, Gilly found herself weakening in her resolve regarding Mr. Hanasian’s case. But then, had she not seen him speaking late last evening with the strange southerner Vanwe, and quite close to Benia’s open window? She perhaps, would have heard of the price for bringing down a member of the Painted Sand tribe. Then again, all these three might be in league with one another. After all Hanasian apparently was on familiar terms with Kaldir. Or then again it could be someone Gilly had not spotted. She began to feel dizzy again, faint with hunger and weary of the circle her mind was describing.


Gilly’s thoughts turned outward once more as Kaldir passed through the door of one of the abandoned structures. She heard a low metallic scrape as a bolt was drawn and wondered if Benia might indeed be found alive in this very building. But perhaps it was the nest of thieves. She must be cautious.


After a pausing a few moments Gilly followed Kaldir over the threshold, desperately hoping that the ranger wasn’t poised just inside the door, waiting for her. A deep voice faintly could be heard beyond a heavy wooden door. And there, A female voice!


Planting herself in the deepest of shadows in the empty room, Gilly began her vigil, knowing herself no match for a ranger, she must needs wait until he departed again before she could effect Benia’s release.


Thinking back over the last few weeks, it seemed ages since Gilly received the letters that initially disrupted her otherwise peaceful existence. The first being from her sister-in-law the contents of which in effect was politely discerning if her family could move in with Gilly’s while relocating back to Bywater. Sylvia had been of the growing opinion that Brandy Hall was no place to bring up children and if hers were to be taken as examples of that region’s youth Gilly was inclined to agree. And the vague reference in regard to the purposed end of their stay she had found quite trying.


And again, the very next day the postman had delivered a second letter addressed in a rather flowing decorative script. This from Miss Benia Nightshade. Gilly had fondly recalled the slight, kindhearted lass with large amber eyes. She had had no word from her since the days before the war and slowly had come to fear the worst had happened to the dear girl and her family. They had been like green leaves blowing about before the wind in those pre war days, just one step ahead of the storm brewing in Harad. Indeed that is how they had become acquainted, Gilly pleading their case to her father until he agreed to shelter them on his small farm until the danger of their southern pursuers had past. But that chapter had long since been closed. Miss Benia had grown to be a fine woman albeit to Gilly’s mind a bit outlandish to set eyes upon. Still she had her father’s wit and fortitude alongside her mother’s appearance, and it proved a pleasant combination.


In her letter Miss Nightshade had relayed that she would be in the area near Bree and would like to see Gilly again if Gilly could manage to find her way there. She would be staying at the Forsaken Inn. The hobbit in hindsight regretted ignoring the misgivings she had upon reading the name of the inn, but at the time she had feared bed bugs and stale toast rather than the exploits of bounty hunters such as the one she now found herself trailing. (That had changed quickly upon her arrival). And at the time she was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Miss Benia again, so much so as to press her husband Carl to agree to the journey.


Carl had accompanied Gilly as far as the inn before turning toward Archet to stay with distant cousins. He had arranged to meet Gilly in a few days time for the return trip home. Meanwhile, Miss Nightshade had promised to keep a watchful eye on her friend, keeping her out of mischief. Never before had she seen the Brandywine let alone crossed over the Greenway, and the hobbit felt herself ill at ease as well as excited. Accordingly, she had had a sense of apprehension even amidst her marveling at the sights and curious ways of her fellow guests, some few of which brought to mind once again the ill treatment she and Carl had received at the hands of Sharkey’s men, and was rather sad to learn that Benia’s troubles had not ceased after the war….


Gilly woke suddenly to the sound of footsteps ascending the stair. She couldn’t have been asleep over long for it was still mercifully dark in the room. Of this Gilly was grateful, for at the door there soon appeared Kaldir’s dark form hurriedly shooting the bolt home before stepping outside and across the road. The hobbit sat silently counting to what she thought was a large number before allowing herself to race to the cellar door. Heart racing as she unlocked the door, Gilly found it an awkward task descending the steep stairs with Jack Nightshade’s sword strapped to her back, and stumbling down the last few she called, “Miss Benia! Miss Benia, are you here?”


“Yes Gilly, I am. Just over here my friend, see here in the corner,” came a soft reply. “But you should not have come to visit me today. Carl would not be pleased to hear that I had taken you to such a place as this!” Benia gave a dispirited smile. “You must go directly, for I assure you the ranger will not be long gone!”


“Oh no Miss Nightshade, I will not go. I mean to get you out of here. Ach, now who would go and tie you up like this? As if you would be causing harm to anyone!” Gilly came forward to free Benia using a small knife, but her friend stopped her and looked her in the eye.


“Gilly, please listen! You must go now. Kaldir will be back and we will both be trussed up like this before we have gone a mile if we leave now. If you truly wish to help me, go back to the inn and gather my things bringing them here. I will need my boots to travel any distance quickly, and a think we shall gain a good lead if we wait until the ranger goes to fetch his horse as he plans tomorrow.”


“Then I will do as you ask, but please take my knife while I am away. I would feel better for your having it.” She paused thinking the plan through. “Am I to go with you then?”


“I won’t have you stay here, for Kaldir to toy with!”


“Then I suggest we head for Archet, Carl is there and will be able to help us.”


“Very well, just hurry and be careful.”


Gilly made her way up the stairs again, bolting the door behind her before slipping out into the night. She fairly ran to the inn, climbing the vines to enter Benia’s room though the open window. Collecting the few things her friend had left, she put her meager handful of pocket money on the table hoping that it might cover the cost of their stay, before throwing the rucksack out the window and climbing down after it.


Soon Miss Benia would be safe again, and she and Carl would be on her way back to Bywater. Very soon this would be only an unpleasant memory, but it could not be soon enough for the tired hobbit.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

There is no real precedent or rule for this.

Cami and I pulled a storyline of our own from the Inn (happening timewise consecutively with the Inn's period) and created an RPG from it, but we still continued to post in the Green Dragon Inn. I did not see the storyline of the Inn as interfering with the storyline of the Game - they were two different entities, with no hopes of meshing, other than the fact that my character remained true to the way I had developed her.

The Inn, as it stands now, is a sort of anomaly. It would not exist in an actual Tolkien work in this form. And that is why you had to move the location of your action for your actual Game.

The Shire, in Tolkien's view of the 4th Age, was closed, and there would have been no parade of characters from Wargs and balrogs to High Elves and all sorts of Big Folk traipsing through it. The Inn is desgned primarily for people to practice being in character and learning to interact and play off one another.

There have been other players from Shire Games who have come in character from their games and interacted in the Inn. Again, they keep true to their character, but other than that there is no corespondence to events in the Inn with those of their game.

With this in mind - your characters are not banned from posting in the Inn if you as the writers of them wish to do so.

Please do continue to discuss this issue between yourselves. I think it is a point of some contention, and should be resolved to the satisfaction of all the players.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

YOUR POST HAS BEEN PLACED WITH YOUR CHARACTER BIO~~ Pio smilies/smile.gif

Kaldir

As Kaldir slid the bolt into place that sealed his captive, Benia Nightshade, into her cellar prison, he frowned to himself. Why couldn’t he kill her? There was a hefty price on her head in the south, as there was for any of the remnants of the Painted Sand tribe. He didn’t even need to deliver her alive. Since the Painted Sand people had the peculiar custom of tattooing their women’s hands with clan markings and tribal symbols, all he needed in order to collect the bounty was her hands, salted, mummified, or however he cared to deliver them. When he had abducted her from her bed at the inn the night before, his intention had been to make short work of her. He had even pre-stocked the cellar with an axe, a pound of salt to preserve the hands, and a heavy chopping block. All remained unused and Kaldir found himself facing a fresh set of problems, not the smallest of which was what to do with the southern woman now that he had her.

Stooping to pick up the bundle that contained her used supper dishes, he made a noise deep in his throat that sounded something between a grumble and a growl. If he intended to take her with him, he would have to find a horse for her and some shoes. Having taken her from her bed, she was barefoot with nothing heavier than a cotton dress to protect her from the elements. He would have to find a way to obtain her belongings from the inn. The sprained ankle made the horse a necessity. Of course, she could ride double with him, but he was afraid he would find that a touch too distracting, especially for the journey he had a feeling he was soon to undertake. As it was, he had difficulty pushing the image of her dark amber eyes and shining black hair out of his mind. Having her on the same horse with him would be a disaster. He would get a second horse.

Or he could let her go, just leave her in the cellar to her fate. Kaldir thought about it as he walked back through the darkness toward the inn. That would be the simplest solution, the obvious thing to do, that is if he did not go ahead with his original plan and kill her already. Her hobbit friend would no doubt find her well before she managed to starve to death. Mrs. Banks seemed like the determined type. Nonetheless, he found himself continuing to waver over what to do with Miss Nightshade.

Approaching the inn, he slowed his steps. He was growing annoyed with himself for his own indecision. The problem was that he felt a connection to Benia, as thought she had something to do with him on a fundamental level. He wasn’t sure what that something might be, but, if he were to destroy her, he would never know.

He would get a second horse. He would return Cook’s dishes to the inn, settle his accounts, and then seek out Cobhan Tupper, the local gypsy horse-trader, and negotiate or threaten him into a decent price on a passable mount for the girl. Stopping just outside the inn grounds, Kaldir gave his head a quick shake, as though trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The whole situation was crazy. He should just go back to the cellar and do the deed. When she was gone, that would be the end of it. No more haunting images of smooth brown skin and long-lashed eyes. She would be nothing more than a commodity in a bag, to be turned in for a price. Finally, he nodded to himself but the expression in his pale eyes was bitter and hard.

Pushing the thought of Benia out of his mind, Kaldir stepped forward into the inn’s yard. The grove of trees that lay on the far side of the inn from where he stood reminded him of his more pressing concerns. First of all, there was Vanwe, the young elf lady upon whose head lay a substantial price, placed on her by the Haradwraith village that had been foolish enough to lose her, the daughter of Naiore Dannan. He had almost managed to capture her several times earlier in the day, but each time found himself waiting, instead, for a more opportune moment. She was impulsive and quick, but clearly frightened of her own shadow. He could use that fear against her, but really didn’t think he would need to. She had a tendency to bolt suddenly out of rooms where there was the relative safety of other people to go off by herself, where she became - for him - a sitting duck. He was confident that it was just a matter of time before Vanwe joined Miss Nightshade in her cellar prison. Or, rather, took her place. Then, soon after, he could begin the long journey south to return Miss Vanwe to her village.

But he was troubled by the presence of the other, the one he had taken to thinking of as The Watcher in the Woods. It was a familiar malevolence that he had sensed there that afternoon, one he knew well from long experience. But could it really be she? He had no desire to go creeping about in the darkness to find out, but, come dawn, that was exactly where he intended to go. It would make sense for Naiore to be there. After all, the daughter was there, why not the mother? He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he cast one more glance across the yard toward the gloom and mist between the trees. He had the distinct feeling that she waited for him out there between the black tree trunks, a dark presence with unfinished business. The long-smashed bones of his face began to throb. He had some unfinished business with her as well. Daylight would be there soon enough. He would find out then if Naiore had indeed come to the north.

Stepping across the threshold into the cheery warmth of the inn’s common room, Kaldir made first for the kitchen where he dropped off the crockery from Benia’s dinner. Then, he returned to the common room, where by chance or fate, the first face to catch his eye was that of the horse-trader himself. Always one to follow his instincts, Kaldir took it as a sign. He joined Tupper at his table.

"Greetings, you old horse thief," he said pleasantly, taking the empty chair at the horse-trader’s elbow. "Have you any horses to sell?"

Cobhan Tupper looked up in surprise, then a grin spread across his swarthy, whiskered face. "To an old scoundrel like you? Of course.’ He took a long drink from his tankard. "What happened to that big gray stallion of yours? Did he finally die of ill humor? I believe I still have a hoof print in my backside courtesy of that evil-tempered beast."

Kaldir smiled wryly. "You shouldn’t have tried to steal him." Raising his hand, he signaled to Rowana Brandybuck for an ale. "He’s stabled outside."

"A fine animal! Would you be interested in selling him?"

"No. I’m only interested in buying."

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

Cami and I pulled a storyline of our own from the Inn (happening timewise consecutively with the Inn's period) and created an RPG from it, but we still continued to post in the Green Dragon Inn. I did not see the storyline of the Inn as interfering with the storyline of the Game - they were two different entities, with no hopes of meshing, other than the fact that my character remained true to the way I had developed her.

The Inn, as it stands now, is a sort of anomaly. It would not exist in an actual Tolkien work in this form. And that is why you had to move the location of your action for your actual Game.


Well, if that is the case, then I guess there is no problem if Elora wishes to continue posting in the inn. Being a purist, I had a serious problem regarding continuity issues.

Like Hilde, I was concerned about the twilight zone effect and felt that our characters and situations had been given short shrift and been blown off like so much dandelion fluff.

I'm still not entirely comfortable with the idea of concurrent posting, but if the two threads will be maintained as totally separate entities, then I guess Elora can do as she pleases.

[Elora]

Seems to me, and I know reading between the lines is a risky business, that this is still not satisfactorily resolved.

With all honesty, I really couldn't give a fig one way or the other. Twilight zones don't bother me, it's the storyline that is most important to keep straight. However, as other's do give a fig it makes sense for me to compromise as it's no skin off my nose.

The dates in character profiles have already been set down. To alter the timing of this RP, we'd all have to go back and subtract 2 years from our dates. That's all well and good if you can count. I can't, though. You have no idea how long it took me to set birth years for my three, and then count up their ages to 12 (4th Age).

So, I'll vanish Vanwe from the Green Dragon.

But I ask this in return. We need to get this RP started ASAP. I don't like to keep my characters mouldering in suspension for too long. They get all gangrenous - and that shade of green is never becoming, be they Elf or no.

[Ealasaid]

Thank you, Elora, for being so gracious & circumspect on the matter.

The storyline is what I was primarily concerned about. As far as getting the game going ASAP, I'm with you there! All we need are the first posts for Amandur & Hanasian. Then we can open the Discussion Thread to other writers, and, hopefully, get the actual game started shortly therafter.

Concerning mouldering characters...I do understand what you are saying. How about a compromise? Continue with Vanwe in the Dragon until the game opens, then absent her until we are done. Would that work for you? That way you can have a little time to set up her absence & not be stuck with a period of idleness.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[piosenniel]

Later tonight, I will begin to set up the Discussion Thread for the Game and leave it locked. It can open when those two First Posts are in place.

~~ Pio

[Ealasaid]

Great - thanks, Pio! smilies/smile.gif

[Nerindel]

Amandur bows suavely as he introduces his first post smilies/biggrin.gif

Nerindel's first post for Amandur

Amandur stood at the door to the stables of the Forsaken inn scanning the area just beyond, Léspheria's hesitation before entering the stables had lead him to believe that she had sensed something or someone in the wooded area surrounding the inn. It might be only an animal or another guest, but considering the nature of his quarry and Léspheria's abillities he thought it best to be mindful. 'Once Léspheria has left I will take a better look' he thought to himself, sighing as he realised that he would not be going with her. 'she had been right, the kings rangers may have put the young elf woman's life in danger by following her trail, in the hopes that she would lead them to her mother, and he now felt that it would be wrong to leave the young woman to such a fate, even if he felt that Vanwe may prove a problem later on.

He knew not how the elf woman felt about her mother, he knew she looked for her, but for what reason he knew not. Would she protect her mother regardless of her crimes? blinded in much the same way as Menecin, by love or the hunger of it from a mother who abandoned her. Yes! that may be it, Vanwe's longing for motherly love may be why she is looking for her. Interesting, but it may indeed prove problematic when it comes to capturing Naiore.

Amandur then felt Léspheria's gaze on his back, he turned towards her smiling warmly. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she smiled as she walked towards him. Although she smiled he could still hear sadness in her words as she gaze in the direction of the inn. He then watched as she lead her horse from the stable to the hitching post outside the inn. He followed her quietly. "Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" Léspheria said quietly. Amandur stopped and looked at her, it was not often that she used her own language when not among her own kin. Seeing her obvious concern he promised that he would look out for Vanwe's well being, while he could. She seemed reassured by his words, so he gently opened the inn door for her, "I will wait for you out here!" he said wishing to keep his watch. She nodded and went inside.

Amandur wandered back over to the hitching post and casually leaning on it he continued his watch, thinking about the events of the past month as he did. It was now a month since he received word from King Elessar that the criminal Naiore Dannan had been see heading north. Elessar had requested that he travel to the inn and meet the elf ranger Lóthaniel Denfëa, who would tell him more. He had actually met Lóthaniel just outside Bree about two weeks later, His old friend had been glad to see him and told him everything he and the other rangers had learnt, the discovery that Naiore had a daughter and their belief that this daughter would lead then to the illusive Naiore. Lóthaniel had then explained that he had other business to attend to and would not be accompanying him to the Forsaken inn. Lóthaniel spoke at length about his families connection with Naiore and how Léspheria knew only little, He had been taken aback by the fact that they had kept this information from her, and had argued that she should be told, Lóthaniel had disagreed, he feared that the same fate that befell their mother would also befall his sister. He had reluctantly agreed not to say anything to Léspheria, but he strongly believed that she would eventually find these things out for herself and he had told Lóthaniel so!

The Kings orders were to capture Naiore and bring her to Minas Tirith for trail, there was also a bounty but Amandur was not interested in such things, he wanted only to see this criminal brought to justice. So after leaving Lothaniel he had went straight to the vicinity of the inn. He had made camp just beyond the wooded area that surrounding the inn and for the past two weeks he had been watching it and waiting to see if Naiore appeared, but nothing had he seen or heard of her in that time. The message from the King had also said that there was other rangers in the pursuit of this elf, but he had seen none that he knew until the previous night, when he had observed his good friend Hanasían lying under the stars with Vanwe. he had wondered if Hanasian was one of these rangers, he hoped so. The next morning when he had seen Hanasian leaving the inn, he had intended to stop him and find out if what he hoped was indeed true. But he heard a scream that he had immediately recognised as Léspheria's and his concern for the elven lady had lead him into the inn to see if she was all right.

Before he could finish his thoughts Léspheria emerged from the inn, he helped her onto her horse then gently taking her hands he bade her "Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. He watched her until she was out of sight then he wandered over to the tree's to see if he could find out what Léspheria had sensed, he found disturbed earth and broken twigs, but they could have been caused by anyone, he was just about to give up his search when he heard something! He crouched down behind one of the tree's and watched as the tall figure of the ranger who had help him to take Léspheria to her room after her fall that morning, emerged from the trees nearest the stables, as Lothaniel looked at the good side of the rangers scared face he was sure that he knew this ranger from somewhere, but he could not think where! He watched as the Ranger entered the inn, then he got up and sighed "Well Amandur there is nothing here!" he then walked back towards the inn. He stopped just before the stables and gave a long sharp whistle, the Stablemaster gave him a curious look. But after just a few minutes a tall black charger emerged from the forest, halting right infront of him. "He is beautiful ," the stable master whistled. "Yes, he is" Amandur laughed patting his old friends neck, " I would think that he is in need of fresh hay and something to drink," he chortled handing the reigns over to the bearded man. "I will see to it right away!" the man smiled leading the charger into an empty stall.

Amandur then realised that he too had not eaten all day, so he headed towards the inn to see if he could gain some supper and maybe even a room. "The whispered conversations may even reveal some new clues" he chuckled to himself.

[Elora]

Thanks for that Nerindel! As per usual, spectacular. smilies/smile.gif

I've heard from Snowdog. He is hoping to do some writing tonight, but has a great deal (as in a mountain of work) on his plate right now.

Ealasaid, as for Vanwe, I'm favouring the following solution to the conundrum.

I will rename the Green Dragon character, divorcing her from Vanwe.

She will be a heretoknow scamp, Elven and have the same appearance as Vanwe. Any references to her history will reflect that she is without kin, but gone will be references to Harad and Vanwe's kin. This is possible given the rapid flow of characters into and out of the Green Dragon.

For those that I post with there on a regular basis, I will PM them to let them know. So far, the altered character will probably be one who was left behind inadvertantly when the Elves began to leave Middle-earth. A spin-off, admitedly, of the Nimrodel tale though there is no Amroth to accompany it.

This should make matters workable on both sides.

The Green Dragon Inn gives me the opportunity to interact with veterans and newcomers, espying those who may wish to join in RP's. It's a great meeting ground in that respect.

As Vanwe will now only appear in the Forsaken Inn during this RP, it should remove any doppleganger angst. The characters will have a distinctly different identity and history, with paralells to remove the necessity for me to go back and edit all Vanwe posts amd references in the Green Dragon.

All I have to do is name the Nimrodel spin-off.... that's almost as hard as counting! smilies/wink.gif

[Nerindel]

Pio I have made a few minor edits to Léspheria's post smilies/rolleyes.gif

Thanks Elora smilies/smile.gif

Great posts Hilde and Ealasaid! smilies/biggrin.gif

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Snowdog]

I am pounding it out on Word right now. Hope it measures up to all your fine posts so far! Since I am acting alone at first there is a bit of history and such thrown in, and Ealasaid, I am trying to remember what Hanasían was to do in Bree? I was going to improvise something to do with a brother of Benia's father,(uncle) if that will work. Anyway.. back to writing....

Oh yes, all references to Silvanis of the Green Dragon has been converted in my mind to Hanasían at the Forsaken so there won't be any confusion with the names. This in effect makes it so anyone who was introduced to Silvanis in the Green Dragon thread will just treat the meeting as if the name was Hanasían, just as we are treating the name and location of the Inn as the Forsaken.

Back to it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, here it goes. Not as I expected or wanted, but it will do since I am to arrive at the Forsaken in the first act. This post spans the time Hanasían left the Inn as written in the Green Dragon Part four, page 7, to now, the nightfall of either the day the Rp starts, or the nightfall before the day the Rp starts. Forgive me if I missed the actual dayscale of the posts I read.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanasían's First Post:

It was a cool, cloudy night when I approached Bree, and though I had made good time from the Forsaken, something bothered me in my leaving that place. For there was Vanwe, admitting to be Naiore’s daughter right there before me, and the long night of words filled me with an intensity that said to my bones that she was near.. very near....

I decided to encamp just north of the road in the thick growth of the Chetwood, not far from the gates of Bree. For surely my arrival will be more welcome at the first light of day than at the deeps of the starless night. I unlimbered Blackveil and let her wander as she does, always staying close it seemed when we were out in the wilds. Though it were not so here near the city, for the King’s men had long since made travel from Bree to Rivendell safe, there still was the old cautions among many of the order of Gatekeepers of Bree. And yet, as always, Blackveil was my eyes and ears as I rested. But tonights sleep was not that restful... for I drifted into dream...

It was Year 5 of the return of the King, and two shabby Rangers, me and Farasan of Ithilien, were on the move in Dorwinion, silently acting upon a tip. The lands were still barren but new signs of life was blooming in the spring as fresh vineyards were planted in the year after the War. The rain was hard and on the third straight day, and we approached the small house silently in the sounds of the storm. Farasan had become a good friend of mine since the war, having slain that ratty little orc that had keyed me with a poisoned arrow and was about to shoot. But Farasan’s movement was not quick enough to kick the raging Variag who charged in upon me, and I turned his blade with my own. But I did not see his other blade, the short black one that bit into my side. It glanced off a rib after penetrating the leather vest and fell to the ground as I slashed at him, but the wound weakened me and I fell. Farasan had turned to face more raging men of Khand and did not see me fall, but later he found me in the aftermath as I tried to stand. Farasan had served long in Ithilien under Captain Faramir, and was not too pleased to be caught in the White City running a message when the war closed in on him. He was newly married then, and Surely Faramir had this in mind when he gave him the order. A good man Farasan was and a great fighter, and our friendship began that day of meeting on the battlefield, brothers-in-arms. Yes, a good man he was, though his mind did wander to his wife and young child now, living anew in the fair woods of Ithilien.... He should not have been on this mission....

... Ready to make a move, for there was little movement in the house, and in hopes we had Khazûl, Naiore, and Varicar, three of what we called the Remaining, inside. A cadre of ten archers of Ithilien were about the house ready to shoot, and were in waiting in the darkness. Surely none would get away alive. The kid from the winery was sure they would be here, and through the day as the house was watched, it appeared he was right.... but still there was that shadow of doubt inside....

...The door burst into splinters at the kick of my foot, and likewise the back door from Farasan’s foot, and in we rushed. Varicar lay dead in seconds as Farasan’ sword fell upon his neck, and Khazûl jumped up before me in suprise. I stepped toward him, but he charged hard... harder than I expected. Little did I know that Naiore was behind the huge former Easterling army commander, and as he stumbled into my sword, skewering himself and pushing me back into the doorframe, Naiore turned and let fly a knife toward the charging Farasan. Deflecting it with his sword, he saw not the second knife Naiore pulled from Khazûl’s belt, and she buried it deep into his throat. I stood in pain and anger after pushing the dying Khazûl from me, and letting fly the Variag knife at the fleeing Naiore, it took hair from her and embedding into the doorpost as she fled over the top of the dying Farasan. It was almost instantly that I heard arrows slamming into the house as the archers tried to take down the fleeing Naiore, and I would have pursued her if I thought I wouldn’t be mistaken in the driving rain. But I paused and knelt by Farasan, pinching the knife in his neck in hopes of stopping the bleeding. But it was to no avail as he gasped his last words to me...

... I rode slowly, another horse in tow, and the spring gardens of Ithilien were in bloom. I came to the stately home of Farasan, and I stopped and dismounted as Hannah emerged in smiles... smiles for the return of her husband... her husband had returned to her, but not as she wished him to...and I thought of Naiore, his slayer as she eluded the arrows in that dark, rainy night. Maybe I blamed myself for his death? but the thought was inturrupted by the sound of that laugh.. the same one I heard seconds before I blew in that door...

I jumped awake in a sweat! Standing and shaking, seeing the face of Hannah change from pure joy to pure sorrow... my side ached where I was wounded in the war, probably some from laying upon that wily pinecone, probably some from the memory of the war... I quickly looked about in watch as was custom of Rangers to see if danger was near, and seeing I was outside the gates of bree as the sun colored the straggling clouds over the Misty Mountains pink I turned to Blackveil who wandered up nearby.

‘Ready to go girl? They will want to stable you in the city. Maybe I will walk from here and meet you tonight when I return?’

Her nudge of my shoulder was partly in check for my sanity after my troubled sleep, and partly in thankfulness of my not taking her into a city. That stable by Laketown suffered much from her temporary confinement. With a swish of her tail she was off into the trees, and I cached my belongings I would not need in town.

The town of Bree was a nice place, though tales and rumors were rampant there. A tip from Bree was not worth its cost in ale to get it, for it would be a yarn spilled from a local or a visitor from the Shire, but if one looked at those who came and went from other parts, there could be some information gleaned. I knocked upon the South Gate ust as the sun peeked its way over the distant horizon and below the clouds. The seemingly eerie golden light spread about Bree Hill as the keeper opened the gate. Yes, friendlier times it was in these years of the LKing, for it was only at the whim of the gatekeeper if he wanted to open the facedoor to ask of business. It was not uncommon these days for them to open the gate right off.

"Good morning sir" He said with a tired smile. He was the morning gateman, and was still waking up. A voice behind him asked me,

"What is your business so early?"

‘I am here for the day, to re-supply and rest.’

I didn’t like his demeanor asn he was a bit grumpy. But then he was just off his night watch at the gate.

"Hanasian I know you better than that. You come to smoke and drink and gamble, and maybe..."

‘No, I am here as I said, for I will be on my way ere you work again. But maybe you could tell me something.’

He looked at me with a half smile and said, "what?"

I looked around and then said,

‘Maybe you could tell me where the Nightshades could be found?’

He was silent, but as we walked the road together he said,

"Sure, one of the boys does smithing. Has a place just a thousand feet south of the Pony but the draw in the hill."

I thanked him as he turned for his house, a yawn slid out as he waved goodbye, for he would go to find sleep, the nocturnal type he was.

I walked the road toward the Pony, and people tall and small were beginning to stir this fine summers day. I nodded to a few though most ignored me, and it was soon I was before a smiths shop.

‘Hail sir Nightshade?" I said to the young man who was stoking the fire of his forge. He looked up at me and straightened.

"That be me." he said, though he looked suspicious at me for knowing his family name.

‘I bring word from one who claims kinship. She stays at the Forsaken and goes by the name of Benia...’

And elder man had come out of the house when he heard his son talking, and he said gruffly,

"Spawn of Jacks I reckon. Word was a comin’ for I felt it. What is she to you? One who caught your fancy for a night?"

I was taken aback somewhat by his words, but replied respectfully,

‘She is one who sings beautifully, as a nightingale upon the quiet waters Mirromere. She wanted word to be brought to her kin that she was delayed in arriving. I assume you were expecting her?’

He crinkled his face and turned away from me. "Maybe, but why did you not escort her then?"

‘It was not her wish.’ I replied, sensing all was not well between the lines of the family. I went on, ‘She has word of one of her mothers kin, and said you, of her father’s kin could get word to them.'

He turned and said,

"You delivered word, and I thank you for my part. Will there be anything my son can help you with??"

He was eyeing the exotic black knife on my belt, the one which wounded me in the fields of Pellenor. I could see this getting colder, so I turned and said,

‘No, just delivering the message as requested.’

I needed something to drink! it was too early for ale, but the tea from the Pony smelled good. i stopped in for a hearty breakfast and tea, and then to the mercentile to trade and barter for some good parchment paper and inks and quills, and other goods. Surely I would relax a bit, then I would be back on my way to the Forsaken. Yes, leaving was not the thing to do, but for this instant when I saw a dark, wild lookng fellow who I had intentions to meet. He came to trade away some vegtables he had grown, and I could tell he was nervous. he was from Dunland, for I had met him before, and by the passed word of the wanderers toward the Forsaken, he had let me know he had knowledge.

I slipped him some of the pipeweed I had aquired and he looked at it, and after taking it he looked about and then to me, whispering,

"I have seen her! The one you seek!"

I looked at him with a doubtful gaze, for many have told me this, and many times they were close, but never on the mark like that night in Dorwinion. He leaned toward me and said,

"Near Tharbad where they are re-building the great bridge, the river is a hard cross, and one so sought by the Kings men such as she could not ford by the city. She crossed Dunland by my fields! I was near the River Greyflood when she swam it! About ten miles west of the city! It is low since the warm spring melted the snows, and the rain has beem little but for the one summer storm."

I looked at the wall. Yes, she stirred it up in Rohan quite a bit, always seem to get clues of her there. I decided his information was worthy for the most part, and gave him the rest of the pipeweed. it was the wild stuff from Rhun, and I would keep the Farthing smoke I just got. He was happy and I went outside to sit and smokeIt had to be Naiore, from what he said, and her movements were usually concealed well. but sometimes poor farmers are not seen, or not thought of as being woprthy of having to be concealed from. Fo even one as wily as Naiore must weary of hiding her every move. But where would she go? Could she be here in Bree? Try to infiltrate the Shire? No, would stick out sorely among the Halflings...

I lay against a tree trunk and smoked and thought, writing again parts of what I called the Annals of the Dúnedain Rangers, when thoughts again drifted to my dream of the morning and then to that day... my hand dug out of my pocket a leather pouch, one not much different from the one he had of Vanwe’s. I opened it and let slip out of it the lock of hair. The hair my knife took that fateful night... I was not thinking the other night or I would have given some of this hair to Vanwe, since she sought her mother.... That was it! Maybe Naiore sought her daughter? Hanasían, you old mossbrain! Surely she was making for the Forsaken, for she must of had word of her daughter! Besides, why linger here when I could see again lady Benia Nightshade and hear her sing once again? But Vanwe was the key.. and I am here...

I stood and stashed away my pipe, parchment, quill, ink, and the pouch with Naiore's hair and made way for the south gate. Blackveil will be grazing, but would know to come at my call when I retrieve my cached gear. I had to make time back to the Forsaken, and it was still morning, I could make it back by nightfall.

I was silent as I rode, Blackveil could sense my urgency. I rode through the day as the sun westered, and a stiff westerly wind drove the air about me cooler, pushing the warm southern summer air back. A squall line of clouds built high in the sun, and their dark undersides belched streaks of rain and an occasional lightning bolt as the differing airs danced up their storm. My thoughts turned to Vanwe and the talk we had of Naiore. How could I tell her that her mother slew such a good friend, leaving a child fatherless and a mother widowed? Did she already know? She will learn of Naiore’s ways, soon enough. I approached the Inn as the sun dropped below the horizon, turning the lands an eerie dark, with the tall clouds sunlit still in the east....

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[piosenniel]

Nerindel's character - Léspheria

NAME: Léspheria Denfëa

AGE: 2901 (As of the Fourth Age 12)

RACE: Noldor (Fathers line Fingolfin, Mothers line Finarfin)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS : Léspheria carries a Silvery grey bow made from the wood of a Mallorn tree, it has the gold leaf and flower design, of these great trees. It is longer and stouter than most. Her brown leather quiver hangs on her back and is always filled with arrows she Fletches herself.

Her short sword is of Noldorin design and hangs on her left side, it bears the crest of the house of Finarfin on the pommel. This sword is dear to Léspheria as it was once her mothers, given to her by her father on his departure from Middle Earth.

Léspheria also carries a small belt knife given to her by Amandur on their first battle together, it has a black handle and a grey blade.

Léspheria has a light shirt of silver chain mail, made for her by the Gwaith-I-Mírdain that resided in Imladris before the war. She wears it concealed under her clothes.

APPEARANCE: Léspheria is tall and slender, her long, straight, dark hair falls halfway down her back and in sunlight the golden colouring of her mothers kin can be seen flecked through it. Her complexion is pale and unblemished, some of her fathers kin liken her to Aredhel, the only daughter of Fingolfin, but when next to her mother it is obvious that Léspheria's looks come from her, they share the same Almond shaped grey eyes, not a dull but bright and piercing, almost as though they could see right into your heart.

Léspheria is no stranger to wearing the fine apparel of court, but prefers to wear clothes of her own design. She favours blues and silvers, but when travelling she wears the forest colours favoured by her kin. It is not often that she is seen in trousers preferring long skirts/dresses designed by herself to be practical for fighting and wandering the wilds. She wears calf high brown leather boots and a hooded cloak of a light but warm woven silken material, that seems to reflect the colour of its surroundings, grey in the hue of twilight under the trees; green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk silver as water under the stars. It is clasped at the neck by a silver brooch shaped in the likeness of Galathilion and bears a crescent moon. (the Emblem of the Eldar)

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Léspheria is Altruistic in nature, which on more than one occasion has got her into trouble, but she is also self-sufficient and capable of making the best of a bad situation.

Léspheria is warm and friendly to those she meet's that she senses are of good heart, to those who are not she is closed and guarded. She also has a tendency to follow her instincts, but never at the risk to others.

She possesses the innate ability to sense the emotions of those around her, this is what allows her to be more trusting than most of her kin, but this ability has its down sides, not only can she sense the emotions of others, but of her mother and twin brother she can actually feel when they are in pain or torment and in turn their pain is laid upon her. Only a few of her family and Amandur know of this weakness in her ability (As they see it). She also possesses the healing ability of her kin, using her senses to locate the site of injury and manipulate it into a state of mending/healing.

Léspheria is a keen Archer and woods woman, both skills taught her by her father and brother, she also carries the wisdom of her kin and is learned in the histories of her people, she harbours the fear that one day she will fall pray to the pride of her ancestors.

HISTORY: Léspheria was born in the TA 132 to Valaindon, her mother who was a High elf of Lothlorien and a descendant of the noble house of Finarfin, and Finderon, her father who was a High elf of Imladris and a descendent of the house of Fingolfin. Both Lespheria and her twin brother Lóthaniel were brought up in Imladris, but when Léspheria started to show signs that she possessed her mothers gifts she was taken to Lothlorien to study under those of her mothers house who remained after the SA.

In Lothlorien she learnt how to discipline her ability and use it to help others. On the eventual realisation that her gift could be use in a darker more sinister way she was physically sick to her core and began to fear her gift, but the words of the lady of the woods healed her of this fear and she carries them in her heart always 'The choices we make are what make us who we are.' and from that day to this she choose to only use her gifts to help others.

In Lothlorien Léspheria also learnt the finer arts, Dressmaking, embroidery, music and poetry she was also taught Archery and Herblore, she learned quickly and became skilful , she learnt also the histories of her kin and the family trees of each line fascinated her most, she soon discovered the there was a space missing in the family tree of her mothers kin, but when she ask about this, she was told that she was mistaken or that it was a mistake made by the writer. But always she sensed that they hid the truth and where ashamed to admit it, so she pursued it no further.

About the year 1974 TA. Léspheria returned with her family to Rivendell, in this year the North kingdom ended and the witch king over ran Arthedain and took Fornost. In this time many messengers passed between Rivendell and the Grey havens and the following year it was decided that Rivendell would send a force to aid in removing the witch king, from the northern lands. On the day that her father and brother were due to leave Léspheria had a premonition of their death in the form of a dream. She begged for them not to go, but they thought her dream no more than anxiety. Léspheria was not so convinced and against their wishes she followed the host north.

It was here that she found out her acute link to her brother, as a blow struck him she fell from her horse experiencing his pain, it was here too that her friendship with the Dunedain began. An Arnorian soldier seeing an elven woman in the battle came to her aid, she persuaded him to help her search for her brother, together they found Her father and brother both injured and with her expert healing skills she healed both, The man from who Amandur is descended faught off the enemy so that she could work unhindered. After the victourious battle Léspheria helped tend others that were injured in the battle.

After the battle of Fornost, under the instruction of Lord Elrond the Elves of Rivendell, taught the survivors of Arnor, the skills required to become rangers, in this time Léspheria too decided that she wished to learn these skills, so both her father and Brother taught her, they were surprised at how quickly she learned and how adaptable she could be. By the time rumours reach Rivendell of a power returned to Dol Guldur, Léspheria is now aiding the elves in the training of the Dunedain.

At about this time Lésperia's mother left Rivendell, and her Father finally tells both of them about Naiore, but not everything. He tells them only of her crimes but not of their relationship to this woman or of the friendship that their mother once shared with Naiore.

Lóthaniel later finds out that Naiore and their mother are cousins and that after Naiore disappeared from Belfalas, their mother helped to look for her fearing that some ill had befallen her. In this time she met their father and he agreed to help her search, but to no avail. Valaindon returned to Rivendell with Finderon. When Finderon returned from the Battle of Dagorlad he did not have the heart to tell Valaindon of what they saw and of the terror Naiore struck in their hearts, for he knew she would not believe it, he too wouldn't if he had not seen it with his own eyes. But after the disaster of the Gladden Fields all the elves learned of Naiores crimes, Valaindon refused to believe what she was told and rode often in search of her cousin, but all she found was a trail of heinous crimes. so she returned to Finderon and chose to live in denial. but of this Lothaniel says nothing to Léspheria.

In the time that Valaindon is away from her family she finds Naiore, not far from Lothlorien. Naiore reading her cousins thoughts pretends to have been tortured and used by Sauron and forced to do the treacherous things that she has done, knowing that her old friend would show pity on her. Valaindon thinking she was right all along about her friend, makes the mistake of not reading her cousins emotions. Valaindon meets secretly with Naiore (As her cousin feigns to be to afraid and ashamed to face her kin) and brings her news of Lothlorien, it is through Valaindon that she learns that Menecin still loves her and longs for her return, Naiore then slowly begins to draw secrets from her cousin regarding the defence of both Lothlorien and Rivendell. With the coming of Menecin to Rivendell, Valaindon realises she has been deceived and the pride of her kin engulfs her and in rage she relentlessly peruses Naiore who she finally sees as her enemy. the following year she losses the trail, but does not give up searching. She is eventually captured at the end of the year 3017 and is taken to Barad-dûr, where she again meets Naiore who takes great pains to torture her and break her elven spirit, but with the fall of Sauron she is forced to flee leaving Valaindon for dead in the pits of Barad-dûr. She is eventually found by Amandur and other Rangers that dared to enter the great fortress after the war.Of these events Léspheria knows only bits and pieces.

During this time she helps the Dunedain and later she protects the borders of Rivendell, In the year that her mother was captured to the day she died (the best part of a year) Léspheria fell into a fever from which none could cure. Léspheria experienced her mothers torture at the hands of Naiore, though she tells none of this, and only learns of her mothers torturer some years later.

After the war Lésperia's mothers body is brought back to Rivendell, in his grief their father goes with the ring bearers to Valinor, but Both Léspheria and her brother choose to remain. In the 2nd year of the fourth age Léspheria is asked by Lords Elladan and Elrohir, if she would consider becoming one of their emissaries between men and elves, to which she humbly excepted.

It was in this role that she found out the full extent of Naiores crimes, and that the council of King Elassar wished to bring her to justice. Their were a few elves who also wanted to see Naiore brought to justice, but Léspheria not wishing any kinslaying convinced the council of elves to allow King Elessar to bring Naiore to stand trial in Gondor.

_________________________________________________


Nerindel's Post for Léspheria


The midday sun shone through the open stable doors as Léspheria finished packing her white elven mare. Turning towards the doors and shielding her sharp elven grey eyes, she watched the tall figure of her friend as he scanned the road beyond the courtyard. She recalled their first meeting, the young ranger had been sent to the halls of learning in Rivendell to meet with his new tutor, but on entering the halls and seeing only her he had winked mischeviously and asked if she knew were he could find the master of the halls. She managed a weak smile as she remembered Amandur's apparent embarrassment, as she informed him that she was to be his tutor.

He must have sensed her watching for at that moment he turn to face her, a warm smile playing on his lips. Léspheria kept her smile as she walked towards him, glad that the great war had not adversely effected him as much as it had so many others. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she told him,looking in the direction of the inn that had been her home for the past two weeks. She slowly drew her gaze from the inn and returned to Losseserme's stall, the mare snorted impatiently, as she let Léspheria lead her from the stall to the hitching post outside. Amandur joined her and together they made their way back to the inn.

(1)"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" The elven words slipped off her tongue before she realised that she had said them aloud. "Don't let it worry you, I promise you that I will look out for the young woman's well being as long as my task keeps me here!" Amandur reassured her. She nodded her thanks, glad that he had chosen to keep his watch for Naiore in the inn and not abandon it for her sake.

Amandur pushed open the dark wooden door and held it open for her, "I will wait for you out here!" she nodded and went inside alone. The common room of the forsaken inn was already busy and alive with conversations and the occasional burst of laughter, the dark corners held hastened whisperings and those wishing no other company than their own. Léspheria determinedly made her way to the bar were Fimbriel the auburn haired Rohirrim innkeeper was rushing backwards and forwards filling tankards for the many thirsty patrons, who had chosen to stop in and quench their thirst on this hot midsummer afternoon.

Léspheria raised her hand to catch the innkeepers attention, Fimbriel looked her way and signalled that she would be with her just as soon as she could, while she waited her eyes roamed around the room, The kitchen door swung on squeaky hinges as Rowana Brandybuck hurried back and forth bring lunch to the inn's hungry guests and Amarantha Willow weaved expertly around the tables mopping up spills and refilling empty jars. Léspheria suddenly felt a pang of guilt that she would be leaving when the inn was so obviously busy, But just then she again felt the pain in her left shoulder, reminding her that her brother needed her help more.

As she struggled to focus her mind so she could block out her brothers pain, she noticed something else. "Amarantha, has not Mrs banks or her exotic friend come down for lunch today" she asked gently grasping the young hobbit woman's arm as she passed. Amarantha quickly scanned the room, then shook her head "No! Miz Léspheria I have not seen either one all day, but it has been a might busy today" she shrugged apologetically. "Thank you Amarantha, Miss Nightshade did mention that she was planning to leave, maybe they left early." Amarantha nodded reassured and went back to her work. Léspheria was not so sure, but before she could think any more on this puzzle she heard someone speaking to her "And what can I do for you this fine afternoon" Fimbriel beamed as she brushed a few stray auburn hairs from her face.

"I am afraid that I must take my leave of your fine establishment, my brother is injured and I must go to him at once" Léspheria sadly told her. Fimbriel's smile faded and was replaced with a look of genuine concern "I'm sorry to hear that, of course you must go to your brother, is there anything I can do?" she asked sympathetically. "No, No, I have everything I need, I gave my room key to Vanwe and ask her to hold the room till my return, my journey requires haste, so many things had to be left behind." Fimbriel nodded, then the pair said their goodbyes.

As she left the inn she saw Amandur waiting next to her mount, he helped her up then taking her hand in his he whispered softly, " Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. She then turned Losseserme and set off at a slow trot until she came to the rear of the inn, she had decided that she would go south-west through the downs. She gently bent over and whispered into the mares ear, (2)"Vanne linte!" Losseserme then broke in to a fast gallop, they speed across the downs and did not stop till nightfall.

Under the eaves of a small wooded area not far from the Greenway Léspheria made her camp, after eating a meagre supper she lay down on her bed roll and looked up at the stars, The watcher as always twinkled brighter than the others and as she watched it she could not help thinking on the puzzles that the past three days had revealed to her. The first being the appearance of Vanwe who seemed to be a puzzle in herself, her face was that of a criminal who was much sought after by men and elf alike, but her deep blue sapphire eyes, revealed that she was the daughter of one who remained under the protection of her people. Vanwe had unknowingly revealed that they shared the same bloodline, confirming her suspicions that Naiore was the missing name in Finarfin's family tree, something that her brother and her kin had chosen to keep from her, although she could not yet figure out why?

Her thoughts then drifted back to the southern woman, Benia and her hobbit friend, Gilly and their lack of presence that morning, she only hoped that they had taken her advice and left the inn in secret, Both herself ,Vanwe and a ranger named Hanasian had tended Benia after a rather nasty fall, Vanwe had treated the womans sprained ankle, revealing to her that they also shared the gift of healing. She only had to reduce the swelling and bind it,Vanwe's raw talent was impressive. But on leaving the southern woman to her rest she had seen another ranger who had introduced himself to her earlier as Kaldir, he watched the room with great intent. The southern woman was not the only person that she sensed the ranger was interested in, later that same day she had caught him spying on Vanwe, which he denied when she confronted him, she had guessed that Vanwe would have often been mistaken for her mother and she had been determined that it would not happen again, not while she could prevent it!

Kaldir's lack of emotions had made her suspicious of his intent, but his words had revealed that she had been right to be concerned, "she resembles an acquaintance of mine from the South. I was curious to learn her name to determine if it was she. I was hesitant to approach her directly as the last time we met was under, how shall I say it? Less than optimal circumstances." Sudden pity had lead her to lower her sword and let his reasons pass, she realised that he was yet another victim of Naiore's malice. Strong emotions had surfaced unbidden as he spoke, ones revealing much pain and hatred, emotions that Léspheria feared to explore having felt them strongly through others. First in her own mother and then in Vanwe's father and now this ranger!

Léspheria slowly closed her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, the memories of the emotions she felt from all those who had encountered Naiore Dannan, plaguing even her dreams.


---------------------------------------------
1"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" : "I am worried about Vanwe!"
2"Vanne linte!" : "Go swift!"

[piosenniel]

*** LAST POST FOR THE PLANNING THREAD ***

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Nerindel's character - Amandur

NAME: Amandur II

AGE: 62 (as of midsummer of year 12 of the fourth age.)

RACE: Men (Dunedan)


GENDER: Male

WEAPONS : Amandur carries a numanorean long sword, an heirloom of his family. He also carries an elvish dagger, a small black handled belt knife (one of a pair, Léspheria has the other) and a crude bow, which he uses mainly for hunting.

APPEARANCE: Amandur is 6 ft 2 " in height and has a handsome but rugged look about him. His dark, almost black hair sits just below his jaw line. His Hazel eyes hold the wisdom of his age, he looks only to be in his early forties. His complexion is tanned due to weathering, he is sometimes clean shaven and sometimes not depending on circumstances, (ie in the wilds he sees no need to shave) Amandur has several battle scars, one across his left bicep another across his right leg and a small scar across the clef of his chin are all reminders of the battles of the Pelennor fields and the Morannon. The scar on his right leg sometimes bothers him in colder weather.

Amandur wears black leather pants, white/light grey shirts and dark grey /green tunics that bear the emblem of King Elessar. His high black boots are of supple leather and have seen much wear. He also has a cloak of a heavy dark-green cloth.

PERSONALITY: Although Hardened by war, Amandur managed to remain good hearted and kind. Among his friends and kin he is loyal, trustworthy and well liked, But to his enemies he is fierce, relentless and unforgiving. He tends to speak his mind and is not quick to trust. He has the qualities of being a great leader but prefers not to lead when possible, but like most great leaders this sometimes happens weather he will it or not.

STRENGTHS: Although proficient with a bow, he favours his sword and is very skilful in its use, both on foot or mounted, he has always had an natural ability with horses, his own in particular, the black charger comes when he whistles, and the horse always seems to anticipate his movements, before they are made. Amandur learnt much from the elves during his stay in Rivendell and has become wise in the way of the wilds. He also follows his instincts, but not at the cost of others.

WEAKNESSES: Amandur's weaknesses are his love for Léspheria and his growing over protectiveness of her. Also the scar on his leg is know to give him bother in colder weather or if hit or knocked in some way.

HISTORY: Amandur was born in the Grey Havens on the 31st day of Naríë in the year 2969 TA (1369 Shire reckoning). Amandur was the eldest son of Amandur I and Norvanna both Dunedain of the north and both Rangers, which in itself is unusual as usually only the men became rangers, but Amandur's mother was strong both in stature and will. Cirdan granted her protection in the grey havens when with child. Amundur and his younger brother Aldred spent their child hood in the Grey havens with their mother, their father visited as often as he could.

There was only two years between Amandur and his brother, so the pair grew up together in relative peace under the protection of Cirdan, they both shared a love of boats and a respect for the sea. Their mother and father (when present) took great pains to teach both their children the use of weapons, both brothers favoured the long sword. At the age of 20 Amandur's father took him to Rivendell to train under the tutelage of the Elves.

It is here that he first meets the elven twins Lóthaniel and Léspheria Denfëa. Lóthaniel teaches him the skills required to become a Ranger like his father and Léspheria teaches him of his ancestry and the history of his people. His brother joins him two years later and the four become firm friends. During one battle they shared (a wayward band of orcs making the mistake of leaving the safety of the misty mountains and entering Eriador) his Female elven companion was pressed by Four orcs and as he ran to her aid he thought her done for, but by the time he reached her, battling orcs of his own on the way the four orcs lay dead at her feet, It was then that he saw Léspheria in a new light, as she stood there breathing heavily, with her sword in one hand and a broken dagger in the other, he saw a strong, determined, beautiful but gentle elven woman that he knew from that moment he had lost his heart too. It was also at this battle that Amandur gave Léspheria one of his long twin belt knives, to replace her broken dagger.


About the year 3000 the Rangers guarded the Shire more closely at the request of the White Council and their chief Aragorn. Amandur, his brother and a few others were charged with Guarding Sarn ford, but on the evening of the 22nd day of Yavannie the Black riders drove them from the ford and four of the black riders pursued them eastward. They returned to Rivendell to tell Lord Elrond that the Riders are in the Shire.


Word soon came from Lothlorien that Aragorn required the aid of his kin, Halbarad, Elladan and Elrohir quickly gathered those who could be found and they headed south with all haste, it was here that the two Brothers were reunited with their father. After the hard journey south they were reunited with their chief and rode with the grey company through the paths of the dead and fought the Cosairs of Umbar at Pelargir, taking their ships. Amandur and his brother with their knowledge of sailing were charged with one of the great black masted ships and they sailed up the River to Harlond, to assail their enemy from the flank and rear, on the Pelennor Fields.

It was here that Amandur's Brother and father fell, he did not grieve his loss for he knew that they had both fought fiercely for something that they all believed in, instead he worried for his mother and how this news would affect her, Amandur received his arm and leg injury in this battle, while battling the fierce men of Harad. He tended and bound his own injuries and rode with his kin to the Black gates were he proved himself once more in battle.


After the fall of Sauron and the defeat of his dark army, Amandur remained in Minas Tirith, He was one of the few that dared to enter the great fortress to look for prisoners and any hidden enemies. It was here that he and a few other rangers found Valaindon (Léspheria's mother). She was close to death and they could do nothing for her, but before dying she bade him tell Léspheria that she was sorry, and to tell both her children to protect the gift, but before she could explain she passed away.

After the wedding of their chieftain and now King to the Lady Arwen of Rivendell, he rode with the elven host back to Rivendell bearing Valaindon's body and her final words, there he learnt that Léspheria had spent the whole year in a state of Fitful fever that no one could explain, but on the date that Amandur had watched Valaindon pass away she had miraculously recovered to full health, as though nothing had ailed her, but upon seeing her Amandur knew that what had ailed her would not ever completely leave her.

He Returned to the havens and brought his mother back to Gondor, but the following year she died from the grief of her loss. Amandur remained in the service of the king and was glad when he found out that Léspheria was to be an Emissary for Rivendell. On her visits they always found time to talk and take long walks. In his heart he greatly desired to return north, so when King Elessar asked for people to go north and re-establish the northern city of Annúminas, he was one of the first to Volunteer.

His Knowledge of Naiore was gained from Lóthaniel and the courts of Gondor were she was listed as one of Saurons minions that had not fallen at her masters defeat and was still at large. There were many who sought this woman and from what Lothaniel had told him of this Elf he was in no hurry to meet her, but if called upon to find her he would.

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Nerindel's post for Amandur

Amandur stood at the door to the stables of the Forsaken inn scanning the area just beyond, Léspheria's hesitation before entering the stables had lead him to believe that she had sensed something or someone in the wooded area surrounding the inn. It might be only an animal or another guest, but considering the nature of his quarry and Léspheria's abillities he thought it best to be mindful. 'Once Léspheria has left I will take a better look' he thought to himself, sighing as he realised that he would not be going with her. 'she had been right, the kings rangers may have put the young elf woman's life in danger by following her trail, in the hopes that she would lead them to her mother, and he now felt that it would be wrong to leave the young woman to such a fate, even if he felt that Vanwe may prove a problem later on.

He knew not how the elf woman felt about her mother, he knew she looked for her, but for what reason he knew not. Would she protect her mother regardless of her crimes? blinded in much the same way as Menecin, by love or the hunger of it from a mother who abandoned her. Yes! that may be it, Vanwe's longing for motherly love may be why she is looking for her. Interesting, but it may indeed prove problematic when it comes to capturing Naiore.

Amandur then felt Léspheria's gaze on his back, he turned towards her smiling warmly. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she smiled as she walked towards him. Although she smiled he could still hear sadness in her words as she gaze in the direction of the inn. He then watched as she lead her horse from the stable to the hitching post outside the inn. He followed her quietly. "Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" Léspheria said quietly. Amandur stopped and looked at her, it was not often that she used her own language when not among her own kin. Seeing her obvious concern he promised that he would look out for Vanwe's well being, while he could. She seemed reassured by his words, so he gently opened the inn door for her, "I will wait for you out here!" he said wishing to keep his watch. She nodded and went inside.

Amandur wandered back over to the hitching post and casually leaning on it he continued his watch, thinking about the events of the past month as he did. It was now a month since he received word from King Elessar that the criminal Naiore Dannan had been see heading north. Elessar had requested that he travel to the inn and meet the elf ranger Lóthaniel Denfëa, who would tell him more. He had actually met Lóthaniel just outside Bree about two weeks later, His old friend had been glad to see him and told him everything he and the other rangers had learnt, the discovery that Naiore had a daughter and their belief that this daughter would lead then to the illusive Naiore. Lóthaniel had then explained that he had other business to attend to and would not be accompanying him to the Forsaken inn. Lóthaniel spoke at length about his families connection with Naiore and how Léspheria knew only little, He had been taken aback by the fact that they had kept this information from her, and had argued that she should be told, Lóthaniel had disagreed, he feared that the same fate that befell their mother would also befall his sister. He had reluctantly agreed not to say anything to Léspheria, but he strongly believed that she would eventually find these things out for herself and he had told Lóthaniel so!

The Kings orders were to capture Naiore and bring her to Minas Tirith for trail, there was also a bounty but Amandur was not interested in such things, he wanted only to see this criminal brought to justice. So after leaving Lothaniel he had went straight to the vicinity of the inn. He had made camp just beyond the wooded area that surrounding the inn and for the past two weeks he had been watching it and waiting to see if Naiore appeared, but nothing had he seen or heard of her in that time. The message from the King had also said that there was other rangers in the pursuit of this elf, but he had seen none that he knew until the previous night, when he had observed his good friend Hanasían lying under the stars with Vanwe. he had wondered if Hanasian was one of these rangers, he hoped so. The next morning when he had seen Hanasian leaving the inn, he had intended to stop him and find out if what he hoped was indeed true. But he heard a scream that he had immediately recognised as Léspheria's and his concern for the elven lady had lead him into the inn to see if she was all right.

Before he could finish his thoughts Léspheria emerged from the inn, he helped her onto her horse then gently taking her hands he bade her "Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. He watched her until she was out of sight then he wandered over to the tree's to see if he could find out what Léspheria had sensed, he found disturbed earth and broken twigs, but they could have been caused by anyone, he was just about to give up his search when he heard something! He crouched down behind one of the tree's and watched as the tall figure of the ranger who had help him to take Léspheria to her room after her fall that morning, emerged from the trees nearest the stables, as Lothaniel looked at the good side of the rangers scared face he was sure that he knew this ranger from somewhere, but he could not think where! He watched as the Ranger entered the inn, then he got up and sighed "Well Amandur there is nothing here!" he then walked back towards the inn. He stopped just before the stables and gave a long sharp whistle, the Stablemaster gave him a curious look. But after just a few minutes a tall black charger emerged from the forest, halting right infront of him. "He is beautiful ," the stable master whistled. "Yes, he is" Amandur laughed patting his old friends neck, " I would think that he is in need of fresh hay and something to drink," he chortled handing the reigns over to the bearded man. "I will see to it right away!" the man smiled leading the charger into an empty stall.

Amandur then realised that he too had not eaten all day, so he headed towards the inn to see if he could gain some supper and maybe even a room. "The whispered conversations may even reveal some new clues" he chuckled to himself.

[piosenniel]

*** THIS IS THE FIRST POST TO THE DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THE IN-PLAY RPG ***




Ealasaide, Elora, and Nerindel invite you to play:
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THE LINGERING DARKNESS

Historical Background:

With the destruction of the One Ring and the downfall of Sauron, the evil of the lands fled disorganized and broken before the might of the West. Men and lands that were long under the grasp of the Shadow were now freed by the grace of King Elessar, and peace was known to all. But there were still some who, having been corrupted and having grown used to positions of power, still lingered, either unable or unwilling to admit defeat and accept the rule of the King. They were few, and they had scattered about the lands to hide and cause such troubles as they could. The King, being wise and with much foresight, knew that these remnants of evil would never submit and would spread fear in the newly-freed lands, and would have to be brought to justice. Despite the best efforts of the king's men and with a sizeable bounty on her head, one individual remains at large. This is the story of her final pursuit and capture.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Basic Storyline:

Servants of the King pursue Naiore Dannan, the Ravener of Mordor, who has continued to wreak havoc in the aftermath of the war and has remained elusive of her pursuers. Along her trail of evasion, others have become entangled in her wiles, both with her and against her. This story moves through the varied twists and turns that lead to a final showdown between Naiore and the peoples of the west.

The purpose of the story is to: Bring Naiore to justice.

This means we will know the story is over when: Naiore is captured or killed.

Starting Location: The Forsaken Inn, a day's ride east of Bree.

Likely destination: Gladden Fields

[piosenniel]

Timeframes:

This game takes place in the Fourth Age at around year 12, starting in midsummer.

The storyline itself or plot covers 2 months.

This game requires a time commitment of 13 weeks from me, the game owner and from the major players.

[piosenniel]

CHARACTERS NEEDED:
2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.

These two must be veterans of the War of the Ring. They are loyal to the king and fought against evil, although they do not necessarily have to be of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war. They have a deep friendship with Hanasian, as well as Elrond's sons, Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers 15 years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible battle from some of the older Rangers who were there. Or, they may have encountered him more recently while plying his trade as a bounty hunter. They will probably know of Amandur, as well, as he is a rather prominent Ranger, with close association to Aragorn and the court. Outside of these specifications, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

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2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.

Be as creative as you like with these guys. The only restrictions are that they be male, Men, and up to no good. They can either be working together or separately. They fall in with Naiore, probably somewhere in the vicinity of the inn. While seeming to work for her, they are also trying to figure out a way to betray her for their own profit. There is no loyalty among thieves!


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Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above.

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[piosenniel]

Dedicated Characters:

Ealasaid (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Kaldir and Benia Nightshade (both Race of Men)

Nerindel (Game Owner) will play 2 characters: Lespheria (Elf) and Amandur (Man)

Elora (Game Owner) will play 3 characters: Naiore, Vanwe, and Menecin (all elves)

Snowdog (Game Owner) will play 1 character: Hanasian (Man)

Hilde Bracegirdle will play 1 character: Gilly Banks (Hobbit)

[piosenniel]

NCE’s (Non Controlled Entities – characters who can be used carefully by all players in their posts as needed) who will figure into the storyline:

Elladan

Elrohir

Celeborn

These are actual Tolkein figures and, when writing about them, writers need to exercise extreme care that they are presented with accuracy, according to Tolkein's original characterizations of them.

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Additional NCE's who will figure into the storyline are the personnel of the Forsaken Inn:

Cook - Aldarida Boffin

Server & maid - Rowana Brandybuck

Kitchen assistant & maid - Amarantha Willow

Stablemaster/handyman – Dervorin

Innkeeper - Fimbriel

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's character - Kaldir

NAME: Kaldir

AGE: 42

RACE: Men. Both his father and mother were Dunedain

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword, long knife worn at the belt, and a variety of smaller knives concealed about his person. He also carries a rope and sometimes a whip...tools of his trade.

APPEARANCE: Kaldir is about 6 feet tall with a lean and muscular build. He has dark brown hair that falls just past his shoulders, which he wears tied back most of the time. He is darkly tanned, and wears a short beard. His eyes are of such a pale blue that the irises nearly vanish into the whites. Ice blue is a good description, as his eyes are usually cold, reflecting very little emotion. While the right side of his face is quite handsome, with a high cheekbone and strong brow, the left side of his face has been badly disfigured: the cheekbone smashed, and the skin a twisted mass of scar tissue from his hairline to his beard. This also affects the musculature of his face -- for instance, he can only smile with the good side of his face. Scars also disfigure a good bit of the rest of his person.
He dresses like a Ranger, in the browns and greens of the forest.

PERSONALITY: Because of his experiences in Mordor, Kaldir has a severe case of Post-Traumatic Stress (if you will pardon my foray into modern psycho-babble.) Consequently, there are a few pages missing out of his Personality Handbook. He feels very few emotions, but the ones he does feel are powerful and extreme. Also, he feels very little connection with or empathy for others. He exists in a kind of survivalist vacuum. Under the right circumstances, he could be healed, but, so far, those circumstances have not existed in his life.
He sleeps very little. He is also prone to debilitating flashbacks. Usually few and far between, these are caused by specific triggers. Unfortunately for him, Naiore (as his chief tormentor in Mordor) is one of those triggers. The flashbacks, when they come, cause him to flinch & lose concentration for a few seconds as his mind returns to certain horrific moments in his past that he has suppressed, unable to deal with them.
Finally, due to head injuires sustained during his imprisonment, large portions of his long-term memory of pre-war events have been either damaged or wiped out.
Overall, despite all the damage, he is a hard, tough man. Even so, he has his good points. He is polite and well-spoken, with a dry sense of humor. While he has difficulty forming connections with others, he does form likings for other people, based on respect for them or their actions. He will treat them well and look out for their well-being... as long as they don't get in his way. (Gilly & Lespheria, so far, fall into this category.) Once they get in his way, however, all bets are off.

STRENGTHS: Kaldir is a very intelligent individual, but his main strengths are that he is relentless and infinitely patient. When he is on someone's trail, he can bide his time until exactly the right moment. When he does choose to strike, he is generally fast, strong, and ruthless.
He can track almost anything, anywhere. He is a highly skilled horseman and an expert with a sword. While his archery skills are passable, he generally prefers other types of weapons.

WEAKNESSES: See the Personality description above. Also, his growing love for Benia leaves him vulnerable. In his emotionally stunted state, he behaves (toward others, where she is involved) more like a wolf over a fresh kill than a man with a potential love interest, but his feelings for her are deep. He would go to great lengths to protect her from harm.

HISTORY: Kaldir was born in the north. He never knew his mother as she died giving birth to him. Growing up, he was close with his father who taught him all the fighting and tracking skills of a Ranger. He grew into a brave and intelligent young man, loyal to Aragorn and completely at his disposal. He began riding with the Rangers at a very young age. He was not quite thirty when he fell at the Battle of Raven Falls, where he was taken prisoner by the orcs and transported south to Mordor, where he spent the next three years, and pretty much the duration of the War, as a prisoner and slave of Sauron. While in Mordor, he endured unspeakable horrors at the hands of Sauron's underlings, one of whom was none other than Naiore. Fascinated by pain and death, she tortured and tormented him nearly to the point of death throughout his imprisonment. He only survived through sheer strength of will, his experiences hardening him into the predator he is today.

After the war, he tried to return to the Ranger lifestyle, but found that he could no longer fit in. He gradually drifted away from the society of the other Rangers, keeping to himself and hiring his tracking skills out to whomever was willing to pay for them. Eventually, this led to bounty hunting, oftentimes in the employ of the same types (evil southerners) who had earlier enslaved him, only now they treat him with fear and respect. He travels easily between the north and the south, on no one's side but his own. The other Rangers view him with some suspicion, but generally leave him to his own business as, out of principle, he never goes after any of them. He arrives at the Forsaken Inn with the intent of capturing Benia for the bounty placed on her by Haradrim holdouts in the South. While there, he discovers the presence of Vanwe, who would be worth considerably more than Benia in terms of a bounty, and Naiore, against whom he wants nothing more than revenge. If he can collect a bounty for Naiore after she is dead, so much the better. (He's pragmatic, if nothing else.) His hatred of Naiore is very personal.

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Ealasaid's post for Kaldir

As Kaldir slid the bolt into place that sealed his captive, Benia Nightshade, into her cellar prison, he frowned to himself. Why couldn’t he kill her? There was a hefty price on her head in the south, as there was for any of the remnants of the Painted Sand tribe. He didn’t even need to deliver her alive. Since the Painted Sand people had the peculiar custom of tattooing their women’s hands with clan markings and tribal symbols, all he needed in order to collect the bounty was her hands, salted, mummified, or however he cared to deliver them. When he had abducted her from her bed at the inn the night before, his intention had been to make short work of her. He had even pre-stocked the cellar with an axe, a pound of salt to preserve the hands, and a heavy chopping block. All remained unused and Kaldir found himself facing a fresh set of problems, not the smallest of which was what to do with the southern woman now that he had her.

Stooping to pick up the bundle that contained her used supper dishes, he made a noise deep in his throat that sounded something between a grumble and a growl. If he intended to take her with him, he would have to find a horse for her and some shoes. Having taken her from her bed, she was barefoot with nothing heavier than a cotton dress to protect her from the elements. He would have to find a way to obtain her belongings from the inn. The sprained ankle made the horse a necessity. Of course, she could ride double with him, but he was afraid he would find that a touch too distracting, especially for the journey he had a feeling he was soon to undertake. As it was, he had difficulty pushing the image of her dark amber eyes and shining black hair out of his mind. Having her on the same horse with him would be a disaster. He would get a second horse.

Or he could let her go, just leave her in the cellar to her fate. Kaldir thought about it as he walked back through the darkness toward the inn. That would be the simplest solution, the obvious thing to do, that is if he did not go ahead with his original plan and kill her already. Her hobbit friend would no doubt find her well before she managed to starve to death. Mrs. Banks seemed like the determined type. Nonetheless, he found himself continuing to waver over what to do with Miss Nightshade.

Approaching the inn, he slowed his steps. He was growing annoyed with himself for his own indecision. The problem was that he felt a connection to Benia, as thought she had something to do with him on a fundamental level. He wasn’t sure what that something might be, but, if he were to destroy her, he would never know.

He would get a second horse. He would return Cook’s dishes to the inn, settle his accounts, and then seek out Cobhan Tupper, the local gypsy horse-trader, and negotiate or threaten him into a decent price on a passable mount for the girl. Stopping just outside the inn grounds, Kaldir gave his head a quick shake, as though trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The whole situation was crazy. He should just go back to the cellar and do the deed. When she was gone, that would be the end of it. No more haunting images of smooth brown skin and long-lashed eyes. She would be nothing more than a commodity in a bag, to be turned in for a price. Finally, he nodded to himself but the expression in his pale eyes was bitter and hard.

Pushing the thought of Benia out of his mind, Kaldir stepped forward into the inn’s yard. The grove of trees that lay on the far side of the inn from where he stood reminded him of his more pressing concerns. First of all, there was Vanwe, the young elf lady upon whose head lay a substantial price, placed on her by the Haradwraith village that had been foolish enough to lose her, the daughter of Naiore Dannan. He had almost managed to capture her several times earlier in the day, but each time found himself waiting, instead, for a more opportune moment. She was impulsive and quick, but clearly frightened of her own shadow. He could use that fear against her, but really didn’t think he would need to. She had a tendency to bolt suddenly out of rooms where there was the relative safety of other people to go off by herself, where she became - for him - a sitting duck. He was confident that it was just a matter of time before Vanwe joined Miss Nightshade in her cellar prison. Or, rather, took her place. Then, soon after, he could begin the long journey south to return Miss Vanwe to her village.

But he was troubled by the presence of the other, the one he had taken to thinking of as The Watcher in the Woods. It was a familiar malevolence that he had sensed there that afternoon, one he knew well from long experience. But could it really be she? He had no desire to go creeping about in the darkness to find out, but, come dawn, that was exactly where he intended to go. It would make sense for Naiore to be there. After all, the daughter was there, why not the mother? He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he cast one more glance across the yard toward the gloom and mist between the trees. He had the distinct feeling that she waited for him out there between the black tree trunks, a dark presence with unfinished business. The long-smashed bones of his face began to throb. He had some unfinished business with her as well. Daylight would be there soon enough. He would find out then if Naiore had indeed come to the north.

Stepping across the threshold into the cheery warmth of the inn’s common room, Kaldir made first for the kitchen where he dropped off the crockery from Benia’s dinner. Then, he returned to the common room, where by chance or fate, the first face to catch his eye was that of the horse-trader himself. Always one to follow his instincts, Kaldir took it as a sign. He joined Tupper at his table.

"Greetings, you old horse thief," he said pleasantly, taking the empty chair at the horse-trader’s elbow. "Have you any horses to sell?"

Cobhan Tupper looked up in surprise, then a grin spread across his swarthy, whiskered face. "To an old scoundrel like you? Of course.’ He took a long drink from his tankard. "What happened to that big gray stallion of yours? Did he finally die of ill humor? I believe I still have a hoof print in my backside courtesy of that evil-tempered beast."

Kaldir smiled wryly. "You shouldn’t have tried to steal him." Raising his hand, he signaled to Rowana Brandybuck for an ale. "He’s stabled outside."

"A fine animal! Would you be interested in selling him?"

"No. I’m only interested in buying."

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's character - Benia

NAME: Benia Nightshade

AGE: 30

RACE: Men. Her father is from Bree; her mother, from Harad.

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: A dagger and her father's sword.

APPEARANCE: Benia is about 5'7" with a slim, athletic build. She has an olive complexion. Her raven black hair is thick and straight, falling almost to her knees. She usually wears it in a single plait down her back. She is very beautiful in an exotic kind of way, with an oval face and large, long-lashed eyes of a dark amber color. She lines her eyes in kohl. The only jewelry she wears are silver dangling earrings, and a wide silver band on the middle finger of her left hand. A fine silver chain runs from her left earring across her cheekbone to a small stud in her left nostril. Tiny silver medallions hang, sparkling, from the chain.
Her palms and inner wrists (up to about 3" above her hand) are intricately tattooed with floral patterns and clan markings that identify her as a member of the Rain Clan of the Painted Sand tribe from the Haradrim desert. Usually, when she travels, she wears soft leather gauntlets to conceal the tattoos.
Basically a nomad, she doesn't own a wide assortment of clothes, only a cloak and hood, a couple of dresses (with requisite underclothes, of course), and a couple of veils, which she wears oftentimes when she travels, or when she wishes to hide from the world. Her clothes are all of the soft browns and greens of the forest. (She likes bright vibrant colors, but finds the earthtones more practical for all the travel she does.)

PERSONALITY: Benia is a courageous, yet gentle and caring woman. She is calm, confident, and practical, yet would willingly sacrifice her life if she thought it would save the life of another. She is fiercely loyal to her few friends and the remains of her mother's clan. When it concerns her own safety, she is more apt to flee from her enemies than to confront them, but if another's safety is in question, she will do whatever needs to be done in order to save or protect him/her.
She is shy around strangers, but, once her guard is down, likes a laugh and a good tale almost as much as the average hobbit. She has a beautiful singing voice and likes to sing, but rarely gets the opportunity. She is a skilled dancer after the fashion of Haradrim women, but does not know any of the dances done by the other peoples of Middle Earth.

STRENGTHS: Benia's greatest strengths are her courage and her generosity of spirit. She knows how to handle her father's sword, but only uses it in self-defense. (She is not a warrior or shield maiden by any stretch of the imagination.)

WEAKNESSES: She has a tendency to let her guard down sometimes at the wrong moments. Operating largely on instinct, she has also been known to be a little too quick to place her trust in strangers. Usually this is not a problem as she is usually right about people, but on occasion she has been wrong and ended up putting herself in grave danger.

HISTORY: Benia's mother came from the Rain clan of the Painted Sand tribe, a nomadic tribe of the Haradrim desert. They were warriors and horsemen, like the Rohirrim, but their horses were small and fast, better built to withstand the heat of the desert. Painted Sand was once a large and powerful tribe, but when they refused to fight on the side of Sauron in the War of the Ring, the entire clan was pretty much wiped out. To Benia's knowledge, only a handful of aunts and distant cousins remain. There may be others & she is always on the lookout for them. Because their lives are still in danger from those who followed Sauron, the tattered remnants of her tribe remain on the run, scattered throughout Middle Earth. Some of them remain in contact with one another by leaving obscure messages in predecided locations, but others are simply lost.

Benia's mother, Benia the Fair, left the desert with her parents and four of her brothers many years prior to the start of the War, but there was already a gathering of forces moving toward Mordor. They tried to escape north into Gondor and Rohan, but were pursued by orcs and hostile tribesmen. Her parents and one of her brothers were killed before reaching Harad's border. She and her other three brothers made it as far as Rohan, where they we captured by a Rohirrim horse patrol. Jack Nightshade, originally a Bree-man who had migrated to Rohan in search of adventure, was one of her captors. He and two others were given the chore of escorting the prisoners back to the city. By the time they arrived at Edoras, he and the desert lady had fallen in love. She remained a prisoner of the Mark for a brief time until her story was heard and verified, then she and her brothers were released. Her brothers swore their allegiance to Rohan and eventually found service as riders and scouts. Benia the Fair married Jack Nightshade and tried to make a home for the two of them in Rohan.

Jack became a close friend of Benia the Fair's brothers, often riding with them on patrols. Eventually, the brothers won permission to travel back to the desert to seek word on their kinsmen. Jack was granted permission to accompany them and, against his better judgment, was swayed by his wife's pleas and allowed her to accompany them as well. It was only after they had travelled a goodly distance toward Harad that it was discovered that Benia the Fair was pregnant. They had gone too far to send her back, so they continued on and Benia's daughter, Benia Nightshade, was born in the desert of her kinsmen. When the company finally reached the far savannahs, the ancestral base of the Painted Sand clan, there was no one left, just slaughtered horses and skeletons bleaching in the sun. They stayed there in hiding until the Benias were strong enough, then began the journey back to Rohan.

On the way back, they were attacked by orcs. The company was split in the fighting. Jack and his wife and daughter fled back into the desert. No one knew what became of the brothers. The Nightshades stayed in the desert, getting by as best they could until little Benia turned seven. Then Jack decided it was time to return to Rohan. This time they made it back, but things had changed. Jack was seen as a deserter and imprisoned. He managed to escape and, taking his little family with him, fled again. This time, they went North to Bree and his ancestral home. There, the Nightshade family took them in. They managed to stay there in peace and contentment for a while, but by the time little Benia reached her teens, rumors of trouble began to haunt them again. Mysterious strangers had been coming up the Greenway to Bree, asking about desert people and describing little Benia and her mother. It was clear that they meant them ill. Jack decided it was time to run again.

He bundled up his wife and now teenaged daughter, taking the unlikely road west toward The Shire. The strangers were in hot pursuit and nearly overtook them but for the brave interference of a hobbit called Gilly Burrows (now Banks), who at great peril to herself and her family, took it upon herself first to conceal the three of them and later to help them escape.

The three Nightshades did manage to escape, but were not so lucky the next time. They were overtaken by bounty hunters a short while later in some wild and lonely spot. Benia the Fair was killed and Jack was badly wounded. Little Benia remained unharmed only because she had been dawdling away from the camp when the tragedy struck. Carefully, she sheltered and tended to her father until he was well enough to travel. As soon as he had regained enough strength, they returned to his family in Bree, where he completed his convalescence. As soon as he was able, he took his daughter and the two of them vanished into the wilderness, never again attempting to call anyplace home for long.

Jack was heartbroken at the loss of Benia the Fair and never quite recovered from it. Eventually, he took to drink and was killed in a tavern brawl. Benia Nightshade was left on her own. She continued to travel, eventually working her way south again to the desert where she was able to locate a few surviving members of her clan, who tattooed her hands and finished teaching her the ways of the desert. Now she spends the majority of her time traveling from place to place, looking for her scattered kinsmen, helping them where she can and trying to assist in the rescues of those who are still imprisoned. She has never married, and, though she keeps in contact with her father's family in Bree, the connection is rather tenuous. Even though she is Jack's daughter, they still view her as a foreigner and help her on occasion only out of loyalty to her father's memory. They blame her and her mother for Jack's death.

She arrives at the Forsaken Inn as the result of a desire to see Gilly. Banned from the Shire (along with all the other Big People) by order of King Elessar, she sent a message to Bywater asking Gilly to meet her at the inn. She didn't go as far as Bree because of the tense nature of her relations with her father's family. The Nightshades are a big family, & she knew she could not be there unbeknownst to them.
_____________________________________________

Ealasaid's post for Benia

Bound wrist and ankle, Benia Nightshade lay in the darkness of the abandoned cellar. Despite the skilled healing efforts of the two elves back at the inn, her sprained ankle throbbed under the tightness of the rope. Kaldir, the bounty hunter who had seized her out of her bed at the inn, had been gone for hours. She had already begun to wonder if he was ever going to return. Half of her mind hoped that he would. She would hate to starve to death, alone and forgotten, in the empty cellar. The other half of her mind hoped never to lay eyes on him again. She knew he meant to kill her. Why he had not done so already was a mystery to her.

Thinking back, she remembered how he had brought her to the cellar and dumped her rather unceremoniously on to the dirt floor. From there he had dragged her over to a wooden chopping block, where an axe already waited, but, instead of chopping off her head or hands as she had expected him to do, he had simply given the tribal tattoos on her hands a long stare in the flickering candlelight. Then, inexplicably, he had kissed each of her palms and left, taking the axe with him. She had not seen him since. The candle he had lit when they arrived in the cellar had burned out hours ago. Now, whether he came back or not, Benia had the feeling that she had come to the end of her life. Either way, she was waiting to die. Whether the end came quickly or slowly seemed to be all there was left to determine. The ropes that bound her were strong and the knots, like iron. She knew there would be no wriggling loose.

Shifting her legs to a slightly more comfortable position, Benia pondered the last several days of her life, thinking about the mistakes she had made. The trip to the Forsaken Inn had been a foolish and sentimental thing to do in the first place, and, since arriving there, she had done nothing right or sensible. Actually, in retrospect, she realized she had thrown caution to the wind nearly from the moment she had first crossed the inn's threshold. With that in mind, she had to admit that it was no surprise to find herself in her current predicament.

The worst part of the whole scenario was that she had not only endangered herself, but involved her friend Gilly, as well, which was - to her mind - unforgivable. Benia sighed. She hoped desperately that Gilly was well on her way back toward Bywater and safety by now, not hanging about inviting more trouble. She blamed herself for Gilly's involvement. If she had just not written that letter inviting Gilly to meet her there at the inn, none of this would have happened. Gilly would be safe at home with her family in Bywater, and Benia, herself, would be going about her own business miles away from the inn. There would have been no ill-fated songs, no sprained ankle, and, most of all, no bounty hunter.

She was sure the song was what had summoned the bounty hunter out of the wilds, like a genie from a bottle. She had made the mistake of letting herself get too comfortable in the warmth of the inn's common room and, not only bursting into song, but bursting into song in the most conspicuous way imaginable... in the language of her own nearly extinct Haradrim tribe, complete with finger cymbals. In the darkness, Benia blushed from her own foolishness. She might as well have just burst into flame. It had been no coincidence that the bounty hunter had appeared the very next day. She was sure of it.

The sprained ankle, too, was as much her own fault as anything else. If she had just watched where she was going instead of worrying so much about where the bounty hunter was, she would have seen the pewter tankard left on the stairs. As if that wasn’t enough, she had pretty much sealed her own fate by sending the kind Ranger, Hanasian, who had helped her after her fall on the stairs, on that ridiculous errand to Bree. In all reality, he had been her only protection. As soon as he had gone, the bounty hunter had made his move and the next thing Benia knew, she lay tied in an empty cellar, waiting to die.

She sighed again and was just closing her eyes to try to sleep when the sound of a firm step on the floor over her head jolted her awake. She struggled into a sitting position and edged away as best she could from the narrow staircase that led upward to the abandoned blacksmith’s shop. There was a click and a slide of a bolt, followed by the creak of stiff hinges as the trap door opened over her head. Straining to see through the darkness, she could barely make out the tall shape of the bounty hunter descending the stairs. He carried a small bundle which he set down beside her. A few seconds later, a fresh candle flickered to life. Benia’s amber eyes struggled to adjust to the light as the bounty hunter knelt beside her and untied her wrists. When he had finished, he moved away to take a seat on the stairs.

He nodded toward the bundle he had left on the floor beside her. “I suggest you eat,” he said quietly.

Startled, Benia did as she was told and reached for the bundle. She had not eaten in over twenty-four hours, but it was not until she smelled the rich aroma of Aldarida Boffin’s cooking that she realized she was famished. Even so, she hesitated before taking even the first bite. She turned a curious gaze toward the bounty hunter, who only smiled his peculiar one-sided smile, the candlelight casting his scarred features into sharp planes of dark and light.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking,” he told her, guessing her unspoken question. “I suggest you eat it.”

Benia did as she was told. Even though it was just a cold supper of whole grain bread and cold chicken, she couldn’t remember when any food had ever tasted so good. Watching Kaldir from the corner of her eyes as she ate, she saw that he was simply waiting for her to finish. His sword remained sheathed at his side and there was no sign of an axe. Even the chopping block lay where he had left it. Finally, she gathered her courage to speak.

“If you mean to kill me,” she asked. “Why do you bring me a meal?”

“Perhaps I don’t mean to kill you just yet.” Seeing that she was finished, he rose from his perch on the stairs and gathered the empty crockery back into the bundle. “You’ll need your strength. Can you ride?”

Benia nodded.

Kaldir did not answer immediately, but picked up the rope and retied her wrists, even tighter it seemed than before. “Then we leave on the morrow,” he said at last, casting barely a glance at her bare feet that lay partly visible under the hem of her dress. Without any further explanation, he took up the bundle of now-empty crockery and departed back up the stairs.

Alone in the candlelight, Benia listened as the trap door creaked shut and the outside bolt fell into place with a decisive click.

[piosenniel]

Elora's character - Naiore

NAME: Naiore

AGE: 6,450 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS:
Naiore possess a range of weapons. She carries a curved long sword of Noldorin make and numerous daggers. She is at all times in possession of a long silken cord she uses as her garrote. She owns a range of torture devices, some made for her and some she invented herself over the years. Most dangerous of all is her ability to sense and manipulate the emotional states of others. She is expert in breaking apart the spirit and souls of others, inflicting pain to an infinite degree.

Naiore has adapted the typical amour of her people to suit her needs. She blends a light, finely wrought chain mail with leather. Her amour is as black as the unlit night.

APPEARANCE: Naiore is fair by Noldorin standards. She is said to be reminiscent of Galadriel in he beauty. Her hair is golden and hangs to her waist. Her eyes are a starlit silvery grey, wide, clear and large. She is slender and deceptively strong for all of her fragile beauty. Her voice is velvety and her skin is without flaw. Naiore usually wears a serene expression that belies the intensity of what passes through her mind.

Naiore favors opulent clothing, silks, velvets and brocades. She often wears jewelry, and was an incongruous figure as she passed through the halls of Barad Dur in her finery. She has exquisite taste and prefers luxuriant indulgences. Even her amour and leather are impeccable. Despite her work, Naiore is fastidious and has not great like of blood and gore. When not in amour, Naiore resembles the highly born Elven noble woman she is.

However, her inky amour is known throughout the southern lands and is etched on the minds of survivors. It is that, combined with her serene expression and emerald eyes that most remember no matter how much they crave to forget.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Naiore is a complex blend of some of the strongest abilities and worst flaws in her kindred. She is a self-possessed and highly disciplined character. Ambitious and driven, she has contempt for weakness such as she sees it. She is manipulative and exploits her appearance whenever possible. Naiore has a formidable intellect, and is calculating. Her curiosity and need for knowledge are what rules her. She has a fascination for the baser darker and wilder aspect of life.

Naiore has no time for crudeness or other indecency. Indeed, she can be the soul of decorum and sophisticated grace until such time as she is murdering you. Naiore is a loner, rarely forming any lasting relationships. She avoids openly lying where ever possible, but uses deception readily. Naiore is tenacious. She refuses to admit defeat.

She has considerable contempt for rulers and nobles, and an implacable hatred of Numenorian and Eldar alike. A sensualist, Naiore’s weakness is for finer things in life and beauty. She believes herself superior to most around her. Any compassion or capacity to love is hidden deeply. Naiore is an Elf who believes all is lost and henceforth she has nothing to loose. The only limits she observes are those she sets herself.

HISTORY:
Naiore was born 12 S.A in Belfalas during the time where her people started to rise to dominance. Elven cities were being founded across the land and it was a time of great hope. She was born into a noble family, her father and mother both holding a place at Gil-Galad’s court. Naiore was also born with the ability to sense the emotions of those around her. This ability grew as she did. A serious child, often lost in her own world, she was doted upon by both parents. Naiore was both fascinated and slightly repulsed by other people. She sought few friends and had little regard for the opinions of others.

As she grew older, her mother began to wonder about her daughter. They tried to induce Naiore to participate in the society in which she had been born. Whilst she was not openly rebellious, she found ingenious ways to avoid or discourage such ventures. As her gift grew, Naiore noticed a discrepancy between the façade of civilization and the inner emotions of those within it. She became fascinated with impulses that many refused to acknowledge existed within themselves. The forbidden nature of her inquiry seduced her further. When her forays became too confronting, Naiore was prohibited from further investigation.

It was then that Naiore realized that she was somehow wayward and different. She became more isolated, and developed contempt for the apparent foolishness of her parents and kin. Meanwhile, she continued to explore the more fundamental aspects of personality such as fear, anger, pain, greed and lust. Her pride grew, and she discovered she had a certain power from this knowledge. In particular, pain attracted her. It was so prevalent in those who had survived the First Age.

During this time of secret forbidden knowledge, Naiore met and became betrothed to Menecin, another who was different. War was brewing over the sea, and Naiore could sense a power growing. It tempted her. Proud and contemptuous of her own kindred, Naiore sensed that many of her forbidden questions could be asked and mayhap answered by this new power. Then she would have new knowledge and with that so much more. The alternative was a stultifying life as wife to a wandering, itinerant bard whose insights into the emotional jungle were limited to songs and poems. Or perhaps she could beg leave to serve as Galadriel’s hand maiden. It was not enough.

She waited as war loomed larger and larger. She became distant, for she had already left. Her ambitions always traveled far ahead of her. On a stormy night, Naiore abandoned Belfalas in the year 3429. When Sauron returns to Middle-earth, Naiore is waiting for him. As Menecin and her people sought her, Naiore found herself in a new place. She was both welcomed and mistrusted. It amused Sauron greatly to have an Elf in service with orcs. She was tested, time and again, and grew in stature within Mordor.

Her special talents were encouraged and grown. She became adept at interrogation and torture. She was able to plan and execute terror campaigns that could not be left to orcs nor even entrusted to Wraiths. Naiore sought one answer in particular. She would often ask victims in the throes of their last moments, “From where does fear spawn?” The answer never came, but her hunger for it did not abate. Sauron used her throughout Khand and Harad, to inspire obedience and terror in the lands under his yoke. She worked alone, and proved gifted. Her discipline, ability and determination made her a horrific weapon and she ranged widely.

Naiore entered Rohan for the first time in the year 3430 S.A and there began to bring Mordor’s insidious terror to the north. She preyed for long years upon the Men of that land. Rumor of her spread, but it was not until the Battle of Dagorlad that Naiore openly emerged. She fought with Sauron’s hosts against the Last Alliance, Elven fair with foul shadow at her back. She slew Elf and Man alike, in the grip of terrible desperation. Her kindred saw her and recoiled in horror at what she had become.

At the defeat of Sauron, Naiore fled south with those that survived. Barad-dur was under siege. She plunged into Khand and Harad, where her terror still kept the Men there compliant, and waited. She could sense Sauron still and she had nowhere else to go. Naiore slipped into Dol Guldur over the long years, and once again aided Sauron in her addictive search for power and knowledge. She made one detour that was not at Sauron’s bidding, and it is rumored that she did this more than once.

Naiore encountered Menecin. She all but destroyed him through deception, cruelty, manipulation and suffering. She thought him dead when she left him again in the year 2091 T.A. When she discovered she was pregnant, she believed it was Menecin’s revenge from beyond the grave. She kept all knowledge of her pregnancy to herself. Her competitors in Mordor would use it against her. Elven fundamental beliefs prevented her from ridding herself of the child. Naiore went back to Harad, much to the wrath and chagrin of Sauron, and bore Vanwe. She sensed her child’s gifts could perhaps rival her own. Naiore made an arrangement with the remote village. They were to keep Vanwe there, in perpetuity, or suffer her full ferocity. That arranged, Naiore returned to Mordor and Sauron. Vanwe’s existence was secret.

The fall of Sauron brought Naiore’s career to a sudden end. Gone was her stature and position. Gone was the protection Mordor offered her. Gone also was the reason she lived. She had no answers still, and the prospects of ever finding them seemed remote. Naiore again went to ground, this time utterly alone. Her people were leaving, yet she had no place with them. Her foes were hunting for her, and her usual safe haunts were no longer safe. Bereft of ambition, and having sacrificed everything for knowledge she did not have, Naiore is faced with a crisis. She had been waiting for the day when Sauron would have dominion over the lands. Revenge on those who had taken her future from her galvanized her into action. As she set about, Naiore learnt of a land called the Shire, citizens of which had engineered this ignominious defeat. Once again, she sets herself a northward course, choosing that over accepting defeat. The Shire would be made to suffer more than Khand, Harad and Rohan ever had.

_____________________________________________


SEE REWORKED POST FOR NAIORE - PAGE 2

Elora's post for Naiore

The morning shadows proved stubborn despite the rising of the sun in her summer glory. Naiore made the most of what little providence seemed availabled in their existance. She remained still and at relative ease in the embrace of a shadow cast by the ancient bole of a fig tree. It loomed massive over her, surrounded by the adjoining woods that carpeted the land around the inn she was watching.

Some may account it a pleasant place. For Naiore, it was a land of failure and frustration, a wretched place and she had little love for the tree or anything else that lived within it's bounds. She was difficult to see, folded as she was in morning darkness. Her inky leathers bore the stains of hard travel. Mud daubed her boots, all but obscuring the delicate silver tracing a vine up her boots. Her state and presence gave rise to a great many questions, the answers to which Naiore did not greatly care to entertain as she cast a simmering glance towards the Forsaken Inn.

Rangers, cursed scions of Numenor, had pushed her hard through the wilderness. She had managed to elude them, her skills tested as they had not been in the past 12 years. Still, although she was for the moment safe, she was far from pleased. It grated to be sitting beneath a shedding tree encrusted with mud. She should, right at this moment, be running in free abandon further to the north. She should, as she sat in darkness gathering her wits and thoughts, be bringing a new tide and era to a land that had escaped the harsher ravanges of war.

Naiore flicked a braid back over her shoulder, it's golden weight added to the other seven that hung down her back. Instead, she had been cheated of even the small prize of the Shire. Rangers and her own people conspired to hem her in and bring her down like an animal. They would take, bound hand and foot, to face justice as the ignorant liked to call it. There was no justice. Those who sought it were fools, nothing more. If anything, two ages spent in the turmoil of Middle-earth had taught her that.

She who had held such power in countless lands, mastered terror and was mistress of the hounds of war and hell, sat in a cold wood. Even had she tried for the Havens, she could not penetrate the bristling ring set in place by Elessar around the Shire. His name curdled in her mouth. Twelve years spent running for this!

Naiore raised starlit grey eyes to consider the Inn once more. Her face was impassive, as often it was, carved elven beauty remarkable even amongst her own kin. Her face had beheld horror untold, she had wrought it with her own hands, for reasons few could understand. Now she sat waiting for an incipient snare to spring, dirty and desperate but not without her pride. She wore that like armour. It had gotten her through before this day.

The Inn was quiet in the early morning. Her gaze shifted to the stables, where it was said her daughter was. Naiore could see no sign of Vanwe just yet, but her sources were adamant. They well knew the price their lies would earn them. It was a difficult death at the hands of a Ravenner, merciless at the pinnicle of Sauron's Order of terror and suffering.

Somewhere was a Ranger too, one she knew. She had expected to find Kaldir skulking in the forest. Such acts were not beneath him as they were her. The presence of both Kaldir and Vanwe was not a coincidence that could be ignored. She should have killed the whelp when she was born, unwanted by-blow that Vanwe was. The idea that some long buried maternal instinct prevented her was laughable should the consequences of her restraint not be so perilous.

Vanwe should be well south, in the desolate Haradwaithe, kept with the goats and the barbarians she had left her with. The fact that she was not, had left and survived the journey north and eluded capture told Naiore much. The fact that Vanwe was known to be tracing her told her more. She would be a woman now, mature and no longer a helpless babe. Perhaps she could use Kaldir to put an end to her and her threat. She could see to Kaldir after that.

But the fallen Ranger would need to be pushed, if only to see past his immediate mercenary loss in Vanwe's death. It remained to be seen if she could achieve that. He had proved difficult to break, those years ago. Kaldir was a rare challenge, one she had enjoyed then as she hoped to soon now.

Naiore waited out the morning. Soon they would rise and begin their days. Vanwe would appear. She worked in the stables, assisting a man who was no real threat for the likes of Naiore. Kill Vanwe and Kaldir, attempt again to push north without a tail, and see if bloodshed could not find the Shire afterall. She was without any other purpose, and she would pursue this with a breathtakingly singular will that proved stronger than steel.

The Free Peoples could not hope to contend with her. Sauron himself had never truly conquered all of her heart and soul. Menecin neither. In the face of all she had endured and perpetrated throughout the wars of the Second and Third Age, rising time and again, ceaselessly vigilant in her quest for knowledge that had consumed her life, achieving the death of her daughter and Kaldir was nothing but a light aside.

Perhaps, Naiore mollified herself, one of them held what she looked for. Perhaps they could tell her from where fear spawned. It was unlikely, but possible. She held to that, for it made the ignomy of her failure in recent months to reach the Shire, her fugitive life since Sauron's fall lesser. How they would have laughed to see her reduced to such a state, provided they escaped her with the facility to laugh intact within their bodies and souls. She could endure a rough night and hard travel if it meant the achievement of all she had endured and suffered for.

Whilst her riddle of fear circled in her head, Naiore watched from the trees still garbed in morning shadow. She needed but the slightest opportunity to begin, and she had tired of idle waiting and ceasless flight.

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Elora's character - Menecin

NAME: Menecin

AGE: 6,729 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS:
Menecin possess the weaponry expected of an Elf who lived through three tumultuous ages. He has a sword and bow and daggers, all of Noldorin make. His amour is typical Noldo, a combination of light steel and leather worn by all who fought in battle. At the opening of the 4th Age, he has all but forgotten weapons and amour.

APPEARANCE:
Menecin is a tall Noldo by their standards. He has the dark hair of his people and their fairness also. His eyes are a piercing blue sapphire and they see far indeed. He is not powerfully built, but is by no means thin or weedy. His hands are long fingered and deft, a mark of his profession and ability. His voice is deep and musical and his smile, when it is seen, is as bright as the lamps of his people.

Menecin’s clothing reflects his Elven heritage, although in latter days he pays it little attention. He wears the natural fabrics favored by his people in deep shades of jewel color. Menecin favors royal blue, and has done since he was a boy. He is no stranger to elaborate court garb, however he prefers more functional clothing by habit. In the times he roamed the land, he went clad as a hunter and warrior, for he was a little of both at that time.

His trademark possessions are his richly carved leather pack, in which he carries his papers and music, his flute made of mithril silver and his lap harp which he carries over his shoulder in a beaten and scuffed hard leather case.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Menecin was born at a time when Elves were discovering Men in Beleriand. He is well acquainted with the Edain, wandered amongst them. He showed his gift for music at an early age, something his parents thought held extraordinary promise. He was a quiet child, peaceful and patient. He learnt quickly. He had little to say, and most of that he said through his craft as a bard. Those around him realized that when he did speak, Menecin was an individual that bore listening to. He had an artist’s insight and perspective. Fostered by Maglor, Menecin attained a first hand understanding of the depth of grief and woe that beset the Noldor, the Sons of Feanor in particular. He is no stranger to sorrow and strife.

Menecin’s solemn nature sometimes seemed fey. He formed few close relationships and was not a man given to whim. What he did, he did with all of his being, possessed as he was of great passion and the strength to feed those passions.

He is a capable fighter, terrifying when battle merges with a passion. He fought in the First Age where necessary and acquitted himself well at such times. He has little interest in such reputations though. He acquired an air about him that resulted in few people wishing to trifle with him. He was quiet, possibly dangerous, and liable to see things exactly as they are no matter how bleak that may be.

He is sometimes seen as taciturn, and is stubborn. He resists being led. In recent years, Menecin is a shell of his former self. He has lost his passion for life, but cannot bring himself to let go of mortal lands. He is dangerously melancholy, given at times to bouts of black rage that consume all around him. Those few whom truly know him see a stranger. Many think him insane, until they see the entirely sane streak of agony in his eyes. There are few who can withstand his glance now, and what little music he puts his mind too is achingly painful.

HISTORY:
Menecin was born in 305 F.A during the time of the “Long Peace” in Beleriand. His birth coincided with the emergence of Men, and so Menecin grew up at a time when the Noldo were discovering the Edain and times were relatively good for the Exiles. His parents were of good standing, although not high born. They discovered his musical promise and he went to be fostered by Maglor to study the craft of the bard. There, Menecin developed a reputation for his musical ability and his love of language.

Menecin also discovered the tragedy of the Noldor. His mentor was bound by the terrible oath that caught all Feanor’s Sons. The Long Peace ended, war fell on Beleriand and the oath claimed Maglor. Menecin fought battle and acquitted himself well in that time. He was habitually quiet and somewhat grim, and had little time for merriment during the First Age. The tragedy of his people touched him deeply, particularly when he turned away from Maglor towards the end of the First Age. In this time, Menecin started to emerge as a gifted composer and musician.

Menecin decided to remain in Middle-earth, restless and unready to go to Valinor with the bulk of his people and his parents. He drifted with the remnant of the Noldor to what is now known as the Bay of Belfalas. For a time, Menecin again knew peace. His reputation grew and he rose in status in the court of Gil-Galad. Menecin largely kept to himself, the merriment of the feasts interesting him little. From time to time he would wander the wild places of the world.

It was as he returned from one such a journey that Menecin first encountered Naiore. She was at that time a maiden. Like him, she had little taste for feasts and had strayed from one on that fateful day to wander in a stand of fir trees by the shore of the ocean. As she danced over the sand to the wind singing in the fir trees, Menecin watched. Beautiful even amongst her own kin, he knew himself lost as he watched her move. He added his voice to the song of the wind, and a courtship was begun.

Menecin found cause to remain in Belfalas and not wander. He found in Naiore a muse of sorts. She fascinated and captivated him, most unlike the other maidens of their people. She was of noble blood, descended from Finarfin, and he harbored little hope of marrying her. Yet, Menecin sought her hand and to his enduring surprise was granted Naiore. They became betrothed in 3262 S.A, the year that Sauron was taken as prisoner to Numenor. Unrest after a long peace was stirring again, and Menecin decided to wait until that unrest had calmed before he wedded Naiore. It proved to be a fateful decision.

Menecin, an experienced warrior from the First Age and now betrothed to a noblewoman, found his responsibilities in this time increased. He was drawn into Gil-Galad’s court and there he felt the winds of war blowing around him. He noticed a change in Naiore too, something he attributed to the growing strife. He knew his love was sensitive to such things. Menecin did not discover that Naiore had vanished until her distraught father came to him seeking his daughter.

Thinking that she had fallen prey to the growing shadow that Numenor was falling rapidly under, Menecin abandoned court in search of her. His search failed, as did that of his kinsmen. Haunted by guilt and grief, for Menecin loves deeply or not at all, he refused to abandon hope. War returned to Middle-earth with Sauron, and he became embroiled in the Last Alliance as did many of his kin for he followed Gil-Galad.

Menecin was not at the battle of Gladden Fields. Word came to him after that terrible battle of Naiore. She was alive, it was said, and she fought with Sauron. Scandal and shame gripped her family. He could not believe it, and did not. Her family renounced her as a traitor, and her parents fled to Valinor in horror. Menecin was outspoken in his denial and it earnt him disfavor. He forsook court and embarked on a series of searches for Naiore.

At the time that Ithilen was abandoned in the year 2901 T. A due to orc incursions from Mordor, it is known that Menecin encountered Naiore. He barely survived. The refuge of Henneth Annun found him all but dead on their doorstep. The Men aided Menecin as best they could. Menecin went north, seeking death, and found instead Lothlorien. Recognized, he was taken in and there held under protections should Naiore return. He was also protected from himself. Menecin sank into hopelessness, depression and rage.

He refused to go West at the end of the 3rd Age without Naiore. Unable to take him out of his madness, he was left at Imladris with those few who remained behind. Menecin barely spoke by that time, and his music lay dormant and silent within him.

_____________________________________________

Elora's post for Menecin

The stars were perhaps their most beautiful in early morning. Menecin had remained sleepless through enough nights to make such assessment with certainty. Imladris was peaceful. He was not. It was an irony that never failed to shred what little grip he had on lucidity. The rage and grief twisted upon itself a little tighter. It never got tight enough to stop.

If he stilled, he could hear the breathing of those that watched. As he studied the clear morning sky, he wondered not for the first time what they watched for. They were waiting for the storm to break loose. He knew it for he saw it in their eyes when they thought he was not watching. He never stopped watching though. To stop would be to surrender to the dark fog that sinuously seeped into every thought and dream.

Beside him lay a lap harp. He had left it out all night, instead of covering it from the cool air. A harp such as this deserved better. This harp had played with Maglor. Maglor himself had overseen its construction, had plucked it's strings. Menecin plucked at a string himself. Maglor had gone mad. He had watched it unfold before him. Another irony that did not escape him. He was following in Maglor's steps, but he had taken no terrible oath other than to love her.

Her face was carved upon his memory, as was her voice and her scent. He could feel her upon his skin still. Menecin's eyes closed, the ache rising. She was there, just beyond his touch. No evil was in her that could be seen. Yet her actions were filled with such malice of intent. The rage sharpened and the grief. She was there but was lost, as was he. Adrift in pain, the world shattered by love, vast gaping wounds in his spirit that did not heal. Neither did he die. Even in her pain there was no mercy.

"Perhaps a song to welcome the day will grant what succor sleep did not this night, Menecin."

He could not keep the bitter smile from his lips as he struggled to keep what raged within him in abeyance. The savagery must have shown in his spahhire eyes. It was a brutal light that was revealed to one of the many who watched over him.

"There is no more music," he snarled in reply. The expression of shock was to be expected. Menecin saw it too often to expect anything less. He drew himself back, sealing off his senses. A few short hours, when night was done and the day not yet begun, he allowed himself. He would awaken within him, undead, unalive, in the transitory hours of each day. He would float. He had been brought to anchor by the Elf who had watched him through the night.

Menecin unfolded his tall frame, clad in the customary finery of a skilled bard who had performed remarkable feats of bravery and courage. Wisdom gleaned from three Ages in Middle-earth blended with his distress, making him dangerous to any and all, including himself. He turned, and walked unhurridley back towards the chambers they alloted him at Imladris. Their comfort was barely noticed by Menecin. All was hell.

Behind him, in the eastern sky, day's blush had begun. The stars winked out, one by one, and he withdrew into himself. The startled Elf trailed him, wary and concerned with the bard's beloved harp cradled carefully in his arms. Menecin closed the door to his bedroom firmly. The Elf found the harp's aged and battered case and gently placed it into it's wardship. He straightened, looking at the wooden door that sealed Menecin away from the world.

As many had done before, he shook his head in sorrow. A hint of the bard's formidible passion and greatness had emerged, only wracked with anger. All of it was brought about by one woman, her name no longer spoken. Her bounty price was the highest ever set. No trace of her though, apart from the trail of ruin she left scattered through the lands. For her, he suffered. The Elf seated himself at a nearby table and inked the quill that waited.

Next to the date, he recorded his observations.

"No change, no glimpse of relief, only rage."

His quill hovered a moment and was then set aside. He did not add the other comments that filled his head. Instead, what he did record was the latest on a page filled with similar comments. Books spanning decades, hundreds and thousands of years, contained the same dreary pattern. How anyone endured such torment, refusing to believe that she was indeed what she was known to be, defied imagination. It would have been better that he did not survive. Sometimes, it is best if the healers fail.

The Elf rose once more and stoked the small fire in the grate to warm the room for the next who would watch Menecin. Within his room, Menecin sat disconsolately with his thoughts and attempted to free himself from madness that always loomed and never swooped to relieve him of self-awareness. He longed for it with a need that shamed him.

[piosenniel]

Elora's character - Vanwe

NAME: Vanwe

AGE: 120 (at the commencement of the 4th Age)

RACE: Noldor

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS:

Vanwe possess a belt knife only, but will make do with whatever is to hand as she needs to. That includes anything or sometimes nothing, all depending on where she finds herself. Her limited wealth and propensity to leave in haste wherever she may be makes it difficult to accrue and keep any possessions, weapons included. Uneasy with weaponry, she prefers to avoid it if possible.

She has no armour apart from her wit and survival instinct.

APPEARANCE:
Vanwe is in many ways her mother’s daughter. She possesses the delicate beauty that is the hallmark of Finarfin’s descendants. Her hair is spun gold that falls long to her waist. Her face is evocative of her mother also. She has ivory skin, delicate facial bone structure, high cheekbones and high brow. Her eyes are a deep blue, sapphire, courtesy of her father. She is tall and lithe.

Vanwe’s clothing reflects her childhood in the Haradwaith. It is simple, worn and somewhat sparse by Elven sensibilities and custom. Her stature in the Haradwaith was low, and so she wears no gold or any jewelry. Vanwe wears a simple periwinkle blue cotton dress, acquired on the road when her southern clothing was in imminent danger of unraveling and brought much suspicion upon her whilst traveling. Gondor was still skirmishing and fighting with the Harondor in the opening years of the 4th Age. She also has heavy cloak, cotton, the colour of which is now indistinguishable. This is also acquired, at the time of her flight from the Haradwaith, and is her only protection from the weather. It shows signs of hard use and wear, much like her dress, and once was a deep indigo blue in kinder times. It has a deep hood in which Vanwe shelters from the elements and unwanted inspection and dwarfs her slender frame.

Vanwe wears worn boots on small feet of brown leather. They are light, for the heat of the Haradwaith and not well equipped for the cooler north. She has a belt of brown leather with a sturdy and distinctly mannish design. From it hangs a pouch and her belt knife, whatever else she has stowed there.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Vanwe is an unusual character for an Elf, attributable to both her parentage and how she was raised.

She is decidedly wary of strangers, a product of her upbringing. She has a keen intellect and a thoughtful demeanour. She can be withdrawn and shy, but once she warms to a person she is generally of good cheer. Vanwe is a little unsure of herself and has learnt that meekness can work to her advantage.

She is slow to trust, tends to underestimate herself and expects cruelty from other which she blames upon herself.

However, if nothing else Vanwe has the remarkable ability to survive most things. She is tenacious and when she believes she is cornered she is fierce. She has a natural affinity for music, inherited from her father. Like her mother, Vanwe is able to sense what cannot be seen. In her, this emerges as an ability to heal. She can sense injury and illness as “wrongness” and can manipulate it back to the way it seems it should be. This sensitivity is something she has inherited from her mother and her distant relative, Galadriel.

Vanwe often carves wood as an outlet for her anxiety and distress, finding the shapes she senses within them and setting them free, another example of her abilities. She has a love of beauty and peace. Vanwe is a skilled observer, quiet and fleet footed. Nimble and flexible, Vanwe can earn a living in a number of ways as she is quick to learn.

She is not criminally inclined in a general, but survival sometimes necessitates petty theft that plagues her with guilt even if it does fill her stomach. She can make a good living on the docks and streets with thievery, but this is a risky lifestyle for a lone young Elven woman and so she will exhaust other options first before resorting to theft. She has an aversion to authority that is hard to shake and very much prefers to slip into and out of places unnoticed as a general rule.

HISTORY:

Vanwe is the daughter of the infamous Naiore Dannan. Her mother was of extraordinary beauty and ability, related by birth to the mighty Elvenwise Queen Galadriel. Yet, Naiore chose instead a path of darkness that shamed and horrified her people and terrorized those she came to prey upon. Vanwe is the result of a nefarious union between her mother and the bard she had been betrothed to prior to her betrayal of her people. Menecin had never accepted Naiore’s choice in his heart and had pursued her through the years both in an effort to curtail Naiore’s activities and prove to himself that the woman he loved was not malevolent and twisted.
What came of that is not known to Vanwe, only that Naiore fell pregnant with Menecin’s child.

The Terror of Mordor for reasons known only to herself decided to bear the child and so Vanwe was born. Wanted in Gondor, Rohan, Mirkwood, Lothlorien, Rivendell, Hollin and the Shire, Naiore fled south into the heartlands of her chosen Master. In Harad where she had preyed unstoppable upon the people, Naiore delivered Vanwe in a small and isolated village, remote from the North and also Mordor. She remained long enough to instill such terror in the villagers so as not to dispose of her daughter and then vanished. Vanwe was abandoned without explanation once her mother was certain Vanwe would not arise in the future to trouble her. Her mother saw her as a potential threat and she never considered her daughter as a possible ally.

Vanwe was not welcomed by the villagers. Elven and the daughter of such a feared creature, she was treated with suspicion and resentment. The villagers saw he as some kind of demon spawn. She represented everything they feared and loathed of the north, of murdering Elves and of Mordor. Vanwe's differences from the children of the village were marked.

This only reinforced the chasm between her the people around her. Yet the possibility of Naiore returning to wreak her vengeance upon them was more terrifying than the quiet and sweet natured Elven child. In her early years, before she understood just how cruel people could be to that which they did not understand, Vanwe was given to laughter. This soon faded as she grew older.

Vanwe was cared for, in a fashion, collectively by the village. It was far from a happy childhood. At best she was isolated, alienated and feared. At worst, she was hated as the scion of evil and was the village’s scape goat for any and every disaster that beset them. Lest she exploit their weakness, Vanwe was treated with harsh discipline.

Being strong and clever, Vanwe soon proved of some use to the village. She readily took to the work given her, eager to earn some regard or reprieve. She was trusted so far as to tend to the animals. Life in Harad under the yoke of Mordor is harsh. Outsiders, especially possibly malevolent ones, were a threat no village wished no matter how beautiful the child. When visitors came, she was hidden away. Vanwe was excluded from celebrations and all meals. She ate alone, worked alone, with the exception of those instances where she had somehow come to the attention of the villagers through misfortune or misadventure.

She was seen as a possible bad luck omen by the superstitious villagers. Illness or untimely death in the village was also her doing. Her emerging abilities only further alienated her and inspired further mistrust. Mordor had been instilling in the people of Harad myth and lies about the people of the North, particularly Elves, for generations. Naiore had been the principle agent of that fear campaign, and her daughter paid a costly price. Yet it was the only home she knew, and so Vanwe remained.

As the years rolled past, Vanwe found the fragmented yet vivid memories from early childhood that were empty and devoid of a mother or father did not fade. Like all Elves, she lived them when she slept. An innate curiosity about her own roots grew within her. For a long while, Vanwe spoke to no one of her desire to know more about her origins. When at last she ventured a question, she was hurried into an emergency Village Council and stood before the Village Elders. It was then that she learnt of the terrible woman that was her mother. To the villagers, Naiore was akin to a demon and they saw her reaching for her terrible doom.

Vanwe emerged from that grueling night with their stories, fantastic and seemingly improbable, spinning in her mind, torn and bruised. The Villagers, concerned that Vanwe’s approach to maturity over 100 years would bring her mother back, prompted the fearful re-telling of tales about her mother, some were accurate and some had accrued embroidering of details.

For Vanwe, the shame was an intense pain that haunted her every step. No one could tell of her father, and her questions only grew in number. She grew steadily more determined to get to the bottom of it all, and come to know the truth of both her mother and her father.

When the spring celebration of a good season came to the Village, Vanwe slipped free amidst the bustle as the Villager’s got on with their annual celebrations. It was the year 3021 T.A. Young by elven standards and poorly experienced, Vanwe’s first months of freedom were both terrifying and dangerous. She emerged from the perils of innocence and a hard road in one piece mainly by the grace of providence and her sharp wits. She always learnt her lesson quickly.

By chance or design, Vanwe gravitated towards to coast. By sheer good fortune and determination, she survived the waste of Harad and came to Umbar, where she picked up the trail of her mother. She found employment, shelter and food by whatever means necessary. It was a precarious existence, but it was free of the village. She resolved never to return that hell again.

Vanwe was becoming adept at mastering her environment to varying levels of control. On the coast and particularly in the docks of Harondor, Vanwe excelled in survival. She slowly made her way north, earning passage on a ship to Dol Amroth. Quite unaware she was in the original homeland of both her parents, whom hailed from the Bay of Belfalas, Vanwe set about searching out any little thing she could of them. It was not long before she realized that it was not only the villagers that loathed and feared her mother’s name. Vanwe spent some time in custody, suspected of being Naiore. It left an indelible impression upon her, her new freedom replaced by dank cells and bars.

Across Gondor she drifted and then through Rohan, a land that had particularly cruel experiences with Naiore Dannan. Vanwe learnt to be more circumspect and cautious with her inquiries. However, she asked a wrong question of the wrong person and it brought her to the attention of the Riddermark. The experience taught Vanwe that she may as well be her mother by the time she wiggled free of the mess. Her appearance only worked against her. With a now strong aversion to soldiers, warriors, lords, bailiffs and any other possible authority figure including the Village Elder, Vanwe continued to drift north on the scant trail left by her mother.

She slowly gathered information on Naiore and Menecin. Rumors conflict, suggesting that one or both are dead and simultaneously alive and in hiding. Where and from what depended on who she spoke to. It is a frustrating puzzle, and Vanwe is not helped by the fact that she feels it necessary to mostly avoid the lands her mother is still wanted and hunted in. In those lands, particularly those of Lothlorien and Rivendell, a young Elven maiden cast adrift in the wide world could learn much. It is precisely those places that Vanwe assiduously avoids.

The recognises the latent threat in Rangers as she moves further north, another peril to navigate. She also fears that the village are hunting her. Out of place in the world of Men, strangely odd to her own kindred and treated as most Elves are by most Dwarves, she moves on the ebb and flow of the current of the mortal lands.

She strives ever to learn but it is the haphazard and unpredictable manner of her circumstances, tossed hither and thither, that is perhaps her undoing. She is terrified of the very people that could aid her and show her the place that is hers in the world.

_____________________________________________

SEE REWORKED POST FOR VANWE - PAGE 2

Elora's post for Vanwe

… The water dripped in a regular ceaseless rhythm throughout the day, the night and the day. It was broken up by the scratching of rats in the straw, perhaps a wet and hacking cough nearby or a croaked song that had taken possession of a man’s voice and raised it like a tattered flag of insanity against the reality of the bars. Torchlight flickered fittfully against slick and dark stones as through the flames resented their presence, free as they were from the bars but locked in damp darkness. They would come by regularly, sometimes relighting torches that had rebelled and gone out. Some brought a hard bread that was passed through the bars. That marked the beginning of another day. Sometimes it was water. That marked the night. It was race to claim bread or water before the rats did.

In that bleakness, a spider spun a silken web in the far corner of her cell. The strands caught the intermittent torch light, tiny gems caught in the web to dazzle unwary observers. It would float in the icy blast of wind that raced down the passage every time the outer main door would open. Then the sound of boots would start, counter tempo to the dripping water. There had been a lot of boots on the stone one morning after the bred had been pushed through the bars. The tiny jewels in the spider’s web became fiery with torch light that they had brought with them. She remembered that. It was beautiful, even if everything else was not and she had smiled faintly in that grimness to behold it.

The men had golden hair, like hers in many respects and yet not. It fell thickly around their shoulders, sometimes braided. Her own was a more delicate shade, lighter in weight and smoother in texture. Some clutched helms under their arms. Their torches glinted off mail. It was not as fair as the spider’s web. She remembered a saying as she took in their grim presence. Silk was stronger than steel. She looked into their faces and wondered about that.

One of them had produced a large iron circle. Many keys jangled discordantly from it. He fitted one to the lock at her bars. The others stepped back, hands tightening around sword hilts that jutted from their belt encircled hips. She looked back up at the spider’s web as the door creaked in protest at its opening. Two men stepped through.

“On your feet,” one roughly ordered in Westron. He glowered at her. She did as she was told.
“We need more light,” the other one spat over his shoulder. Men slowly stepped closer to the bars. They held their torches out, relucant to cast light on those within. She was struck by the realisation that they did not really want to see what they thought they were going to.

“Move but a muscle and you die,” intoned the man who had first spoke. She believed him. The other renewed his grip on his hilt, swallowed hard and stepped forward. He tipped her chin up, his fingers hard and rough against her skin. She stared blankly ahead, not daring to breathe. She heard movement, the sound of paper being folded.

“She is reported as claiming her name to be Vanwe,” he said. Doubt was in his voice, tempered also by suspicion and a dangerous anger that could flare brighter than any torch at any moment. Vanwe could smell it. She knew its scent well.
“Perhaps it is so, Farald. Look at her,” urged the man who held her chin so tightly.

“I’ve seen that face often enough,” the other replied heavily. She heard the paper bunch in his fist.
“Then by what sorcery did she achieve this?”

She saw two faces crowd her vision. They peered at her in silence. One shook his head as the other released her chin. She sagged back at the sudden change in balance, recovering quickly. A curse hissed in the silence, and somewhere else someone laughed blindly to fill the hole that insanity left in his mind.

“Silence,” roared one of the men in her cell. He cast her another glance. She lowered her eyes and mentally withdrew. If the anger came now, it was best she was not here. She knew what that glance meant. It was best if she was far away when it started. It was easier.

“It is not her Farald,” the other said.
“You had best hope that it is not,” Farald spat. He turned on his boot heel and stalked from her cell.

“What about her,” a man called after him.
“She can go. If I find her again, she’ll not fare so well. Rohan has had more than it’s share of the wider world and it’s Elves.” His voice floated back down behind him. There was a blast of air as the main door was opened. The men followed him, boot steps filling the prison's sagging emptiness once more. One remained by the open door to her cell.

“I would be swift, were I you. This is no place to dawdle with the doom of Rohan on your head,” he said. He walked away, a slow and measured tread. She watched him open the main door and pull his helm on. he had reports to make. Naiore Dannan was not in custody as they had thought. Those who already readied the gallows would have to wait a little longer. After 12 years and centuries of suffering, a little longer was both an instant and an eternity.

Vanwe ran then, the wind at her heels. She ran running fast, past grass and trees and village. Faster and faster, away from Rohan who nearly hanged her in mistake. Away from Umbar and the slave galleys where soldiers had nearly sold her when their error in her identity was known. North, where her mother had gone it was said and perhaps where her father was buried. Mirkwood, loomed ahead of her. It would be an arduous task to avoid those within it…


“Come Vanwe, the horses are missing you and will not take their breakfast!”

She groggily pushed herself up and out of her bed and dreams. Morning light shone through the open hay doors in a warm puddle. Pulling her dress over her head, Vanwe climbed down the ladder from the stable loft as the Deruvin chuckled good naturedly outside in a giddying contrast to her recently left dreams and rememberances. She pushed open the stable doors, stretching as she did so, and turned back to see to the horses. Some whickered at her as if the innkeeper had spoken truly. Vanwe smiled quietly and soon had the stable’s guests on their way to the day pasture.

She returned to an empty stable, collected rake, shovel, buckets and broom and began the morning’s work. Soon, the spider that sat in one of the many webs in the stable’s rafters had her song to keep her company. Vanwe hummed it, a lilting southern melody as she worked. It was odd, to have fled Rohan only to finish here, tending horses of all creatures. In the sunlight the cold memory faded a little and her song picked up strength. The spider caught the early morning rays in its web to lure and bewilder wandering breakfasts, lunches and suppers as the Elf worked below.

Her thoughts wandered. What would the day bring? Would she be any closer to what she sought? That was an interesting question. What did she seek? Sometimes she thought it was peace and freedom, but then there would be neither without knowing of her parents. She had accepted that fate long ago now. As she swept and raked, her song shifted to a more merry melody.

Would the Ranger return today? He had said he would return and wished to speak with her. She was unwise to seek his company, for Rangers had proved as perilious as the soldiers of Gondor and the Riddermark of Rohan. Still he had spoken gently and did lay upon her shoulders the crimes of her mother. He did looked at her and did not see only her mother's face. He had given her the name of a star.

Vanwe's song was ended by a call from the Inn.

"Vanwe, hurry! Cook's wanting to know why you haven't had breakfast and she'll accept no explanation from anyone else!"

She quickly stowed the broom, rake, shovel and now empty wheelbarrow and raced from the stables towards the inn with a contrite expression on her face. Cook was determined to have her resembling a hobbit in girth. Her golden hair streamed behind her as she crossed the intervening distance on long legs, rubbing her hands on whatever skirt material came to hand hastily.

Vanwe pushed open the door to the inn, spied Cook waiting with stern expression in place and entered. The inn door closed on her words. "I was just seeing to the horses!"

"Those horses eat better than you do, missy! I expect an Elf to have more sense than a herd of shaggy ponies and mismatched horses."

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Nerindel's character - Léspheria

NAME: Léspheria Denfëa

AGE: 2901 (As of the Fourth Age 12)

RACE: Noldor (Fathers line Fingolfin, Mothers line Finarfin)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS : Léspheria carries a Silvery grey bow made from the wood of a Mallorn tree, it has the gold leaf and flower design, of these great trees. It is longer and stouter than most. Her brown leather quiver hangs on her back and is always filled with arrows she Fletches herself.

Her short sword is of Noldorin design and hangs on her left side, it bears the crest of the house of Finarfin on the pommel. This sword is dear to Léspheria as it was once her mothers, given to her by her father on his departure from Middle Earth.

Léspheria also carries a small belt knife given to her by Amandur on their first battle together, it has a black handle and a grey blade.

Léspheria has a light shirt of silver chain mail, made for her by the Gwaith-I-Mírdain that resided in Imladris before the war. She wears it concealed under her clothes.

APPEARANCE: Léspheria is tall and slender, her long, straight, dark hair falls halfway down her back and in sunlight the golden colouring of her mothers kin can be seen flecked through it. Her complexion is pale and unblemished, some of her fathers kin liken her to Aredhel, the only daughter of Fingolfin, but when next to her mother it is obvious that Léspheria's looks come from her, they share the same Almond shaped grey eyes, not a dull but bright and piercing, almost as though they could see right into your heart.

Léspheria is no stranger to wearing the fine apparel of court, but prefers to wear clothes of her own design. She favours blues and silvers, but when travelling she wears the forest colours favoured by her kin. It is not often that she is seen in trousers preferring long skirts/dresses designed by herself to be practical for fighting and wandering the wilds. She wears calf high brown leather boots and a hooded cloak of a light but warm woven silken material, that seems to reflect the colour of its surroundings, grey in the hue of twilight under the trees; green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk silver as water under the stars. It is clasped at the neck by a silver brooch shaped in the likeness of Galathilion and bears a crescent moon. (the Emblem of the Eldar)

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Léspheria is Altruistic in nature, which on more than one occasion has got her into trouble, but she is also self-sufficient and capable of making the best of a bad situation.

Léspheria is warm and friendly to those she meet's that she senses are of good heart, to those who are not she is closed and guarded. She also has a tendency to follow her instincts, but never at the risk to others.

She possesses the innate ability to sense the emotions of those around her, this is what allows her to be more trusting than most of her kin, but this ability has its down sides, not only can she sense the emotions of others, but of her mother and twin brother she can actually feel when they are in pain or torment and in turn their pain is laid upon her. Only a few of her family and Amandur know of this weakness in her ability (As they see it). She also possesses the healing ability of her kin, using her senses to locate the site of injury and manipulate it into a state of mending/healing.

Léspheria is a keen Archer and woods woman, both skills taught her by her father and brother, she also carries the wisdom of her kin and is learned in the histories of her people, she harbours the fear that one day she will fall pray to the pride of her ancestors.

HISTORY: Léspheria was born in the TA 132 to Valaindon, her mother who was a High elf of Lothlorien and a descendant of the noble house of Finarfin, and Finderon, her father who was a High elf of Imladris and a descendent of the house of Fingolfin. Both Lespheria and her twin brother Lóthaniel were brought up in Imladris, but when Léspheria started to show signs that she possessed her mothers gifts she was taken to Lothlorien to study under those of her mothers house who remained after the SA.

In Lothlorien she learnt how to discipline her ability and use it to help others. On the eventual realisation that her gift could be use in a darker more sinister way she was physically sick to her core and began to fear her gift, but the words of the lady of the woods healed her of this fear and she carries them in her heart always 'The choices we make are what make us who we are.' and from that day to this she choose to only use her gifts to help others.

In Lothlorien Léspheria also learnt the finer arts, Dressmaking, embroidery, music and poetry she was also taught Archery and Herblore, she learned quickly and became skilful , she learnt also the histories of her kin and the family trees of each line fascinated her most, she soon discovered the there was a space missing in the family tree of her mothers kin, but when she ask about this, she was told that she was mistaken or that it was a mistake made by the writer. But always she sensed that they hid the truth and where ashamed to admit it, so she pursued it no further.

About the year 1974 TA. Léspheria returned with her family to Rivendell, in this year the North kingdom ended and the witch king over ran Arthedain and took Fornost. In this time many messengers passed between Rivendell and the Grey havens and the following year it was decided that Rivendell would send a force to aid in removing the witch king, from the northern lands. On the day that her father and brother were due to leave Léspheria had a premonition of their death in the form of a dream. She begged for them not to go, but they thought her dream no more than anxiety. Léspheria was not so convinced and against their wishes she followed the host north.

It was here that she found out her acute link to her brother, as a blow struck him she fell from her horse experiencing his pain, it was here too that her friendship with the Dunedain began. An Arnorian soldier seeing an elven woman in the battle came to her aid, she persuaded him to help her search for her brother, together they found Her father and brother both injured and with her expert healing skills she healed both, The man from who Amandur is descended faught off the enemy so that she could work unhindered. After the victourious battle Léspheria helped tend others that were injured in the battle.

After the battle of Fornost, under the instruction of Lord Elrond the Elves of Rivendell, taught the survivors of Arnor, the skills required to become rangers, in this time Léspheria too decided that she wished to learn these skills, so both her father and Brother taught her, they were surprised at how quickly she learned and how adaptable she could be. By the time rumours reach Rivendell of a power returned to Dol Guldur, Léspheria is now aiding the elves in the training of the Dunedain.

At about this time Lésperia's mother left Rivendell, and her Father finally tells both of them about Naiore, but not everything. He tells them only of her crimes but not of their relationship to this woman or of the friendship that their mother once shared with Naiore.

Lóthaniel later finds out that Naiore and their mother are cousins and that after Naiore disappeared from Belfalas, their mother helped to look for her fearing that some ill had befallen her. In this time she met their father and he agreed to help her search, but to no avail. Valaindon returned to Rivendell with Finderon. When Finderon returned from the Battle of Dagorlad he did not have the heart to tell Valaindon of what they saw and of the terror Naiore struck in their hearts, for he knew she would not believe it, he too wouldn't if he had not seen it with his own eyes. But after the disaster of the Gladden Fields all the elves learned of Naiores crimes, Valaindon refused to believe what she was told and rode often in search of her cousin, but all she found was a trail of heinous crimes. so she returned to Finderon and chose to live in denial. but of this Lothaniel says nothing to Léspheria.

In the time that Valaindon is away from her family she finds Naiore, not far from Lothlorien. Naiore reading her cousins thoughts pretends to have been tortured and used by Sauron and forced to do the treacherous things that she has done, knowing that her old friend would show pity on her. Valaindon thinking she was right all along about her friend, makes the mistake of not reading her cousins emotions. Valaindon meets secretly with Naiore (As her cousin feigns to be to afraid and ashamed to face her kin) and brings her news of Lothlorien, it is through Valaindon that she learns that Menecin still loves her and longs for her return, Naiore then slowly begins to draw secrets from her cousin regarding the defence of both Lothlorien and Rivendell. With the coming of Menecin to Rivendell, Valaindon realises she has been deceived and the pride of her kin engulfs her and in rage she relentlessly peruses Naiore who she finally sees as her enemy. the following year she losses the trail, but does not give up searching. She is eventually captured at the end of the year 3017 and is taken to Barad-dûr, where she again meets Naiore who takes great pains to torture her and break her elven spirit, but with the fall of Sauron she is forced to flee leaving Valaindon for dead in the pits of Barad-dûr. She is eventually found by Amandur and other Rangers that dared to enter the great fortress after the war.Of these events Léspheria knows only bits and pieces.

During this time she helps the Dunedain and later she protects the borders of Rivendell, In the year that her mother was captured to the day she died (the best part of a year) Léspheria fell into a fever from which none could cure. Léspheria experienced her mothers torture at the hands of Naiore, though she tells none of this, and only learns of her mothers torturer some years later.

After the war Lésperia's mothers body is brought back to Rivendell, in his grief their father goes with the ring bearers to Valinor, but Both Léspheria and her brother choose to remain. In the 2nd year of the fourth age Léspheria is asked by Lords Elladan and Elrohir, if she would consider becoming one of their emissaries between men and elves, to which she humbly excepted.

It was in this role that she found out the full extent of Naiores crimes, and that the council of King Elassar wished to bring her to justice. Their were a few elves who also wanted to see Naiore brought to justice, but Léspheria not wishing any kinslaying convinced the council of elves to allow King Elessar to bring Naiore to stand trial in Gondor.

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Nerindel's Post for Léspheria


The midday sun shone through the open stable doors as Léspheria finished packing her white elven mare. Turning towards the doors and shielding her sharp elven grey eyes, she watched the tall figure of her friend as he scanned the road beyond the courtyard. She recalled their first meeting, the young ranger had been sent to the halls of learning in Rivendell to meet with his new tutor, but on entering the halls and seeing only her he had winked mischeviously and asked if she knew were he could find the master of the halls. She managed a weak smile as she remembered Amandur's apparent embarrassment, as she informed him that she was to be his tutor.

He must have sensed her watching for at that moment he turn to face her, a warm smile playing on his lips. Léspheria kept her smile as she walked towards him, glad that the great war had not adversely effected him as much as it had so many others. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she told him,looking in the direction of the inn that had been her home for the past two weeks. She slowly drew her gaze from the inn and returned to Losseserme's stall, the mare snorted impatiently, as she let Léspheria lead her from the stall to the hitching post outside. Amandur joined her and together they made their way back to the inn.

(1)"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" The elven words slipped off her tongue before she realised that she had said them aloud. "Don't let it worry you, I promise you that I will look out for the young woman's well being as long as my task keeps me here!" Amandur reassured her. She nodded her thanks, glad that he had chosen to keep his watch for Naiore in the inn and not abandon it for her sake.

Amandur pushed open the dark wooden door and held it open for her, "I will wait for you out here!" she nodded and went inside alone. The common room of the forsaken inn was already busy and alive with conversations and the occasional burst of laughter, the dark corners held hastened whisperings and those wishing no other company than their own. Léspheria determinedly made her way to the bar were Fimbriel the auburn haired Rohirrim innkeeper was rushing backwards and forwards filling tankards for the many thirsty patrons, who had chosen to stop in and quench their thirst on this hot midsummer afternoon.

Léspheria raised her hand to catch the innkeepers attention, Fimbriel looked her way and signalled that she would be with her just as soon as she could, while she waited her eyes roamed around the room, The kitchen door swung on squeaky hinges as Rowana Brandybuck hurried back and forth bring lunch to the inn's hungry guests and Amarantha Willow weaved expertly around the tables mopping up spills and refilling empty jars. Léspheria suddenly felt a pang of guilt that she would be leaving when the inn was so obviously busy, But just then she again felt the pain in her left shoulder, reminding her that her brother needed her help more.

As she struggled to focus her mind so she could block out her brothers pain, she noticed something else. "Amarantha, has not Mrs banks or her exotic friend come down for lunch today" she asked gently grasping the young hobbit woman's arm as she passed. Amarantha quickly scanned the room, then shook her head "No! Miz Léspheria I have not seen either one all day, but it has been a might busy today" she shrugged apologetically. "Thank you Amarantha, Miss Nightshade did mention that she was planning to leave, maybe they left early." Amarantha nodded reassured and went back to her work. Léspheria was not so sure, but before she could think any more on this puzzle she heard someone speaking to her "And what can I do for you this fine afternoon" Fimbriel beamed as she brushed a few stray auburn hairs from her face.

"I am afraid that I must take my leave of your fine establishment, my brother is injured and I must go to him at once" Léspheria sadly told her. Fimbriel's smile faded and was replaced with a look of genuine concern "I'm sorry to hear that, of course you must go to your brother, is there anything I can do?" she asked sympathetically. "No, No, I have everything I need, I gave my room key to Vanwe and ask her to hold the room till my return, my journey requires haste, so many things had to be left behind." Fimbriel nodded, then the pair said their goodbyes.

As she left the inn she saw Amandur waiting next to her mount, he helped her up then taking her hand in his he whispered softly, " Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. She then turned Losseserme and set off at a slow trot until she came to the rear of the inn, she had decided that she would go south-west through the downs. She gently bent over and whispered into the mares ear, (2)"Vanne linte!" Losseserme then broke in to a fast gallop, they speed across the downs and did not stop till nightfall.

Under the eaves of a small wooded area not far from the Greenway Léspheria made her camp, after eating a meagre supper she lay down on her bed roll and looked up at the stars, The watcher as always twinkled brighter than the others and as she watched it she could not help thinking on the puzzles that the past three days had revealed to her. The first being the appearance of Vanwe who seemed to be a puzzle in herself, her face was that of a criminal who was much sought after by men and elf alike, but her deep blue sapphire eyes, revealed that she was the daughter of one who remained under the protection of her people. Vanwe had unknowingly revealed that they shared the same bloodline, confirming her suspicions that Naiore was the missing name in Finarfin's family tree, something that her brother and her kin had chosen to keep from her, although she could not yet figure out why?

Her thoughts then drifted back to the southern woman, Benia and her hobbit friend, Gilly and their lack of presence that morning, she only hoped that they had taken her advice and left the inn in secret, Both herself ,Vanwe and a ranger named Hanasian had tended Benia after a rather nasty fall, Vanwe had treated the womans sprained ankle, revealing to her that they also shared the gift of healing. She only had to reduce the swelling and bind it,Vanwe's raw talent was impressive. But on leaving the southern woman to her rest she had seen another ranger who had introduced himself to her earlier as Kaldir, he watched the room with great intent. The southern woman was not the only person that she sensed the ranger was interested in, later that same day she had caught him spying on Vanwe, which he denied when she confronted him, she had guessed that Vanwe would have often been mistaken for her mother and she had been determined that it would not happen again, not while she could prevent it!

Kaldir's lack of emotions had made her suspicious of his intent, but his words had revealed that she had been right to be concerned, "she resembles an acquaintance of mine from the South. I was curious to learn her name to determine if it was she. I was hesitant to approach her directly as the last time we met was under, how shall I say it? Less than optimal circumstances." Sudden pity had lead her to lower her sword and let his reasons pass, she realised that he was yet another victim of Naiore's malice. Strong emotions had surfaced unbidden as he spoke, ones revealing much pain and hatred, emotions that Léspheria feared to explore having felt them strongly through others. First in her own mother and then in Vanwe's father and now this ranger!

Léspheria slowly closed her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, the memories of the emotions she felt from all those who had encountered Naiore Dannan, plaguing even her dreams.


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1"Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" : "I am worried about Vanwe!"
2"Vanne linte!" : "Go swift!"

[piosenniel]

Nerindel's character - Amandur

NAME: Amandur II

AGE: 62 (as of midsummer of year 12 of the fourth age.)

RACE: Men (Dunedan)


GENDER: Male

WEAPONS : Amandur carries a numanorean long sword, an heirloom of his family. He also carries an elvish dagger, a small black handled belt knife (one of a pair, Léspheria has the other) and a crude bow, which he uses mainly for hunting.

APPEARANCE: Amandur is 6 ft 2 " in height and has a handsome but rugged look about him. His dark, almost black hair sits just below his jaw line. His Hazel eyes hold the wisdom of his age, he looks only to be in his early forties. His complexion is tanned due to weathering, he is sometimes clean shaven and sometimes not depending on circumstances, (ie in the wilds he sees no need to shave) Amandur has several battle scars, one across his left bicep another across his right leg and a small scar across the clef of his chin are all reminders of the battles of the Pelennor fields and the Morannon. The scar on his right leg sometimes bothers him in colder weather.

Amandur wears black leather pants, white/light grey shirts and dark grey /green tunics that bear the emblem of King Elessar. His high black boots are of supple leather and have seen much wear. He also has a cloak of a heavy dark-green cloth.

PERSONALITY: Although Hardened by war, Amandur managed to remain good hearted and kind. Among his friends and kin he is loyal, trustworthy and well liked, But to his enemies he is fierce, relentless and unforgiving. He tends to speak his mind and is not quick to trust. He has the qualities of being a great leader but prefers not to lead when possible, but like most great leaders this sometimes happens weather he will it or not.

STRENGTHS: Although proficient with a bow, he favours his sword and is very skilful in its use, both on foot or mounted, he has always had an natural ability with horses, his own in particular, the black charger comes when he whistles, and the horse always seems to anticipate his movements, before they are made. Amandur learnt much from the elves during his stay in Rivendell and has become wise in the way of the wilds. He also follows his instincts, but not at the cost of others.

WEAKNESSES: Amandur's weaknesses are his love for Léspheria and his growing over protectiveness of her. Also the scar on his leg is know to give him bother in colder weather or if hit or knocked in some way.

HISTORY: Amandur was born in the Grey Havens on the 31st day of Naríë in the year 2969 TA (1369 Shire reckoning). Amandur was the eldest son of Amandur I and Norvanna both Dunedain of the north and both Rangers, which in itself is unusual as usually only the men became rangers, but Amandur's mother was strong both in stature and will. Cirdan granted her protection in the grey havens when with child. Amundur and his younger brother Aldred spent their child hood in the Grey havens with their mother, their father visited as often as he could.

There was only two years between Amandur and his brother, so the pair grew up together in relative peace under the protection of Cirdan, they both shared a love of boats and a respect for the sea. Their mother and father (when present) took great pains to teach both their children the use of weapons, both brothers favoured the long sword. At the age of 20 Amandur's father took him to Rivendell to train under the tutelage of the Elves.

It is here that he first meets the elven twins Lóthaniel and Léspheria Denfëa. Lóthaniel teaches him the skills required to become a Ranger like his father and Léspheria teaches him of his ancestry and the history of his people. His brother joins him two years later and the four become firm friends. During one battle they shared (a wayward band of orcs making the mistake of leaving the safety of the misty mountains and entering Eriador) his Female elven companion was pressed by Four orcs and as he ran to her aid he thought her done for, but by the time he reached her, battling orcs of his own on the way the four orcs lay dead at her feet, It was then that he saw Léspheria in a new light, as she stood there breathing heavily, with her sword in one hand and a broken dagger in the other, he saw a strong, determined, beautiful but gentle elven woman that he knew from that moment he had lost his heart too. It was also at this battle that Amandur gave Léspheria one of his long twin belt knives, to replace her broken dagger.


About the year 3000 the Rangers guarded the Shire more closely at the request of the White Council and their chief Aragorn. Amandur, his brother and a few others were charged with Guarding Sarn ford, but on the evening of the 22nd day of Yavannie the Black riders drove them from the ford and four of the black riders pursued them eastward. They returned to Rivendell to tell Lord Elrond that the Riders are in the Shire.


Word soon came from Lothlorien that Aragorn required the aid of his kin, Halbarad, Elladan and Elrohir quickly gathered those who could be found and they headed south with all haste, it was here that the two Brothers were reunited with their father. After the hard journey south they were reunited with their chief and rode with the grey company through the paths of the dead and fought the Cosairs of Umbar at Pelargir, taking their ships. Amandur and his brother with their knowledge of sailing were charged with one of the great black masted ships and they sailed up the River to Harlond, to assail their enemy from the flank and rear, on the Pelennor Fields.

It was here that Amandur's Brother and father fell, he did not grieve his loss for he knew that they had both fought fiercely for something that they all believed in, instead he worried for his mother and how this news would affect her, Amandur received his arm and leg injury in this battle, while battling the fierce men of Harad. He tended and bound his own injuries and rode with his kin to the Black gates were he proved himself once more in battle.


After the fall of Sauron and the defeat of his dark army, Amandur remained in Minas Tirith, He was one of the few that dared to enter the great fortress to look for prisoners and any hidden enemies. It was here that he and a few other rangers found Valaindon (Léspheria's mother). She was close to death and they could do nothing for her, but before dying she bade him tell Léspheria that she was sorry, and to tell both her children to protect the gift, but before she could explain she passed away.

After the wedding of their chieftain and now King to the Lady Arwen of Rivendell, he rode with the elven host back to Rivendell bearing Valaindon's body and her final words, there he learnt that Léspheria had spent the whole year in a state of Fitful fever that no one could explain, but on the date that Amandur had watched Valaindon pass away she had miraculously recovered to full health, as though nothing had ailed her, but upon seeing her Amandur knew that what had ailed her would not ever completely leave her.

He Returned to the havens and brought his mother back to Gondor, but the following year she died from the grief of her loss. Amandur remained in the service of the king and was glad when he found out that Léspheria was to be an Emissary for Rivendell. On her visits they always found time to talk and take long walks. In his heart he greatly desired to return north, so when King Elessar asked for people to go north and re-establish the northern city of Annúminas, he was one of the first to Volunteer.

His Knowledge of Naiore was gained from Lóthaniel and the courts of Gondor were she was listed as one of Saurons minions that had not fallen at her masters defeat and was still at large. There were many who sought this woman and from what Lothaniel had told him of this Elf he was in no hurry to meet her, but if called upon to find her he would.

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Nerindel's post for Amandur

Amandur stood at the door to the stables of the Forsaken inn scanning the area just beyond, Léspheria's hesitation before entering the stables had lead him to believe that she had sensed something or someone in the wooded area surrounding the inn. It might be only an animal or another guest, but considering the nature of his quarry and Léspheria's abillities he thought it best to be mindful. 'Once Léspheria has left I will take a better look' he thought to himself, sighing as he realised that he would not be going with her. 'she had been right, the kings rangers may have put the young elf woman's life in danger by following her trail, in the hopes that she would lead them to her mother, and he now felt that it would be wrong to leave the young woman to such a fate, even if he felt that Vanwe may prove a problem later on.

He knew not how the elf woman felt about her mother, he knew she looked for her, but for what reason he knew not. Would she protect her mother regardless of her crimes? blinded in much the same way as Menecin, by love or the hunger of it from a mother who abandoned her. Yes! that may be it, Vanwe's longing for motherly love may be why she is looking for her. Interesting, but it may indeed prove problematic when it comes to capturing Naiore.

Amandur then felt Léspheria's gaze on his back, he turned towards her smiling warmly. "I am almost ready to leave, all that is left for me to do is to inform the good lady innkeeper of my departure," she smiled as she walked towards him. Although she smiled he could still hear sadness in her words as she gaze in the direction of the inn. He then watched as she lead her horse from the stable to the hitching post outside the inn. He followed her quietly. "Amin dele ten'Vanwe!" Léspheria said quietly. Amandur stopped and looked at her, it was not often that she used her own language when not among her own kin. Seeing her obvious concern he promised that he would look out for Vanwe's well being, while he could. She seemed reassured by his words, so he gently opened the inn door for her, "I will wait for you out here!" he said wishing to keep his watch. She nodded and went inside.

Amandur wandered back over to the hitching post and casually leaning on it he continued his watch, thinking about the events of the past month as he did. It was now a month since he received word from King Elessar that the criminal Naiore Dannan had been see heading north. Elessar had requested that he travel to the inn and meet the elf ranger Lóthaniel Denfëa, who would tell him more. He had actually met Lóthaniel just outside Bree about two weeks later, His old friend had been glad to see him and told him everything he and the other rangers had learnt, the discovery that Naiore had a daughter and their belief that this daughter would lead then to the illusive Naiore. Lóthaniel had then explained that he had other business to attend to and would not be accompanying him to the Forsaken inn. Lóthaniel spoke at length about his families connection with Naiore and how Léspheria knew only little, He had been taken aback by the fact that they had kept this information from her, and had argued that she should be told, Lóthaniel had disagreed, he feared that the same fate that befell their mother would also befall his sister. He had reluctantly agreed not to say anything to Léspheria, but he strongly believed that she would eventually find these things out for herself and he had told Lóthaniel so!

The Kings orders were to capture Naiore and bring her to Minas Tirith for trail, there was also a bounty but Amandur was not interested in such things, he wanted only to see this criminal brought to justice. So after leaving Lothaniel he had went straight to the vicinity of the inn. He had made camp just beyond the wooded area that surrounding the inn and for the past two weeks he had been watching it and waiting to see if Naiore appeared, but nothing had he seen or heard of her in that time. The message from the King had also said that there was other rangers in the pursuit of this elf, but he had seen none that he knew until the previous night, when he had observed his good friend Hanasían lying under the stars with Vanwe. he had wondered if Hanasian was one of these rangers, he hoped so. The next morning when he had seen Hanasian leaving the inn, he had intended to stop him and find out if what he hoped was indeed true. But he heard a scream that he had immediately recognised as Léspheria's and his concern for the elven lady had lead him into the inn to see if she was all right.

Before he could finish his thoughts Léspheria emerged from the inn, he helped her onto her horse then gently taking her hands he bade her "Ride swiftly and be careful!" "As always!" she assured him. He watched her until she was out of sight then he wandered over to the tree's to see if he could find out what Léspheria had sensed, he found disturbed earth and broken twigs, but they could have been caused by anyone, he was just about to give up his search when he heard something! He crouched down behind one of the tree's and watched as the tall figure of the ranger who had help him to take Léspheria to her room after her fall that morning, emerged from the trees nearest the stables, as Lothaniel looked at the good side of the rangers scared face he was sure that he knew this ranger from somewhere, but he could not think where! He watched as the Ranger entered the inn, then he got up and sighed "Well Amandur there is nothing here!" he then walked back towards the inn. He stopped just before the stables and gave a long sharp whistle, the Stablemaster gave him a curious look. But after just a few minutes a tall black charger emerged from the forest, halting right infront of him. "He is beautiful ," the stable master whistled. "Yes, he is" Amandur laughed patting his old friends neck, " I would think that he is in need of fresh hay and something to drink," he chortled handing the reigns over to the bearded man. "I will see to it right away!" the man smiled leading the charger into an empty stall.

Amandur then realised that he too had not eaten all day, so he headed towards the inn to see if he could gain some supper and maybe even a room. "The whispered conversations may even reveal some new clues" he chuckled to himself.

[piosenniel]

Snowdog's character - Hanasian

NAME: Hanasían

AGE: 39 Born the first day of Víressë, year 2990 of the Stewards Reckoning. (1390 Shire Reckoning)

RACE: Men, Father's line - Dúnedain of the North
Mother's line - Rohirrim

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword of Westernesse, Rohirric bow, an Elven knife and a Knife of Khand.

APPEARANCE: Rugged stature, and seemingly worn for his years. Long hair that is seemingly dark but has a sandy, lighter look in sunlight. Its length is to his lower back, sometimes tied into a tail, sometimes not. Of average height as far as Dúnedain go, around 6 feet and well built about 200 Lb., and is well built from the many years of training, then battle. Wears dark-gray rough leather pants and sleeveless vest and black worn leather boots. He has an Elven cloak he uses, but at times wears one of local custom. A scar he has on the right side of his throat where he was wounded in the Battle of Pelennor Fields.

PERSONALITY: Hanasían is usually rather quiet, but says what he means when he does speak. He handles a horse well, and is an excellent bowman from a mount as well as standing. He could move with great stealth for a man and was hardened by what he had seen and done before, during, and after the war.

STRENGTHS:He handles a horse well, and is an excellent bowman from a mount as well as standing. He could move with great stealth for a man having learned much from the sons of Elrond and he could battle well with knife and sword. He had a good tactical mind, was not afraid to take chances as long as it didn't endanger any save himself.

WEAKNESSES:Hanasían liked to drink and carouse and was sometimes seen in the less desirable places as a depression overtook him since his wound in the war. There was rumor that the blade of the Variag that almost had his head was tainted with some exotic herb unknown in the west, but his strength of mind usually kept his depression at bay. His somewhat shaded activities when on his own time were never harmful to others and was his way of dealing with himself and all he had experienced.

HISTORY: Born in the wild near Lake Evendim in the year TA 2990 (1390 Shire Reckoning) He was the second of three children of Halasían, Ranger of the North, and Lady Forcwyn of Rohan. His brother was much older than he, and he would not meet him until the battle of the Corsairs in the War of the Ring. His younger sister was born a year and a half after he, and there was hope that his father and mother would heal many wounds between each other in those days. But the darkness that held Halasían did not let go of him, but was only asleep for a time. One day he came back from hunting with worry on him, and he gathered what little they had and made their way to Rivendell, where Halasían sent his wife and two children forth, and was never seen again. Hanasían was raised in Rivendell for a time, for though Forcwyn desired to return to her people in Rohan, travel was perilous, and she stayed until Hanasían was nine. He learned horsemen skill from her kin in Rohan, and returned again to Rivendell some years later to study and learn the arts of the Elves and train. After a couple of years he started to ride with the Rangers, though at a fairly young age, for the times were ever darkening. He learned much skill from the Rangers, of which many of the elder ones knew his father, and he also refined the arts of the bowmanship he first learned in Rohan, and the skills of silent movement from Helladin, an elf friend from Rivendell. These skills made him pretty good at covert ops before, during, and after the war and unlike his father, he was relatively good hearted. Having rode with the Grey Company in the war, and having assisted Rohan during the battles of the Isen before meeting up once again with Halbarad and the Rangers riding south, he proved himself time and again in battle, and was always taking the initiative to scout out ahead.

In the war, he met his older brother who worked the ships in Befalas, and together they battled and sailed the ships up the Anduin and did battle upon the Pellenor Fields. It was here his brother Hayna was slain, not far from where Halbarad fell, and Hanasíian was himself wounded and thought dead. But he was discovered after the battle trying to stand, and he was taken to the house of Healing in Minas Tirith.

He recovered from his wounds and attended the high functions and weddings of The Chieftain and now King Aragorn and Arwen, and also that of Faramir and Eowyn, whom he got to know during the days of healing. Though a seeming depression had come over him that those close to him could feel, he wished to stay in the King's service and he remained in Gondor with King Elessar. He would often visit his mother and little sister in Rohan. He could see the years gain on his mother quickly after the war, she having grieved the death of her firstborn and never quite was the same. He wished not to burden her anymore and so started to visit less and less. But he still found satisfaction tending to the King and the Steward and business of the realm, and would partake in missions long into the freed lands of Rhun, Khand, and Harad, but also north to Dale and west to his home in Eriador, for he sought always the remnants of lingering evil wherever it may be. It was during this time while investigating an incident in Rohan near his mother's did he first find knowledge of Naiore, and began to pursue her through the lands.

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Snowdog's post for Hanasian:

It was a cool, cloudy night when I approached Bree, and though I had made good time from the Forsaken, something bothered me in my leaving that place. For there was Vanwe, admitting to be Naiore’s daughter right there before me, and the long night of words filled me with an intensity that said to my bones that she was near . . . very near . . .

I decided to encamp just north of the road in the thick growth of the Chetwood, not far from the gates of Bree. For surely my arrival will be more welcome at the first light of day than at the deeps of the starless night. I unlimbered Blackveil and let her wander as she does, always staying close it seemed when we were out in the wilds. Though it were not so here near the city, for the King’s men had long since made travel from Bree to Rivendell safe, there still was the old cautions among many of the order of Gatekeepers of Bree. And yet, as always, Blackveil was my eyes and ears as I rested. But tonight’s sleep was not that restful... for I drifted into dream...

It was Year 5 of the return of the King, and two shabby Rangers, me and Farasan of Ithilien, were on the move in Dorwinion, silently acting upon a tip. The lands were still barren but new signs of life were blooming in the spring as fresh vineyards were planted in the year after the War. The rain was hard and on the third straight day, and we approached the small house silently in the sounds of the storm. Farasan had become a good friend of mine since the war, having slain that ratty little orc that had keyed me with a poisoned arrow and was about to shoot. But Farasan’s movement was not quick enough to kick the raging Variag who charged in upon me, and I turned his blade with my own. But I did not see his other blade, the short black one that bit into my side. It glanced off a rib after penetrating the leather vest and fell to the ground as I slashed at him, but the wound weakened me and I fell. Farasan had turned to face more raging men of Khand and did not see me fall, but later he found me in the aftermath as I tried to stand. Farasan had served long in Ithilien under Captain Faramir, and was not too pleased to be caught in the White City running a message when the war closed in on him. He was newly married then, and surely Faramir had this in mind when he gave him the order. A good man Farasan was and a great fighter, and our friendship began that day of meeting on the battlefield, brothers-in-arms. Yes, a good man he was, though his mind did wander to his wife and young child now, living anew in the fair woods of Ithilien.... He should not have been on this mission....

... Ready to make a move, for there was little movement in the house, and in hopes we had Khazûl, Naiore, and Varicar, three of what we called the Remaining, inside. A cadre of ten archers of Ithilien were about the house ready to shoot, and were in waiting in the darkness. Surely none would get away alive. The kid from the winery was sure they would be here, and through the day as the house was watched, it appeared he was right.... but still there was that shadow of doubt inside....

...The door burst into splinters at the kick of my foot, and likewise the back door from Farasan’s foot, and in we rushed. Varicar lay dead in seconds as Farasan’ sword fell upon his neck, and Khazûl jumped up before me in surprise. I stepped toward him, but he charged hard... harder than I expected. Little did I know that Naiore was behind the huge former Easterling army commander, and as he stumbled into my sword, skewering himself and pushing me back into the doorframe, Naiore turned and let fly a knife toward the charging Farasan. Deflecting it with his sword, he saw not the second knife Naiore pulled from Khazûl’s belt, and she buried it deep into his throat. I stood in pain and anger after pushing the dying Khazûl from me, and letting fly the Variag knife at the fleeing Naiore, it took hair from her and embedding into the doorpost as she fled over the top of the dying Farasan. It was almost instantly that I heard arrows slamming into the house as the archers tried to take down the fleeing Naiore, and I would have pursued her if I thought I wouldn’t be mistaken in the driving rain. But I paused and knelt by Farasan, pinching the knife in his neck in hopes of stopping the bleeding. But it was to no avail as he gasped his last words to me...

... I rode slowly, another horse in tow, and the spring gardens of Ithilien were in bloom. I came to the stately home of Farasan, and I stopped and dismounted as Hannah emerged in smiles... smiles for the return of her husband... her husband had returned to her, but not as she wished him to...and I thought of Naiore, his slayer as she eluded the arrows in that dark, rainy night. Maybe I blamed myself for his death? But the thought was interrupted by the sound of that laugh.. the same one I heard seconds before I blew in that door...

I jumped awake in a sweat! Standing and shaking, seeing the face of Hannah change from pure joy to pure sorrow... my side ached where I was wounded in the war, probably some from laying upon that wily pinecone, probably some from the memory of the war... I quickly looked about in watch as was custom of Rangers to see if danger was near, and seeing I was outside the gates of Bree as the sun colored the straggling clouds over the Misty Mountains pink I turned to Blackveil who wandered up nearby.

‘Ready to go girl? They will want to stable you in the city. Maybe I will walk from here and meet you tonight when I return?’

Her nudge of my shoulder was partly in check for my sanity after my troubled sleep, and partly in thankfulness of my not taking her into a city. That stable by Laketown suffered much from her temporary confinement. With a swish of her tail she was off into the trees, and I cached my belongings I would not need in town.

The town of Bree was a nice place, though tales and rumors were rampant there. A tip from Bree was not worth its cost in ale to get it, for it would be a yarn spilled from a local or a visitor from the Shire, but if one looked at those who came and went from other parts, there could be some information gleaned. I knocked upon the South Gate just as the sun peeked its way over the distant horizon and below the clouds. The seemingly eerie golden light spread about Bree Hill as the keeper opened the gate. Yes, friendlier times it was in these years of the King, for it was only at the whim of the gatekeeper if he wanted to open the facedoor to ask of business. It was not uncommon these days for them to open the gate right off.

"Good morning sir" He said with a tired smile. He was the morning gateman, and was still waking up. A voice behind him asked me,

"What is your business so early?"

‘I am here for the day, to re-supply and rest.’

I didn’t like his demeanor as he was a bit grumpy. But then he was just off his night watch at the gate.

"Hanasian I know you better than that. You come to smoke and drink and gamble, and maybe..."

‘No, I am here as I said, for I will be on my way ere you work again. But maybe you could tell me something.’

He looked at me with a half smile and said, "What?"

I looked around and then said,

‘Maybe you could tell me where the Nightshades could be found?’

He was silent, but as we walked the road together he said,

"Sure, one of the boys does smithing. Has a place just a thousand feet south of the Pony by the draw in the hill."

I thanked him as he turned for his house, a yawn slid out as he waved goodbye, for he would go to find sleep, the nocturnal type he was.

I walked the road toward the Pony, and people tall and small were beginning to stir this fine summer’s day. I nodded to a few though most ignored me, and it was soon I was before a smiths shop.

‘Hail sir Nightshade?" I said to the young man who was stoking the fire of his forge. He looked up at me and straightened.

"That be me." he said, though he looked suspicious at me for knowing his family name.

‘I bring word from one who claims kinship. She stays at the Forsaken and goes by the name of Benia...’

And elder man had come out of the house when he heard his son talking, and he said gruffly,

"Spawn of Jacks I reckon. Word was a comin’ for I felt it. What is she to you? One who caught your fancy for a night?"

I was taken aback somewhat by his words, but replied respectfully,

‘She is one who sings beautifully, as a nightingale upon the quiet waters Mirromere. She wanted word to be brought to her kin that she was delayed in arriving. I assume you were expecting her?’

He crinkled his face and turned away from me. "Maybe, but why did you not escort her then?"

‘It was not her wish.’ I replied, sensing all was not well between the lines of the family. I went on, ‘She has word of one of her mothers kin, and said you, of her father’s kin could get word to them.'

He turned and said,

"You delivered word, and I thank you for my part. Will there be anything my son can help you with??"

He was eyeing the exotic black knife on my belt, the one which wounded me in the fields of Pellenor. I could see this getting colder, so I turned and said,

‘No, just delivering the message as requested.’

I needed something to drink! it was too early for ale, but the tea from the Pony smelled good. I stopped in for a hearty breakfast and tea, and then to the mercantile to trade and barter for some good parchment paper and inks and quills, and other goods. Surely I would relax a bit, then I would be back on my way to the Forsaken. Yes, leaving was not the thing to do, but for this instant when I saw a dark, wild looking fellow who I had intentions to meet. He came to trade away some vegetables he had grown, and I could tell he was nervous. He was from Dunland, for I had met him before, and by the passed word of the wanderers toward the Forsaken, he had let me know he had knowledge.

I slipped him some of the pipeweed I had aquired and he looked at it, and after taking it he looked about and then to me, whispering,

"I have seen her! The one you seek!"

I looked at him with a doubtful gaze, for many have told me this, and many times they were close, but never on the mark like that night in Dorwinion. He leaned toward me and said,

"Near Tharbad where they are re-building the great bridge, the river is a hard cross, and one so sought by the Kings men such as she could not ford by the city. She crossed Dunland by my fields! I was near the River Greyflood when she swam it! About ten miles west of the city! It is low since the warm spring melted the snows, and the rain has been little but for the one summer storm."

I looked at the wall. Yes, she stirred it up in Rohan quite a bit, always seem to get clues of her there. I decided his information was worthy for the most part, and gave him the rest of the pipeweed. It was the wild stuff from Rhun, and I would keep the Farthing smoke I just got. He was happy and I went outside to sit and smoke. It had to be Naiore, from what he said, and her movements were usually concealed well. But sometimes poor farmers are not seen, or not thought of as being woprthy of having to be concealed from. For even one as wily as Naiore must weary of hiding her every move. But where would she go? Could she be here in Bree? Try to infiltrate the Shire? No, would stick out sorely among the Halflings...

I lay against a tree trunk and smoked and thought, writing again parts of what I called the Annals of the Dúnedain Rangers, when thoughts again drifted to my dream of the morning and then to that day... my hand dug out of my pocket a leather pouch, one not much different from the one he had of Vanwe’s. I opened it and let slip out of it the lock of hair. The hair my knife took that fateful night... I was not thinking the other night or I would have given some of this hair to Vanwe, since she sought her mother.... That was it! Maybe Naiore sought her daughter? Hanasían, you old mossbrain! Surely she was making for the Forsaken, for she must of had word of her daughter! Besides, why linger here when I could see again Lady Benia Nightshade and hear her sing once again? But Vanwe was the key . . . and I am here...

I stood and stashed away my pipe, parchment, quill, ink, and the pouch with Naiore's hair and made way for the south gate. Blackveil will be grazing, but would know to come at my call when I retrieve my cached gear. I had to make time back to the Forsaken, and it was still morning, I could make it back by nightfall.

I was silent as I rode, Blackveil could sense my urgency. I rode through the day as the sun westered, and a stiff westerly wind drove the air about me cooler, pushing the warm southern summer air back. A squall line of clouds built high in the sun, and their dark undersides belched streaks of rain and an occasional lightning bolt as the differing airs danced up their storm. My thoughts turned to Vanwe and the talk we had of Naiore. How could I tell her that her mother slew such a good friend, leaving a child fatherless and a mother widowed? Did she already know? She will learn of Naiore’s ways, soon enough. I approached the Inn as the sun dropped below the horizon, turning the lands an eerie dark, with the tall clouds sunlit still in the east....

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

[piosenniel]

Hilde Bracegirdle's character - Gilly

NAME: Gilly Burrows Banks

AGE: 45

RACE: Hobbit

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Gilly has a knife, which she views as a tool rather than a weapon. At need she is more likely to impress the mundane objects around her to serve as weapons than to remember it’s existence.

APPEARANCE: Gilly is a middle aged and middle class hobbit as is reflected by her appearance. She is of average height and sturdy mature figure, though by no means overweight. The long braid of her wavy light brown hair is shot through with gray and tied in a knot at the back of her neck, curling wisps framing her broad face and dark brown eyes. She wears a simple homespun white blouse under a long dress of coarse dark green stuff that is edged with her own tatting work. At her waist is a wide belt of brown leather and around her shoulders a loosely woven shawl of varying shades of brown and tan knobby wool.

PERSONALITY: Gilly is a peaceful, practical sort. Her joy in life is maintaining a pleasant well-managed household and so she is typically trying to smooth out rough patches and looking for a better way of doing things. She has a narrow set of friends mostly in her own neighborhood, and while it takes time to win her confidence once you have it she is a devoted and loyal friend. Gilly is governed by a strong set of principles and is known to cast reason aside to do what she feels is honorable and right. She is quick to smile and has a sense of humor.

STRENGTHS: Her strengths lie in her perseverance and kind heart.

WEAKNESSES: It is her weakness to be overly suspicious, and to act before thinking things through to their logical end.

HISTORY: Gilly comes from the Burrows family of Bywater and spent a happily uneventful childhood on the family’s farmstead outside the town proper.


When she was in her tweens she had stumbled upon the plight of Jack Nightshade and his small family. Convincing her parents of their need, the Nightshades had been the Burrows’ guests for sometime before moving secretly onward. During this time a strong friendship had formed between Jack Nightshade’s daughter Benia and the hobbit, Gilly; and Gilly had in turn became aware of the troubled world outside of the Shire.


Immediately preceding the war, Gilly was married to Carl Banks, an oil merchant from Bywater and moved into his small living quarters just over the room housing his oil press. They lead a peaceful life until the war brought grief to the Shire and the young Banks’ business was burned down as a result of an “accident” involving Sharkey’s men. Gilly and Carl then had moved in with Carl’s parents.


Carl took part in the Battle of Bywater as a guard at the barrier on the road to Hobbiton, a point of pride for Gilly.


After the war the young Banks’ slowly rebuilt the business and were blest with 3 children. Life had settled into the comfortable pattern of domestic turmoil when a letter from Benia arrived asking Gilly if she would be willing to travel beyond Bree for a time to visit her old friend. A bit taken back at the mention of The Forsaken Inn, Carl and Gilly responded in a positive matter on the condition that Miss Nightshade would watch over her friend in Carl’s absence. It was then planned that Carl would accompany his wife to the inn and leave her there for a week while he visited some distant cousins in Archet. The children would in turn be visiting their Grandmother Banks. At the very most, they planned to return to Bywater within three weeks.

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Hilde Bracegirdle's post for Gilly

(note: to follow Benia's immediately)

Eyes narrowed, trying to pierce the evening gloom, Gilly came to a stop behind the thick trunk of an ancient and sickly tree, it’s dark leafless branches uplifted, casting a claw like silhouette against the sky. The hobbit shuddered involuntarily in the cool dew-laden air. At the edge of the village sparse trees, disfigured by a seemingly desperate search for firewood grew among the derelict buildings, reminding Gilly of the refuse left on the shore after a great
storm. Disagreeable confusion. It reflected her own weary state of mind.

Before Gilly the object of her attention, Kaldir, an ominous presence in the rising mist, walked purposefully through the darkness, disappearing into the shadow. A flood of panic swept the hobbit along as she swiftly ran to follow this quarry. She could not afford to lose sight of Kaldir. He was her best chance at finding Miss Nightshade. Her only chance quite likely. And she must find her. Quite foolishly she had not told anyone as of Miss Benia disappearance last evening. It had been her wish to have gained Miss Léspheria’s council, but seeing her in such distress in the morning she was fearful that Miss Benia’s assailant might have attacked her as well, and did not wish to bring her further suffering. So she alone tried to piece together what exactly had transpired. It was obvious to her that it had not been the lady’s own volition that had taken her out of the window at the inn, but rather a man or less likely an elf that had forced her to take this undignified exit.

Who this person could be was a matter Gilly had pondered tirelessly, coming up with two suspects and one possible accomplice. The chief suspect was the man she followed, a ranger with a rather menacing disposition, who had lately arrived at the inn disrupting the calm of Miss Benia and Gilly’s visit rather much like a horse stepping in a still puddle. Nothing was clear. Their ease was taken from them completely when he had unceremoniously posted himself by the stair leading to the quarters Benia and Gilly shared. And he had been possessed of a stealthy sort of aggression and a confidence that the hobbit found most convincing. But this morning, when she found that Miss Benia had disappeared in the night, Gilly was dumbfounded to find Kaldir still about the inn aiding the elf Léspheria. It just didn’t fit. If not Kaldir then who would have done such a thing?

The other figure who featured in Gilly’s internal debate was Hanasian, another ranger who had come to Benia’s assistance when she was injured while seeking the sanctuary of her room, away from Kaldir. Though initially wary of any ranger, Gilly found herself weakening in her resolve regarding Mr. Hanasian’s case. But then, had she not seen him speaking late last evening with the strange southerner Vanwe, and quite close to Benia’s open window? She perhaps, would have heard of the price for bringing down a member of the Painted Sand tribe. Then again, all these three might be in league with one another. After all Hanasian apparently was on familiar terms with Kaldir. Or then again it could be someone Gilly had not spotted. She began to feel dizzy again, faint with hunger and weary of the circle her mind was describing.

Gilly’s thoughts turned outward once more as Kaldir passed through the door of one of the abandoned structures. She heard a low metallic scrape as a bolt was drawn and wondered if Benia might indeed be found alive in this very building. But perhaps it was the nest of thieves. She must be cautious.

After a pausing a few moments Gilly followed Kaldir over the threshold, desperately hoping that the ranger wasn’t poised just inside the door, waiting for her. A deep voice faintly could be heard beyond a heavy wooden door. And there, A female voice!

Planting herself in the deepest of shadows in the empty room, Gilly began her vigil, knowing herself no match for a ranger, she must needs wait until he departed again before she could effect Benia’s release.

Thinking back over the last few weeks, it seemed ages since Gilly received the letters that initially disrupted her otherwise peaceful existence. The first being from her sister-in-law the contents of which in effect was politely discerning if her family could move in with Gilly’s while relocating back to Bywater. Sylvia had been of the growing opinion that Brandy Hall was no place to bring up children and if hers were to be taken as examples of that region’s youth Gilly was inclined to agree. And the vague reference in regard to the purposed end of their stay she had found quite trying.

And again, the very next day the postman had delivered a second letter addressed in a rather flowing decorative script. This from Miss Benia Nightshade. Gilly had fondly recalled the slight, kindhearted lass with large amber eyes. She had had no word from her since the days before the war and slowly had come to fear the worst had happened to the dear girl and her family. They had been like green leaves blowing about before the wind in those pre war days, just one step ahead of the storm brewing in Harad. Indeed that is how they had become acquainted, Gilly pleading their case to her father until he agreed to shelter them on his small farm until the danger of their southern pursuers had past. But that chapter had long since been closed. Miss Benia had grown to be a fine woman albeit to Gilly’s mind a bit outlandish to set eyes upon. Still she had her father’s wit and fortitude alongside her mother’s appearance, and it proved a pleasant combination.

In her letter Miss Nightshade had relayed that she would be in the area near Bree and would like to see Gilly again if Gilly could manage to find her way there. She would be staying at the Forsaken Inn. The hobbit in hindsight regretted ignoring the misgivings she had upon reading the name of the inn, but at the time she had feared bed bugs and stale toast rather than the exploits of bounty hunters such as the one she now found herself trailing. (That had changed quickly upon her arrival). And at the time she was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Miss Benia again, so much so as to press her husband Carl to agree to the journey.

Carl had accompanied Gilly as far as the inn before turning toward Archet to stay with distant cousins. He had arranged to meet Gilly in a few days time for the return trip home. Meanwhile, Miss Nightshade had promised to keep a watchful eye on her friend, keeping her out of mischief. Never before had she seen the Brandywine let alone crossed over the Greenway, and the hobbit felt herself ill at ease as well as excited. Accordingly, she had had a sense of apprehension even amidst her marveling at the sights and curious ways of her fellow guests, some few of which brought to mind once again the ill treatment she and Carl had received at the hands of Sharkey’s men, and was rather sad to learn that Benia’s troubles had not ceased after the war….

Gilly woke suddenly to the sound of footsteps ascending the stair. She couldn’t have been asleep over long for it was still mercifully dark in the room. Of this Gilly was grateful, for at the door there soon appeared Kaldir’s dark form hurriedly shooting the bolt home before stepping outside and across the road. The hobbit sat silently counting to what she thought was a large number before allowing herself to race to the cellar door. Heart racing as she unlocked the door, Gilly found it an awkward task descending the steep stairs with Jack Nightshade’s sword strapped to her back, and stumbling down the last few she called, “Miss Benia! Miss Benia, are you here?”

“Yes Gilly, I am. Just over here my friend, see here in the corner,” came a soft reply. “But you should not have come to visit me today. Carl would not be pleased to hear that I had taken you to such a place as this!” Benia gave a dispirited smile. “You must go directly, for I assure you the ranger will not be long gone!”

“Oh no Miss Nightshade, I will not go. I mean to get you out of here. Ach, now who would go and tie you up like this? As if you would be causing harm to anyone!” Gilly came forward to free Benia using a small knife, but her friend stopped her and looked her in the eye.

“Gilly, please listen! You must go now. Kaldir will be back and we will both be trussed up like this before we have gone a mile if we leave now. If you truly wish to help me, go back to the inn and gather my things bringing them here. I will need my boots to travel any distance quickly, and a think we shall gain a good lead if we wait until the ranger goes to fetch his horse as he plans tomorrow.”

“Then I will do as you ask, but please take my knife while I am away. I would feel better for your having it.” She paused thinking the plan through. “Am I to go with you then?”

“I won’t have you stay here, for Kaldir to toy with!”

“Then I suggest we head for Archet, Carl is there and will be able to help us.”

“Very well, just hurry and be careful.”

Gilly made her way up the stairs again, bolting the door behind her before slipping out into the night. She fairly ran to the inn, climbing the vines to enter Benia’s room though the open window. Collecting the few things her friend had left, she put her meager handful of pocket money on the table hoping that it might cover the cost of their stay, before throwing the rucksack out the window and climbing down after it.

Soon Miss Benia would be safe again, and she and Carl would be on her way back to Bywater. Very soon this would be only an unpleasant memory, but it could not be soon enough for the tired hobbit.

[piosenniel]

OPENING POST FOR THE GAME

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Elora - Opening post for Game

The Fouth Age was filled with both promise and uncertainty when it first began. Much of the familiar past had left Middle-earth’s shores, never to return. Some lamented the past at its departure. Much beauty, wisdom, strength and courage passed with the Wise whom set out for the undying lands from the Grey Havens. Some filled their spirits in the space the Wise left behind, looking forward to a new future that they would help shape. Some were eager to forget the past. Great evil had fallen at great cost. The shadow would be shaken, but it would take time.

And there were some who sought to cling to that past, the dark as well as the bright.

Middle-earth was gripped by renewal as the Age of Men came. Towns were rebuilt, lands settled after long abandonment enforced by Sauron. Change is never easy. Realms were forged anew. Gondor had a King and Queen after so long without. New grass sprouted green on the scorched fields of Pelennor with the Spring. Order spread out from the seats of mortal power. Osgiliath was slowly cleansed. Minas Ithil, forever tainted by Mordor’s occupation, was sadly and reverently taken down and laid to rest.

Orthanc regained it’s splendor, as did Minas Tirith and Meduseld. The Shire, shaken to the core, slowly settled back into peace. Yet nothing was as it once had been. The past remained as it was – past. The changes and marks of the cataclysmic war could not be entirely blurred by new growth and optimism. Lothlorien lay still and empty, now as immersed in the stream of time as the lands around it. Mirkwood turned inward. Dol Guldur was dismantled. Imladris, where those who had not departed mortal shores lingered, became more remote than ever before. The King’s protection of the Shire ensured no Big Folk found their way into at least that corner. Discontent bubbled in Umbar, Harad and Rhun still.

The future was not entirely certain, nor becalmed. The people across the lands wished for peace and forgetfulness. Celeborn, along with the new kings Elessar and Eomer, put their full backing behind cementing the new peace and order within the land. Orcs that teemed in the Misty Mountains and infested Mordor still had to be seen to. They were not the only darkness that lingered behind in Sauron’s wake. His net had been cast wide and those in his service were many. Saurman was not the strangest bedfellow afterall.

With the Rangers, the Elves, the Riddermark and Gondor now largely unopposed, optimism was high that that which remained could soon be put to final rest. Dwarves slowly spread their influence through the Misty Mountains. Orc, goblin and troll numbers dwindled. They had no benefactor now. Mordor was a land where the full force and weight of Gondor rested over. Pit after pit of horror and evil was thrown open and cracked like an overripe melon. It split beneath the force, and slowly melted away.

The discontent further south proved more difficult to overcome. There was another thing that proved stubborn. Not all had been done when the Wise left. Behind them, entrusted to those that remained, was another task. Justice had not come to all. Of all allies of Mordor that somehow escaped destruction, one of the chiefest remained at large. Enigma, riddle, aberration, her name was Naiore Dannan and she could not be permitted to continue.

The Wise reluctantly disclosed what little they knew of Naiore Dannan. Elf, she was, and in the service of Sauron she had been since the Second Age. Kin to Galadriel, little else was to hand apart from one inescapable fact. Naiore Dannan remained at large and continued to elude capture. Alive with her was a malevolence of intent too strong to allow to continue. The hunt for Naiore Dannan continued to little avail. It crossed borders into lands known and otherwise. It reached after her, finding shred of trace every now and anon. After 12 years of the Fourth Age, the search came as did she to an inn.

Here is set down the final telling of this sad tale. At the Forsaken Inn, a day’s ride from Bree on the edge of the Wild, it took the unlikeliest gathering of all to begin what could not be done in a hunt that had stretched through two ages. There is found Lespheria and Amandur, Elf and Ranger in turn and both tied to Naiore in vastly different ways. Benia, a woman from the troubled south, lies in the keeping of another troubled soul named Kaldir, a Ranger too but fallen in the darkness. He watches, intent on quarry who has on her head a handsome price. His quarry is Vanwe, unclaimed and heretonow forgotten daughter of Naiore Dannan, a secret she closely guards for fear of her mother's evil falling upon her and those around her.

Yet the hunter and the hunted can be one and the same. Kaldir himself is watched, by Gilly whom suspects Kaldir in Benia’s disappearance. The hobbit is not easily triffled with. Neither is Hanasian, a Ranger like Kaldir, let not fallen. He nears the inn as another watcher of Kaldir waits nearby. On her head is the highest price ever set, by Dwarf, Man or Elf. On her head rests also such attrocities that would give even the Wraiths pause for regret deep in their undead souls. In Imladris, one who has felt and survived her shadow lingers also in the watchful keeping of his Elven kindred.

The Forsaken Inn, where the beginning of another ending unfolds, is peaceful in the summer morning light. The innkeeper was busy looking over the common room’s empty tables and chairs before breakfast. Fimbriel nodded in satisfaction and sought the kitchens. It would be a thirsty day, if she guessed the morning’s mist aright. The arrival of travellers looking for something to slake their thirst and a place to rest from the midsummer heat would not be too far away.

[piosenniel]

Again, here are the CHARACTERS NEEDED:

2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.

These two must be veterans of the War of the Ring. They are loyal to the king and fought against evil, although they do not necessarily have to be of the thirty Rangers who rode south during the war. They have a deep friendship with Hanasian, as well as Elrond's sons, Elrohir and Elladan. They will know Kaldir if they were riding with the Rangers 15 years before when Kaldir was captured, or have heard of him and the terrible battle from some of the older Rangers who were there. Or, they may have encountered him more recently while plying his trade as a bounty hunter. They will probably know of Amandur, as well, as he is a rather prominent Ranger, with close association to Aragorn and the court. Outside of these specifications, the writers are free to develop the Ranger characters as they see fit.

_____________________________________________

2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.

Be as creative as you like with these guys. The only restrictions are that they be male, Men, and up to no good. They can either be working together or separately. They fall in with Naiore, probably somewhere in the vicinity of the inn. While seeming to work for her, they are also trying to figure out a way to betray her for their own profit. There is no loyalty among thieves!


_____________________________________________

Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above.

_____________________________________________

[piosenniel]

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

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

Those who have not played before in a Barrow Downs' RPG will be given preference. Final preference, though, will be at the discretion of the Game Owner.
_______________________________________
Character Description Form:

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

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? Please note you may play in only 3 games at one time.

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

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME:

AGE:

RACE:

GENDER:

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

APPEARANCE:

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

HISTORY:

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

A FIRST POST FOR YOUR CHARACTER MUST ACCOMPANY THIS FORM.

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

[piosenniel]

_____________________________________________

Writers will be chosen based on the quality of their submission, not on a first come, first in, basis.
_____________________________________________

[piosenniel]

Keep in mind you may use these NCE's (None Controlled Entities - characters not played by a particular writer) in your first post:

Cook - Aldarida Boffin

Server & maid - Rowana Brandybuck

Kitchen assistant & maid - Amarantha Willow

Stablemaster/handyman – Dervorin

Innkeeper - Fimbriel

[piosenniel]

Now open for business: You may submit your characters and First Posts for consideration

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Your Discussion Thread is up on the board. It is closed at present, until you tell me you are ready to open it.

Once the characters you need have been taken on board - then we should put the outline for the story on the Discussion Thread for all to see.

Nerindel

Your edited post for Lespheria is on it. smilies/smile.gif

[Elora]

Goodness!

Wonderful stuff Snowdog. The unique first person perspective should prove interesting indeed. I love how you've blended history and characters together and have taken notes of that encounter with Naiore. She'll remember Hanasian, make no mistake on that count. (rubbing hands together in anticipation of evil) smilies/biggrin.gif

Nerindel, great mixing of historic events as well. Naiore certainly has been busy, but then she always loathes being idle. Were it not for her unfortunate regard for life, she'd be diligent, hardworking, intelligent and gifted. smilies/wink.gif

I've also made notes concerning how her history links with Lespheria's. Seems Naiore was "fortunate" enough to get mother, but missed father and children. She'd rather like the opportunity to clean up more of the family.

As for opening the discussion thread, I'm all for it! Let's get some people on board and "tally ho"! smilies/cool.gif

[Nerindel]

Wow! wonderful post Snowdog smilies/biggrin.gif

I have to say that my eyes welled at the reading of Hanasians dream, and I had a great yearning to cry out nooo! when Naiore killed Farasan smilies/wink.gif

I too am ready for the discussion thread to open and looking forward to seeing what the new writers characters bring to the story. smilies/biggrin.gif

[Ealasaid]

I guess we are now ready to open the Discussion Thread.

Great posts, Nerindel & Snowdog!

Elora, that works for me. Also, that way, you will not be bound in any way by anything that might happen in the RPG. Have fun with it!

[Snowdog]

Well ok then... Lets open it up and see who al is interested! smilies/smile.gif

One bit of request I have pertaining to this RP.. that is I am hoping we all can 'write around' each other's posts with a minimal of discussing points in the discussion thread? I have seen some RPs here where everyone in the story is so bent on making every dot and tittle match that it bogs down the creative flow, at least for me. Also, I am unable to write when someone 'saves a post' so they can write in them later. I think.. 'Why should I post if I may have to edit it all later?' Anyway, http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon13.gif here's to hoping for a free-flowing RP! Cheers! http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon13.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Shwoa, Snowdog! Beautiful post! Now I can see why you favor first person.

And Nerindel yours was fantastic too. I’m feeling out of my depth here!

Elora, many thanks for offering to resolve the Green Dragon issue. I am no longer feeling off balance, ridiculous as it may seem!

Snowdog, I will do my utmost not to be picky, but I am a draftsman and comes with the territory to want the details to line up. smilies/wink.gif

Looking forward to starting soon, and seeing where this all leads us!

[piosenniel]

I am going to close this Planning Thread now. You can move your queries, observations, etc, to the newly opened Discussion Thread.

Snowdog - I would like to clarify about 'SAVES' for you - It is the obligation of the one who puts in the 'SAVE' to fit it in with both the posts previous to it and the posts that follow it.

There is no obligation on the part of the writer who posts after to go back and edit their post.

Having said that - I would like to see SAVES kept to a minimum.

[Elora]

Many thanks Piosenniel! smilies/smile.gif

Here is the outline of the story, taken from the last working draft of Ealasaid:

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

ACT 1: At the Forsaken Inn

Lespheria departs, leaving Amandur at the inn, where he remains in the hopes of finding out where Naiore is.
Naiore & Vanwe meet somewhere near the inn.
Kaldir captures Gilly, who is trying to rescue Benia.
Hanasian returns to the inn from Bree.
2 Shady Underworld Types arrive at the inn. (Or they may already be there -- writer‘s choice.)
2 New Rangers arrive at the inn, meeting Amandur and Hanasian.

ACT 2: Meetings & Departures

Kaldir returns to the woods, where he had earlier sensed an ominous presence, and discovers that it is indeed Naiore. He picks up her trail.
Naiore & Vanwe fall in together.
Hanasian & Amandur also learn of Naiore's presence by chance, intuition, or whispered rumor.
Having been intercepted and turned back by a messenger from her twin brother, Lespheria returns to the inn, where she rejoins Amandur.
Hanasian joins forces with the other two (as yet unnamed) Rangers.
Hearing somehow of Naiore’s presence, the Underworld Types decide to seek her out, leaving the inn before the others.
The rest of them depart (in separate groups) in pursuit of Naiore.
Gilly and Benia accompany Kaldir as his prisoners (sort of).

Act 3: Intrigue

Naiore & Vanwe take up with the two Shady Underworld Types
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him.
Hanasian catches up with Kaldir.

Act 4: The Noose Tightens

With Rangers and bounty hunters closing in, Naiore changes her focus from killing the Rangers to pursuing Menecin, using any and all means to conceal her path.
The Rangers (all of them) and Lespheria ride together.
Shady characters start to realize Naiore may be setting them up for a fall and so plot against her.
Gilly & Benia manage to free themselves or Kaldir loosens his grip as he becomes increasingly focused on the hunt for Naiore.

Act 5: End Game

Naiore makes her attempt to kill Menecin. She fails & flees to the south, deserting Vanwe to her fate.
Naiore tries to take down anyone she can as she attempts to escape the closing trap.
The shady characters make their move against Naiore, either on their own or together.
Naiore is trapped somewhere near the Gladden Fields, where she is either captured or slain.

If there are any questions, please don't hesitate to PM us. smilies/smile.gif

[Snowdog]

Good grief! I forgot to run spellcheck on that post! Have to fix some blaring errors.

Anyway, as a request in this RP, I am hoping that any 'saved' posts could be kept to a minimum so the interactive writing amongst all the writers can flow well. Maythis be a good write for all! smilies/smile.gif

Cheers! http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon13.gif

[piosenniel]

Snowdog - I took your post to Word and ran spell check over it - see if it's ok now.

[Snowdog]

Hey Great! Thanks Pio! smilies/smile.gif

[Elora]

Perhaps it's time to invite some people to join us!

Hey Snowdog, where's my beer? smilies/wink.gif

[Snowdog]

A http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon13.gif for elora!

Yes! Yes! I believe anyone who wishes to take on one of the open characters can post their required entry info here.

A note on the Ranger characters... its not reall a 'requirement' to be deep friends with Hanasían, but there is a close brotherhood among the Rangers, so it would be required to write as being familiar with Hanasían and Amandur, and possibly have memories of Kaldir.

[Elora]

"mmmmmmmm, beer!"

Thanks Snowdog, very refreshing!

I've started to invite individuals with a p.m. If any take up the invitation, I'll advise them to post their characters here for us all to see.

Meanwhile, based on the possibility that noone takes up the invitation (*sob*) I'm also working up some of the characters in advance preparation. Thus far, I'm working on the two nefarious shady underworld types. If I have my head around who these two are, it will be easier to write them when and if the need for us to write them arises.

I'd be happier still, if this advance prep work proves redundant.

smilies/biggrin.gif

[Imladris]

I've been meaning to contribute a character for this game for some time now...sorry it's taken me so long. I'm sorry if it seems a little rushed...
****************************
Character Description Form:
Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – NO

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Maethor

AGE: 35

RACE: Man

GENDER: Male (Ranger)

WEAPONS : A bow is slung across his back and Maethor carries a plain dagger that hangs from his belt and two long, slender, silver knives are hidden in his soft leather boots.

APPEARANCE: Maethor is strong boned and lithe. He dresses in dark clothes, mainly green and black, because they conceal him in darkness. Brown hair, which is nearly black, falls to his shoulders. His skin is a coppery brown color which has been enhanced by journeying under the sun.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Quiet and meek, Maethor does not particularly care to fight, save in self defense. He is no coward and likes to play the flute and compose songs, sometimes in elvish sometimes in the Common Tongue. He does not speak much, but thinks and ponders the things of life and the past. Kind and helpful even to his enemies, he is sometimes “duped” by those who have seemed to repent or seem to be more like friends than enemies.

HISTORY: When he was young, he spent much time in Rivendell. As he grew older, Maethor spent long years in roaming the boundaries of the Shire, seeking for those that would corrupt the Little Folk’s land with their evil. He knew of Kaldir and is aware of the horrors he suffered at the hand of Naiore. He had met Amandur II and Hanasian on occasion and has great respect for them. Though he was not among the thirty who joined Aragorn, he did travel swiftly to Gondor and rode with him to the battle on the Pelennor Fields. After that, he has sought those who escaped, especially the elf maiden Nairore, whom he hated because of what she did to kin and the free people of Middle-earth.
_____________________________________________

Imladris' post

Maethor slowly reigned his eager stallion and lingered in the shadows of the forest. The Forsaken Inn loomed like a great shadow, ominious in the eerie light of the moon. Maethor shuddered...great evil was here, lurking in the shadows. He considered the quest that had led him here, the mission to pursue the elf Naiore. He shuddered again as he thought of her, the elf that had run with Sauron. It seemed impossible that a member of the Fair Fold would sully herself with such evil.

Naiore had harmed many, tortured even her own kind. Maethor remembered Kaldir, the ranger whose spirit she had tried to break. Maethor snorted in disgust. Kaldir had indeed lowered himself to the ranks of bounty hunter, yet he was a Dunedain...he was a brother yet.

It was a night laden with memories. Memories of evil times, of darkness that still needed to be routed out of the happy lands. The Shire...his blood turned chill as he realized that Naiore had probably wished to spill blood in her wrath of vengeance upon this fair land. Curse her, that elf woman. Maethor laughed aloud, suddenly, at the Hobbits...the Hobbits that had been (and are still) ignorant of the evil in the south. Even though viewed as a scaliwag among them, Maethor loved the little folk and he could not bear to see Naiore harm them and their land.

At the memories, dull hatred took possesion of Maethor's mind as he slowly dismounted and tied his stallion, Nair, to an old hitching post. Creeping softly, hiding in the shadows, the ranger made his way to the door and opened it. Hanasian and Amandur should be there in the room. Maethor peered about him, trying to distinguish the figures of men in the thick fog of smoke as he sought ofr the two rangers.

[ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

Imladris, well met or mae govannan (as I should say) smilies/smile.gif

Many thanks for your contribution. I gather you're interested in one of the 2 Ranger roles up for grabs. Looks good to me and an interesting interpretation on the usual spin on "Ranger" types.

I'll let the others know about your interest and we hopefully should have a decision for you soon. smilies/smile.gif

[Nerindel]

Hey, Imladris

Maethor looks great smilies/biggrin.gif

Like Elora said, once we hear from the others we'll let you know smilies/wink.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Hooray, another of the “good guys”! Thanks Imladris.

[Ealasaid]

Looks good, Imladris!

Sorry I have been absent from the thread for so long -- lots of complications. I hope I am back now.

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

[Snowdog]

Ah yes, the quiet one, Maethor! Looks good! Have a http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon13.gif smilies/smile.gif


Hoping a few more submissions will come in, and I too have taken the chore of writing up another ranger character as well. Hoping he won't be needed.

Ealasaid, I understand the RL complications dear. Good to see you back! smilies/smile.gif

[ August 26, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Elora]

Hmmm, then that seems to settle one Ranger character.

Welcome Imladris. smilies/biggrin.gif

I'm hopeful I won't need to nut a few more character profiles myself. Three is enough. But, if that's how it goes, then so be it. Chores aside, I think our number could shape a wonderful tale.

Welcome back Ealasaid! smilies/smile.gif

[Imladris]

Thanks for accepting me! Just in case no more submissions come in (I can't imagine why they won't...this sounds so interesting), I'd be glad to play a shady underworldery sort of character if I'm needed. Just let me know.

[Everdawn]

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES, Truthin in a Dark Place, Corsairs and Corsets, The Fall of Greenwood the Great.

2.) I am in two at the moment.

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

(One of the Shady underworld types)

NAME: Avanill...

AGE: 20

RACE: Man

GENDER: Male


WEAPONS: Numerous sets of knives, a sword and numerous little bottles filled with poisons, which he uses to eradicate people who have not paid his debts.

APPEARANCE: Like his mother, Atantri, he has tanned skin, shoulder-length dark brown hair. His eyes are a deep shade of blue. He wears clothes of dark colours and a calico-type cloak, which is now a sign of his house.

PERSONALITY: Avanill is a deep person and very unhospitable to people whom he falls out with. He has killed before and like his mother takes pride in success. Avanill is not a complete outlaw. He never knew his father, whom his mother killed. He is very good at bargaining, to his credit, is very gentlemanly, until he has reason to hurt someone. It is not a good idea to be in his debt. Avanill is immensely respectful towards his mother Atantri who single-handedly raised him in Minhiriath before leaving him at intervals to terrorise the West Road.

HISTORY:

Avanill lived out his childhood years in the inn at Minhiriath with his grandmother the innkeeper and his mother, a Bandit on the West Road. Avanill was always curious about the type of people who would wander into the inn and constantly listened to their stories. His mother had taught him to ride horses from a young age as well as fight. And his mother had always been pleased with him. Later in his life, and a little while after the war of the ring, Avanill joined his mother with several other bandits on Pinnath Gelin in Gondor, herself having evaded capture numerous amounts of times, but failing on one occasion when she double crossed the head of the bandits and was awarded her life by King Helinon, the son of the mighty Kin Hirluin the fair who was slain in the war of the ring. Helinon was pleased for Atantri’s actions and granted her, her life.

Avanill had been around eight years old, when he heard news of his mother’s capture and when she returned home, he practised her skill of robbery. As it was said… Avanill joined his mother in Pinnath Gelin, where they robbed passing merchants and parties. Swiftly evading many a time, the guards of the mark and of Gondor. At the age of twenty, Avanill and his mother returned to the inn at Minhiriath where Atantri released him from her house, and presented him with a calico cloak to which he said. “Mother I will for ever wear this as a sign of your house and of your noble deeds to me and our kind. My children and theirs will keep your name honoured.” And he went off to the north to try his luck of trading on Middle-Earth’s black-market selling stolen goods which he had acquired from his old acquaintances, the bandits of Pinnath Gelin, who still roamed few and far between on its planes.
_____________________________________________

Everdawn's post

Avanill restrained his horse from further movement than was necessary. It was true that the pair looked a formidable team when out on the open road, Avanill pitied his victims greatly. The Forsaken inn he chimed to himself. “Ah yes, I should think it has been time enough for the people who owe me, to pay me back. Has it been due time for them Amathalay?” he asked the grey horse who seemed to stamp his hooves in approval.

“So do I.” Avanill replied and dismounted the animal. And remembered his mother, the formidable bandit, Atantri’s parting words to him. “It has come time mother, I must journey north.” Is what he had said gathering up his weapons, seeing standing before him the tired form of his thirty six year old mother Atantri. “So soon? You are eagre my son, and that may get you into trouble in the future. Remember that.” She said as she handed him his cloak. “Not if you have taught me well.” He said back to her. “That is what I fear most. I can offer you one piece of advice that will see you through all of your years, even when I am gone.” Avanill stopped dead, and listened eagerly, as he always did when his mother spoke.

“Trust no one. I would be dead ten times over if it were not for this instinct. You owe no allegiance to anyone, not even to me, you are your own person. The days of old with our companions of the bandits are near over, if it is your choice to deal with them, make it be that you trade to Mordor. There is still resistance there, and a will to pay high prices for goods.” Avanill had kissed his mother on the head and left with the grey horse whom his mother used to ride in her days of terrorising Pinnath Gelin, and whom she had named Amathalay, after a traitor her friend killed saying “It is a name only fit for a horse.”

It had been a long ride for Avanill on his old but sturdy and intimidating steed, but he had been here before. His mother was right, he had been dealing with the bandits of Pinnath Gelin, but he had not guessed that she was so close to the truth, his comapny did take goods grom the bandits and sold them in turn at a higher percentage to outlaws in Mordor, to name one in particular, Naiore. Yes she paid high prices for Avanill's goods, and it was common knowledge that the king's men were after her.


It was his black market trade which had brought him here in the first place, on his way further north. “Hello Sir” came the voice of a man from the stables. Avanill turned around to see him, “Dervorin, if it isn’t you. Last time I saw you, you owed me a debt!” said Avanill cheerfully. “I uh… I paid you back, begging you pardon Avanill.” Said Dervorin, slightly alarmed.

“Of course you have!” Avanill chortled, “Not to hold a man’s debts against him of course…” he trailed off and walked closer to the man. “… you fail to pay me on time again and I will have your head-“ Avanill paused when two decent looking men came into the stables, to which Avanill changed his time immediately, “And yes, my mother is fine.. how is your family?!!” the men left shortly after Avanill finished this sentence, which prompted him to go back into threat mode. “Fine” muttered Dervorin. “Well…” began Avanill leaning closer again, “they wont be next time, understand?” and without waiting for an answer, Avanill turned on his heel and entered the inn leaving only his horse and the swish of his cloak in his wake.


[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ August 30, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[piosenniel]

Imladris and Everdawn - please note the edits on your posts. They were simply to space your First Post away from the Character Bio, and standardize the First Post identifying line. (Makes it easier for me when it's time to transfer them to the RPG)

[Elora]

Mae Govannen Everdawn and our thanks for your contribution for a nefarious underworld character. smilies/smile.gif

An intriguing personage indeed.

I do have some questions (being a block headed Bracegirdle from Harbottle smilies/wink.gif ). How have your character and Naiore met or how do you envisage the two meeting?

As the two will be working together, I'm interested to see what manner of connection or relationship you foresee between your bandit and the Ravenor of Mordor. It will help me conceptualise Naiore's own inclinations towards him.

Thanks and cheers (where's that beer when you need it)!

[Nerindel]

Hey! great to see you Everdawn smilies/biggrin.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

I do have some questions (being a block headed Bracegirdle from Harbottle).

I'd like to formally protest the above quote! We Bracegirdles do not have square heads or ones made of notably dense material, even in Harbottle! I believe Mr. Bilbo based his opinion on Lobelia Sackville-Baggins nee Bracegirdle, who can hardly be said to be representative.... smilies/biggrin.gif Sorry Elora, I just couldn't pass it up! smilies/wink.gif

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Ealasaid]

Good to see you, Everdawn! Your post looks great! Should be an interesting character...

Kaldir might be interested in catching him for a bounty, too! smilies/wink.gif There are lots of opportunities opening up for an enterprising bounty hunter! smilies/biggrin.gif

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Snowdog]

Hey Cool!a submission for an evil sort! I have a couple questions about Avanill & the inn at Minhiriath aon the West Road. I was just curious as to where on the Middle Earth map this place would be? Hanasían is quite fond of Inns. smilies/wink.gif

Oh, the beer for Maethor is for him to enjoy while we await more submissions, not that I would make a unilateral decision to accept the character. However, in light of the activity, I don't see too many submissions coming along, and both characters submitted so far are great!

[Imladris]

Not meaning to be a pain, but I'm confused.

Elora said this: Hmmm, then that seems to settle one Ranger character.
Welcome Imladris.

Snowdog said this: Oh, the beer for Maethor is for him to enjoy while we await more submissions, not that I would make a unilateral decision to accept the character. However, in light of the activity, I don't see too many submissions coming along, and both characters submitted so far are great!


Correct me if I'm wrong (don't take this negatively, I don't mean to be nasty!) but what exactly do you mean, Snowdog? It's been bugging me all day...am I only accepted for now, or permanantly? (BTW, thanks for the compliment.)

I am sorry if I'm being an annoying little twit, but I just want to be absolutely sure, ya know what I mean?

[Elora]

I can't speak for Snowdog... some may say I can't speak for myself. smilies/wink.gif

However I think Snowdog may have been referring to the contrib made by Everdawn and not yours, Imladris. I thought you were accepted by us all, no temporary about it.

Snowdog Am I wrong? Go on, it's safe to say so if I am. smilies/tongue.gif

Galadriel of the Olden No need to save a place nor kick anyone out of the way. smilies/smile.gif

We look forward to your contribution. Roles will be assigned on the quality of the profile and First Post, and how they integrate with the other established characters and plot. It's not on a who is in line first basis.

As there are two places for baddies (and none yet assigned as far as I am aware), you're plenty in time to show us what you've got! smilies/smile.gif

[piosenniel]

All those desiring to play characters in this game:

Posting SAVES for Character Bios and First Posts is not allowed. Just get the Bio and Post done and put it on the Discussion thread please.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

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

[Snowdog]

I have no idea what I mean Imladris. I guess I mean sit down and have a http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon13.gif & a http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon9.gif and wait with us as we see who all submits characters and all. smilies/smile.gif I myself think that since you took the time to read all our background, characters, and posts and wrote up a character and post, that you are in as is Everdawn, but the way I understand the rules of RP here in the Shire, all submissions have to be made and after a time the acceptances are extended. which would be the case if we had 6 people want two Ranger characters, which I highly doubt will be tha case, so for all practical purposes, you're in. smilies/smile.gif Does that make it any clearer??

[ August 28, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Imladris]

Thanks for the beer and the smoke. Maethor will definately enjoy them both as smoking helps him think. smilies/wink.gif Okay...okay.

Yeah, that makes things a lot clear, thank you!

[piosenniel]

Sorry it has seemed so confusing concerning the choosing of characters for the Game.

Here is how that should be done when there is more than one owner for the game:

Once a gamer proposes a Character and puts up a First Post – then all the owners of the game, should, by PM, consider the character offered and the quality of the writing, and decide whether the player is accepted or will be asked to rework his/her submission. The player can of course, at once, be told thank you for the submission, and that it is under consideration.

Then, one owner will speak for the group – PM’ing the player if the character is not acceptable, PM’ing the player if there is a need to change something on the bio or the post, OR placing the accepted player’s name with the character name under the appropriate listing as shown below for this game:

CHARACTERS NEEDED:

2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.

1.)

2.)

_________________________________________________

2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.

1.)

2.)
_________________________________________________


Since it was Ealasaid I was first in contact with concerning this game, I would like her to be the main spokesperson for doing this.

Can all of the owners please PM her concerning any questions or needs for revisions they have with the current submissions, and if none, your willingness to let their character play, as it stands now, in the game.

~~ Thanks! Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

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

[Everdawn]

Thanks, and i have not really thought about exactly where Avanill's inn is. But yes, that would sound interesting for Kaldir to come after Avanill.

Elora: ok im feeling much blonder than i already am... I suppose Avanill could have met Naiore when the bandits used to bootleg goods to Mordor during/after the war of the ring... Evil by association. Maybe this could be the basis for joining her. Who knows, Avanill has a thing about saving his own skin, if you get what i mean.

[Ealasaid]

Everdawn -- do you think you could rework your first post a bit to reflect this? As Naiore is a fugitive, it is unlikely that she would take up with a complete unknown.

We need to see a little more clearly how your Avanill fits into the mix. Thanks! smilies/biggrin.gif

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Snowdog]

Right, what Pio said...

Unfortunatly I find the PM system a bit awkward and cumbersome when trying to communicate with more than one person. Sorry if I muddied the waters.

[Ealasaid]

No problem, Snowdog! smilies/smile.gif

CHARACTERS NEEDED:


2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.
1.)Maethor (Imladris)

2.)

_________________________________________________


2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.
1.)

2.)
__________________________________________

Everdawn - we are waiting for your reworked post. smilies/smile.gif

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[piosenniel]

Please note, Everdawn did modify her post on Page 1.

Here it is for your perusal:

Everdawn's post

Avanill restrained his horse from further movement than was necessary. It was true that the pair looked a formidable team when out on the open road, Avanill pitied his victims greatly. The Forsaken inn he chimed to himself. “Ah yes, I should think it has been time enough for the people who owe me, to pay me back. Has it been due time for them Amathalay?” he asked the grey horse who seemed to stamp his hooves in approval.

“So do I.” Avanill replied and dismounted the animal. And remembered his mother, the formidable bandit, Atantri’s parting words to him. “It has come time mother, I must journey north.” Is what he had said gathering up his weapons, seeing standing before him the tired form of his thirty six year old mother Atantri. “So soon? You are eagre my son, and that may get you into trouble in the future. Remember that.” She said as she handed him his cloak. “Not if you have taught me well.” He said back to her. “That is what I fear most. I can offer you one piece of advice that will see you through all of your years, even when I am gone.” Avanill stopped dead, and listened eagerly, as he always did when his mother spoke.

“Trust no one. I would be dead ten times over if it were not for this instinct. You owe no allegiance to anyone, not even to me, you are your own person. The days of old with our companions of the bandits are near over, if it is your choice to deal with them, make it be that you trade to Mordor. There is still resistance there, and a will to pay high prices for goods.” Avanill had kissed his mother on the head and left with the grey horse whom his mother used to ride in her days of terrorising Pinnath Gelin, and whom she had named Amathalay, after a traitor her friend killed saying “It is a name only fit for a horse.”

It had been a long ride for Avanill on his old but sturdy and intimidating steed, but he had been here before. His mother was right, he had been dealing with the bandits of Pinnath Gelin, but he had not guessed that she was so close to the truth, his comapny did take goods grom the bandits and sold them in turn at a higher percentage to outlaws in Mordor, to name one in particular, Naiore. Yes she paid high prices for Avanill's goods, and it was common knowledge that the king's men were after her.


It was his black market trade which had brought him here in the first place, on his way further north. “Hello Sir” came the voice of a man from the stables. Avanill turned around to see him, “Dervorin, if it isn’t you. Last time I saw you, you owed me a debt!” said Avanill cheerfully. “I uh… I paid you back, begging you pardon Avanill.” Said Dervorin, slightly alarmed.

“Of course you have!” Avanill chortled, “Not to hold a man’s debts against him of course…” he trailed off and walked closer to the man. “… you fail to pay me on time again and I will have your head-“ Avanill paused when two decent looking men came into the stables, to which Avanill changed his time immediately, “And yes, my mother is fine.. how is your family?!!” the men left shortly after Avanill finished this sentence, which prompted him to go back into threat mode. “Fine” muttered Dervorin. “Well…” began Avanill leaning closer again, “they wont be next time, understand?” and without waiting for an answer, Avanill turned on his heel and entered the inn leaving only his horse and the swish of his cloak in his wake.


[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

Thanks,Pio, for pointing out that Everdawn's edit is up. (Sorry, Everdawn, if I overlooked it!)

Looks good to me! Let me touch base with the other owners & I will let you know. Thanks for the quick edit. smilies/biggrin.gif

[Imladris]

I don't think I put this up in my character post, but I'm in Resistance as well. When I wrote, the RPG was still shut down. THought I'd let you know.

[Ealasaid]

Okay, Imladris, that's fine. smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaid]

Great job, Everdawn! You're in. smilies/smile.gif

CHARACTERS NEEDED:


2 Rangers - Male, Race of Men.
1.)Maethor (Imladris)

2.)

_________________________________________________


2 "Shady Underworld Types" -- Male, Race of Men.
1.)Avanill (Everdawn)

2.)
__________________________________________

[Ealasaid]

A new question has come up... everyone's first posts take place in the evening except for Elora's posts for Naiore & Vanwe, which take place the following morning. I expect that most of us have some additional action to complete before morning.

I imagine this happened since Elora wrote her posts first & didn't know what the rest of us were up to just yet. In order to get on the same time frame here, we need to do one of several things:

1 - Elora can do a quick re-write to put her posts in the evening along with the rest of ours.

2 - Elora can wait to post again until the rest of us catch up timewise. (I imagine she won't be too keen on that option!)

3 - anyone else have a suggestion? (Elora, what do you prefer?)

I am open to ideas at this point.

[Elora]

Hmmmm, I take it that my difficulty with patiently waiting for things I am anticipating precedes me

"Hmmmmmm, I don't Elora will be too keen with that."

:P

Well, right you are. Being an impatient brat, I'll re-write my opening post to fit with the evening. That way, we're all starting from the same time frame.

That will be my task today - rewrite for consistency. I will re-post the edits later tonight (bold perhaps, but thanks in advance Piosenniel for replacing my old opening posts with the forthcoming new ones).

EVERDAWN Welcome along! Your character's background fits well with some ideas I was entertaining for Naiore's background on her involvement with Avanill.

Here are those ideas:

Naiore cut quite an unusual figure in Mordor when she was there. She retained distinctly Elven sensabilities, surrounded by orcs, ashes, fumes,cruelty, fear, suffering and of course Sauron.

One visual impression I have of her is as she walks through a dark, echoing and dank hall of Barad-Dur, dressed as one would expect a Noldorin Elf of noble descent to dress. Silks and gems adorn her, and she walks gracefully through the corridors as though she does not see what is around her.

It is that incongruity that is a big part of her character.

So, that leads me to my ideas concering her connection with Avanill. Naiore would have need to source the luxuries she required from outside of Mordor. Silks and fine things would not be gotten within the borders of that dark place. Nor could orcs be entrusted to bring such spoils, and even had they been able to Naiore would disdain to touch such things ruined by their loathsome touch. She hated orcs, but used them as tools like she uses all else.

So, Avanill and his mother could be the principle supply of the things she needed. Fine materials, delicate and sophisticated things of Elven design, scents... but also darker things like poisons so dread as to be impossible to get on the legitimate market of apothecaries. Poisons from the south, forbidden, she would use. Infusions to loosen a tongue or heighten the sensation of fear and pain.

So Avanill would know of an Elf whose custom consisted of decadence luxury and terrible things, arcane almost, mysterious always. She would have dealt with his mother, and mayhap from time to time Avanill may have seen her himself.


If that works for you, and please let me know if it does or does not, that leads me onto my next idea for the present timeframe of the RP.

The luxury of Naiore's situation has vanished. Mordor is unmade and Sauron can no longer offer her the security she once had. Gone to a large extent are the silks and the wealth that she had accrued over the years. I imagine those picking through the rubble of Mordor's Barad-dur and Minas Morgul would have stumbled upon a bright jewel, a woman's delicate shoe, a silken scarf.

Naiore, the fugitive, can little afford such things now. However, her need for the poisions and infusions that she could get through Avanill and his mother will not have ceased. If anything, it will have increased.

I got to wondering if it was possible that Avanill, who knows of murmurings and whisperings in the darker communities of Middle-earth as well as those in the accepted communities, may have some inclination that she was about. If she encountered him, she would suspect him of being another bounty hunter, but he has value that other hunters do not.

She will want more infusions and she knows Avanill can get them. From theat starting point a connection can be made between the two characters in the present tense of the Fourth Age, 12 long years after Naiore last glided serenely through the dark fastness of Barad-dur as though she was a swan in an inky pool.

How does that all sound? smilies/smile.gif

[Elora]

OK, here's the edited first posts for Naiore and Vanwe.

____________________________________________

(place prior to Vanwe post)

Elora's post for Naiore

The afternoon shadows grew lush and long, reaching further a field as the Sun made her way into the West. Naiore watched the darkness stretch and grow around her with pleasure. With the night would come other things and she had been waiting long and driven for. She remained still and at relative ease in the embrace of a shadow cast by the ancient bole of a fig tree. It loomed massive over her, surrounded by the adjoining woods that carpeted the land around the inn she was watching.

Some may account it a pleasant place. For Naiore, it was a land of failure and frustration, a wretched place and she had little love for the tree or anything else that lived within its bounds. She was difficult to see, enfolded as she was in twilight darkness. Her inky leathers bore the stains of hard travel. Mud daubed her boots, all but obscuring the delicate silver stitching tracing vine tendrils up her boots. Her hair was no longer smoothly braided. Unearthly golden wisps escaped to graze her cheek on the lifting breeze of a midsummer afternoon. Her state and presence gave rise to a great many questions, the answers to which Naiore did not greatly care to entertain as she cast a simmering glance towards the Forsaken Inn.

Rangers, cursed scions of Numenor, had pushed her hard through the wilderness. She had managed to elude them, her skills tested as they had not been in the past 12 years. Still, although she was for the moment safe, she was far from pleased. It grated to be sitting beneath a shedding tree encrusted with mud. She should, right at this moment, be running in free abandon further to the north. She should, as she sat in darkness gathering her wits and thoughts, be bringing a new tide and era to a land that had escaped the harsher ravages of war. She should, by all rights, be at the pinnacle of power, all the might of Mordor at her back.

Naiore flicked a braid back over her shoulder, its golden weight added to the other seven that hung long to her waist. Instead, she had been cheated of all that should have been hers, even the small prize of the Shire. Rangers and her own people conspired to hem her in and bring her down like an animal. They would take her, bound hand and foot, to face justice as the ignorant liked to call it. There was no justice in this world. There was no love either. No softness, no compassion, certainly no valour or glorious. Those who sought it were fools, nothing more. If anything, two ages spent in the turmoil of Middle-earth had taught her that. The much vaunted values of her kin and the infant cultures that clambered noisy and brash at its feet were lies. They deluded themselves. There was only death, fear, pain, woe, suffering and one other thing. Revenge. That was all.

She who saw the truth and in doing so mastered both it and the world around her, she who had held such power in countless lands, mastered terror and was mistress of the hounds of war and hell, sat in a cold wood. Even had she tried for the Havens to seek release from these mortal lands, she could not penetrate the bristling ring set in place by Elessar around the Shire. His name curdled in her mouth. Twelve years spent running from a beggar king of mortal descent to come to this!

Naiore raised starlit grey eyes to the darkening sky. In them were the long tale of her years. A sadness so heavy it could suffocate her was allowed to surface for air as she glanced at the sky. Then cold anger and revenge settled in and pushed the tiredness away. She looked at the inn, considering it once more. Her face was impassive, as often it was, carved elven beauty remarkable even amongst her own kin. Her face had beheld horror untold, she had wrought it with her own hands, for reasons few could understand. Now she sat waiting for an incipient snare to spring, dirty and desperate but not without her pride. She wore that like armour. It had gotten her through before this day.

The Inn was glowing with firelight in the early evening. Her gaze shifted to the stables, where it was said her daughter worked. Naiore could see no sign of Vanwe just yet, but her sources were adamant. They well knew the price their lies would earn them. It was a difficult death at the hands of a Ravennor. Naiore’s reputation was not conferred to her without merit.
Somewhere was a Ranger too, one she knew. She had expected to find Kaldir skulking in the forest. Such acts were not beneath him as they were her. The presence of both Kaldir and Vanwe was not a coincidence that could be ignored. She should have killed the whelp when she was born, unwanted by-blow that Vanwe was. The idea that some long buried maternal instinct prevented her was laughable. Only the perilous consequences of a lack of restraint keep her silent. Rangers were about, though not as thickly here as they were further West.

Vanwe should be well south, in the desolate Haradwaithe, kept with the goats and the barbarians Naiore had left her with. The fact that she was not had left and survived the journey north and eluded capture told Naiore much. The fact that Vanwe was known to be tracing her told her more. She would be a woman now, grown and no longer a helpless babe. There was no telling the danger she was. Perhaps, Naiore thought, she could use Kaldir to put an end to Vanwe and her threat. She could see to Kaldir after that.

But the fallen Ranger would need to be pushed, if only to see past his immediate mercenary loss in Vanwe's death. It remained to be seen if she could achieve that. He had proved difficult to break, those years ago. Kaldir was a rare challenge, one she had enjoyed then as she soon hoped to.

Naiore waited out the twilight. Travellers were still straggling in to the inn. Vanwe would appear. She worked in the stables, assisting a man who was no real threat for the likes of Naiore. Kill Vanwe and Kaldir, attempt again to push north without a tail, and see if bloodshed could not find the Shire after all. She was without any other purpose, and she would pursue this with a breathtakingly singular will that proved stronger than steel.

The Free Peoples could not hope to contend with her. Sauron himself had never truly conquered all of her heart and soul. Menecin neither. In the face of all she had endured and perpetrated throughout the wars of the Second and Third Age, rising time and again, ceaselessly vigilant in her quest for knowledge that had consumed her life, achieving the death of her daughter and Kaldir was nothing but a light aside.
Perhaps, Naiore mollified herself, one of them held what she looked for. Perhaps they could tell her from where fear spawned. It was unlikely, but possible. She held to that, for it made the ignominy of her failure in recent months to reach the Shire, her fugitive life since Sauron's fall lesser. How they would have laughed to see her reduced to such a state provided they escaped her with the facility to laugh intact within their bodies and souls. She could endure a rough night and hard travel if it meant the achievement of all she had endured and suffered for.

Whilst her riddle of fear circled in her head, Naiore watched from the trees. She needed but the slightest opportunity to begin, and she had tired of idle waiting and ceaseless flight. In the depth of night, she would strike. Snare Vanwe, lead her away and draw Kaldir after her… and then when both were dead and no longer able to scheme against her, she would no longer have the inconvenience of a bounty hunter to hamper her north ward’s push. The lanterns of the stars began to spring into life as Naiore maintained her watch on inn, pondering who had found sent Vanwe north. Elrond’s son’s mayhap? Celeborn? A contemptuous smile curved her lips as she pondered her kinswoman’s husband. Yes, Celeborn of Doriath would do just such a thing. She would see to it that much ruin came of his impertinence.

___________________________________________
___________________________________________

(place after Snowdog's Hanasian post)

Elora's post for Vanwe

… The water dripped in a regular ceaseless rhythm throughout the day, the night and the day. It was broken up by the scratching of rats in the straw, perhaps a wet and hacking cough nearby or a croaked song that had taken possession of a man’s voice and raised it like a tattered flag of insanity against the reality of the bars. Torchlight flickered fitfully against slick and dark stones as through the flames resented their presence, free as they were from the bars but locked in damp darkness. They would come by regularly, sometimes relighting torches that had rebelled and gone out. Some brought hard bread that was passed through the bars. That marked the beginning of another day. Sometimes it was water. That marked the night. It was race to claim bread or water before the rats did.

In that bleakness, a spider spun a silken web in the far corner of her cell. The strands caught the intermittent torch light, tiny gems caught in the web to dazzle unwary observers. It would float in the icy blast of wind that raced down the passage every time the outer main door would open. Then the sound of boots would start, counter tempo to the dripping water. There had been a lot of boots on the stone one morning after the bred had been pushed through the bars. The tiny jewels in the spider’s web became fiery with torch light that they had brought with them. She remembered that. It was beautiful, even if everything else was not and she had smiled faintly in that grimness to behold it.

The men had golden hair, like hers in many respects and yet not. It fell thickly around their shoulders, sometimes braided. Her own was a more delicate shade, lighter in weight and smoother in texture. Some clutched helms under their arms. Their torches glinted off mail. It was not as fair as the spider’s web. She remembered a saying as she took in their grim presence. Silk was stronger than steel. She looked into their faces and wondered about that.
One of them had produced a large iron circle. Many keys jangled discordantly from it. He fitted one to the lock at her bars.

The others stepped back, hands tightening around sword hilts that jutted from their belt encircled hips. She looked back up at the spider’s web as the door creaked in protest at its opening. Two men stepped through.

“On your feet,” one roughly ordered in Westron. He glowered at her. She did as she was told.

“We need more light,” the other one spat over his shoulder. Men slowly stepped closer to the bars. They held their torches out, reluctant to cast light on those within. She was struck by the realisation that they did not really want to see what they thought they were going to.

“Move but a muscle and you die,” intoned the man who had first spoke. She believed him. The other renewed his grip on his hilt, swallowed hard and stepped forward. He tipped her chin up, his fingers hard and rough against her skin. She stared blankly ahead, not daring to breathe. She heard movement, the sound of paper being unfolded.

“She is reported as claiming her name to be Vanwe,” he said. Doubt was in his voice, tempered also by suspicion and a dangerous anger that could flare brighter than any torch at any moment. Vanwe could smell it. She knew its scent well.

“Perhaps it is so, Farald. Look at her,” urged the man who held her chin so tightly.
“I’ve seen that face often enough,” the other replied heavily. She heard the paper bunch in his fist.

“Then by what sorcery did she achieve this?”

She saw two faces crowd her vision. They peered at her in silence. One shook his head as the other released her chin. She sagged back at the sudden change in balance, recovering quickly. A curse hissed in the silence, and somewhere else someone laughed blindly to fill the hole that insanity left in his mind.

“Silence,” roared one of the men in her cell. He cast her another glance. She lowered her eyes and mentally withdrew. If the anger came now, it was best she was not here. She knew what that glance meant. It was best if she was far away when it started. It was easier.

“It is not her Farald,” the other said.

“You had best hope that it is not,” Farald spat. He turned on his boot heel and stalked from her cell.

“What about her,” a man called after him.

“She can go. If I find her again, she’ll not fare so well. Rohan has had more than it’s share of the wider world and its Elves.” His voice floated back down behind him. There was a blast of air as the main door was opened. The men followed him, boot steps filling the prison's sagging emptiness once more. One remained by the open door to her cell.

“I would be swift, were I you. This is no place to dawdle with the doom of Rohan on your head,” he said. He walked away, a slow and measured tread. She watched him open the main door and pull his helm on. he had reports to make. Naiore Dannan was not in custody as they had thought. Those who already readied the gallows would have to wait a little longer. After 12 years and centuries of suffering, a little longer is both an instant and an eternity.

Vanwe ran then, the wind at her heels. She ran running fast, past grass and trees and village. Faster and faster, away from Rohan who nearly hanged her in mistake. Away from Umbar and the slave galleys where soldiers had nearly sold her when their error in her identity was known. North, where her mother had gone it was said and perhaps where her father was buried. Mirkwood, loomed ahead of her. It would be an arduous task to avoid those within it…

“Vanwe, have you found that cider yet?” The innkeeper’s voice called down into the cellar from atop the stairs. Vanwe started from her reverie, blinking at the bar of torchlight that shone golden on the earth floor of the dark cellar. She gathered her wits, pushing the cobwebs of unwelcome recollection aside.

“Yes,” Vanwe responded as she made for the stairs. The innkeeper smiled in relief. Vanwe had been gone so long in the cellar she had started to worry. With a shake of her head, she returned to the common room which was starting to fill with the rapid onset of evening. Vanwe reached the top of the stairs with a final shiver that slide down her spine. She looked over her shoulder, back into the darkness of the cellar and then firmly shut the door on it as she shut another in her mind. No more memories, not tonight, she resolved as she too returned to the common room.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Vanwe said as she handed the cider to the innkeeper. Busily filling waiting cups and placing them on a tray, she shook her head and shot Vanwe a brief smile.

“I thought something was wrong, is all. Go have some supper. You look pale. Have you eaten today?”

“No,” said Vanwe though she meant to deny that anything was wrong. She was but a wandering Elf, nothing more, no past, nothing.

“I thought as much. Quickly, sit before Cook sees you and I’ll fetch something from the kitchens as soon as I see to these.” The Innkeeper hoisted the tray of mugs and pints and whirled off. Vanwe passed crowded tables where Men and Hobbits spoke or ruminated in silence. There were no Elves tonight. At least she would not have to avoid them. There were Rangers though and that was unsettling. Rangers were only slightly less enthusiastic in their pursuit of her mother than the Rohirrim. Choosing a quiet and unoccupied table, Vanwe sat with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart.

Lespheria had left the key to her room in her keeping. Vanwe played with it absently upon the table top, wrapped deep in her thoughts once again. It had been months since she ventured north and she had found nearly nothing. Her mother was not here and neither was her father. Perhaps those who whispered of their deaths were right after all.

“No need to look so sad, Vanwe, have some wine.” Vanwe looked up at the Innkeeper’s kind smile as she set the wine glass down. Then she was off again as a table full of Men called for ale. Oh, Vanwe said inwardly as she stared at the glass and then at the key, there was need. Here she sat, alone and no closer to the truth and her family than she had been when she set out from the South. It was possible that they hunted her even now. They had done so all through Gondor and Rohan. Their wrath at her flight would break upon her shoulders and back, and all for nothing. She had failed.

As Vanwe sat faced with the vast pointlessness of her life, she felt the weight of another’s gaze upon her. She dared look up to find a Ranger, not Kaldir nor Hanasian nor Amandur, considering her closely. A sliver of fear lanced through her and her hand closed over Lespheria’s key. She looked sharply away again and withdrew inwards. The urge to flee to Lespheria’s room and hide was strong. Her brow furrowed and she rested her head on one hand. Elsewhere in the room someone laughed loudly. The door opened and closed.
Vanwe looked up in time to see Hanasian walk through the door, the road clearly upon him. He had come back, as he had said he would. Her heart was glad for that. His alert gaze combed the room as he took in his surrounds. When it swept over her, the Ranger would only have seen the long golden curtain of her hair as her head rested once more on her hand. A small flame of hope had sprung up within her, though. Hanasian had spoken of her mother under the stars and he had said he wished to speak with her upon his return. Perhaps he held what Vanwe needed. He had returned. It was a sign that not all was lost. Perhaps he knew something she could use. If nothing else, he was a friendly face. In the Sea of Strangers she was surrounded by in the common room that too made her glad.

Kaldir wished her only for the gold on her head. Of that she was certain. Amandur suspected her of the same incredulous crimes laid at her mother’s feet. Lespheria had left with the morning. Hanasian was the only other person who knew who her mother was and was neither suspicious or a bounty hunter. The night did not seem so large nor alone now. Vanwe set down the key and sipped at her glass a little.

_____________________________________________


The timing of posts is that Naiore's comes before Vanwe's and that Vanwe's comes after Snowdog's Hanasian.

Imladris, if you want the Ranger that Vanwe notices studying her to be your character, that's fine. If not, then that's fine too.

_____________________________________________

Elora

I set off your posts from each other only for ease of my placing them on the game.

Is this correct? - Snowdog's Hanasian post is followed by Naiore and then Vanwe when it gets to the game.

~~ Pio

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Imladris]

That would be great having Maethor observing Vanwe. Do you want me to edit my first post?

Imladris

[Ealasaid]

Thanks, Elora! Wow, that was quick!

Okay.. we are looking at a Monday start. Apparently, we are it in terms of writers. Elora, Snowdog, & Hilde are all talking about writing additional characters:
Elora - baddie
Snowdog & Hilde - Rangers
With a Monday start in mind, how about getting those Bios & first posts on the thread?

In the meantime, I will try to sort out the order of first posts. PM me if you have a specific order in mind or if you have a specific place where you would like your First Post to be. Thanks! (Elora - I saw your preferences with your edits.)

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[piosenniel]

If you are going to write extra characters - just do the Character Bio for them (and you can make it a brief one if they are secondary characters that will help carry the storyline along as needed, and not major characters like your other ones.)

You don't need a first post for them - just wait until the appropriate time to bring them in.

And please - at the beginning of all your posts (you with multiple characters, that is) please put the character(s) you are focusing on in the post.

[Ealasaid]

Due to a problem with my account, I will no longer be writing under the name Ealasaid. I will be continuing under the name EALASAIDE. This will be my last post under this name. Sorry for any confusion!

[Elora]

Imladris, no need to edit unless you feel it's strictly necessary. I just thought I'd toss in the option should you spot it and wonder. smilies/smile.gif

Pio, I guess I just needed to clarify for when the posts are transferred across to the RP thread proper. Both my Naiore and Vanwe posts need to follow Snowdog's post for Hanasian. Sorry if I caused any confusion.

Thanks for the clarification on the additional character prep needed. I'll get the additional badie shaped up and here for you all to meet soon.

Ealsaid thanks for letting us know about the switch in user names. smilies/smile.gif

[Ealasaide]

Hi, again! Now I'm Ealasaide, Newly Deceased, as opposed to Ealasaid, Wight. smilies/tongue.gif
PM me at this name from now on. Thanks! smilies/biggrin.gif

[Snowdog]

Hey, who's the newbie???

Welcome Ealasaide to Barrow Downs. I hope you enjoy your time here and.. what??? Kaldir? Benia? Oh... Welcome again Ealasaid(e)! smilies/wink.gif

I will put the character up asap. Probably this weekend, and I will have a slight edit to do to my first post to make things clearer and will put Hanasían inside the Inn (if its not a problem). From what I see it wouldn't effect anyone elses posts any.

Happy writing everyone! smilies/smile.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Written in a rush, I hope the Bio is OK.
---------------------------------------------
For one of the Rangers needed-

NAME: Rauthain son of Hauthain


AGE: 88


RACE: of the Dúnedain faithful


GENDER: Male


WEAPONS sword, bow and knife of no historic or cultural significance.


APPEARANCE: Rauthain is a tall, broad shouldered man, and though his light brown hair is largely greyed with age, it falls over the shoulders of a back yet strong and unbent. Set in a wide face, above his thickly drooping mustache are pale piercing grey eyes and a long narrow nose, reminiscent of a bird of prey. Rauthain’s clothes are frayed and travel worn, their faded browns speckled with mud but well mended, his deep brown leather jerkin and boots mottled and scuffed from long service.


PERSONALITY: Patient and reserved by nature, Rauthain prefers a solitary life, frequently running messages or assuming sentinel duties. Calm and stoic he is valued among rangers for his restraint and endurance and can often be found traversing the wilds on foot.


STRENGTHS: Although a courageous fighter, Rauthain is noted for his talents of observation and ability to slip through enemy lines.


WEAKNESSES: Usually uncommunicative, Rauthain is prone to unexplainable bouts of great mental agitation, during which times he may seek diversion through conversation. Also basing himself almost exclusively in the northwest and that over many years, his expertise is limited beyond that region.


HISTORY: Not forthcoming regarding his personal history, little is known of Rauthain’s past, save that he was deeply effected by the death of his son Haubain, during the siege of Erebor, thereafter requesting missions of a lonelier nature, gathering information or tracking. Rauthain was himself relaying news of the fall of Isengard to King Brand at Ravenhill when he was caught up in the desperate conflict, fighting fiercely until the dark hoards slowly melted away at the news of their Lord’s defeat.


Passing through Imladris often on his travels, the ranger had made the acquaintance of the then young Maethor, and also had occasion to serve with briefly with Amandur. Most notably Rauthain was along side Hanasian and Kaldir at the Mitheithel’s headwaters at the time of Kaldir’s capture. News had reached him sometime afterward of Kaldir’s subsequent activities, but he dismissed them as rumors propagated by the by the enemy to further dishearten the descendants of the Edain. Surely, Kaldir had died at the hands of the fiend Naiore.


In the weeks immediately preceding this tale, Rauthain was in the desolate area around Ettenmoor, keeping watch over the mountain passes as part of the initial web of rangers sent out to protect the fledgling project to rebuild Annúminas.

The ranger sent to relieve him told of a well-founded report that Naiore was heading north, and the two speculated that she was intending some mischief in Annúminas or perhaps Carn Dûm. Much significance had been placed on the return of the scepter of Annúminas by elves and men alike, and what better time to lash out at the newly sprung hope of Arnor.


Rauthain, making use of his fellow ranger’s horse, rode hard to Amon Sûl to check in and make camp before taking the Great East Road toward Bree. Once there he intended to learn what he could of Naiore from those travelers lately come up The Old South Road.


Rauthain paused in a small village to acquire a fresh horse and a hot meal at the Forsaken Inn before continuing onward.

[Everdawn]

I am so sorry about not replying to posts guys! I was swamped with exams sooner thn i had expected.

Elora: Yes, that sounds fine to me. Do what you will with Avanill and his trading smilies/wink.gif .

[Elora]

smilies/eek.gif

My additional character profile will be coming soon! I promise! SO much to do, so little time.... why, let's waste some dithering about how much I have to do in so little time! smilies/wink.gif smilies/tongue.gif

WATCH THIS SPACE

Everdaen, why thankyou for being so agreeable. Feel free to let me know if something I do doesn't fit with your character. smilies/smile.gif

[Nerindel]

Yay! Amandur's not the old man anymore smilies/biggrin.gif

Can't wait to see Snowdog's ranger and Elora's baddie smilies/wink.gif

Hey Elasaide wouldn't it have been interesting to have Zasfal turn up smilies/evil.gif

[Ealasaide]

Nerindel - that would be interesting! Hmmm..you know I could make mention of Ahmad, too. After all, Benia is Painted Sand. smilies/wink.gif Ahmad would be her chieftain.

[ September 05, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

[Elora]

And introducing.... Barrold Ferney, all round nasty guy.


NAME: Barrold Ferney

AGE: 35

RACE: Man

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Barrold usually carries weapons that can be easily concealed, such as daggers, or his own fists. He has a sword but is not overly fond of using it, as a surprise blitz attack is his preferable form of fighting. He owns a crossbow, which he uses to hunt with, of dubious origin. Such weapons are usually favored by the Southrons, which are not held in high esteem in Bree or anywhere else.

{B]APPEARANCE[/B]:

Barrold is a swarthy Man. He has dark, wavy hair which he sweeps on one side to keep out of his face. It brushes his collar. He has an arrogant swagger and habitually suspicious cast to his face. Some describe him as ill-favored. His eyes are dark and his stature average. Barrold’s clothing is often shabby and his appearance unkempt. He wears rough brown breeches stuffed into his scuffed brown boots. His tunic is dark blue, over which he wears a brown leather jerkin.

PERSONALITY:

Barrold believes himself unfairly treated and persecuted in a cruel and uncaring world. From that, he believes the world at large owes him something. Obviously southron in heritage, there are few in Bree who will willingly deal with him. This justifies, in his opinion, his inclination to sell anything and anyone for the right price. He is little troubled by the finer moral niceties that plague others. His primary motive is to protect his own hide, followed closely by his obsession with wealth and social status. It is rare for Barrold to risk his life to acquire wealth, but if the prize is rich enough he will do so.

Barrold is devious and tenacious. He holds himself wronged and believes the world owes him recompense. Everything and everyone has a price. Barrold is ambitious and pragmatic. He does not waste his time on such things as loyalty, honor, trust or friendship. A loner, Barrold would sell himself if the gold was enough. Barrold has a sharp temper that flares on a short fuse. He can be violent, particularly when drunk or frightened.

STRENGTHS:
Barrold is a calculating individual. He anticipates the same sort of treachery from others that he himself would deal out. This means few can take Barrold by surprise. Unfettered by human attachments, Barrold can be merciless in his search for wealth. He is ideally suited to the dangerous world of treachery due to his own paranoid inclinations. Barrold believes everyone is out to get him.

He craves recognition and status and will openly and sycophantically attach himself to whomever he thinks can provide it to him. Once he has all he can take from the relationship, he’ll sell it out and look for another. Capricious, Barrold’s demeanor can shift and swing violently. He is unpredictable and untrustworthy. In his field, these are two qualities that have kept him alive.

Barrold is a master of dirty, sneaky fighting tactics. He does not fight fair or nice, which usually undoes an opponent with a higher mind or moral calibre.

WEAKNESSES:

Barrold finds it hard to make friends and form attachments. He does not understand family or love. He is frequently isolated and alienated even from his own temporary allies. He is insecure and convinced the world is coming to get him. Barrold does not like himself very much but is too unaware to realize it. He’s desperately unhappy with his life, but blames everyone else for the state it is in. Barrold has a weakness for ale, and once drunk is violent. He would be a rich man were it not for this vice. Women in particular are his downfall. They view him with contempt, and he hates them implacably, yet he cannot do without them. Barrold is secretly troubled and unsure of women and he dislikes them for the insecurity they inspire within him.
Barrold has a habit of over estimating his intelligence, status and influence, arising from his arrogance. He is racked with self-loathing and insecurity which he hides behind an ugly and proud façade. At heart, Barrold is a coward and a bully.

HISTORY:

Barrold is the cousin of Bill Ferney. Born in Bree, Barrold led a misspent youth much to the chagrin of the townsfolk and was known to be a troublemaker by the time he hit young manhood, much like his cousin. He was born into a poor family, on the outskirts of Bree. Just one of a gaggle of 10 children, his childhood was one of neglect, petty crime and general delinquency. What happened to his parents and siblings is unrecorded. At least one younger brother met with an untimely death which was attributed by rumor to either Bill, Barrold or Barrold’s father. Barrold lived in poverty, his family subsistence farmers when not engaged in other less salubrious activities.

Though his family was seen as lazy bad apples, Barrold was an industrious and energetic lad. He garnered himself an infamous record with the Sheriffs. Barrold gravitated to a group of local thugs, bored and looking for mischief. Bree was a small place, and Barrold felt himself destined for greater things. He always knew he was special. In his childhood group, Barrold was unpopular. He was quick to carry tales and when the group found themselves cornered, Barrold was one of the first to break. Barrold received little schooling. He was a bully and his parents saw little worth in such things as education for Barrold was already proving himself quite the entrepreneur.

He tagged along on Bill Ferney’s coat tails for as long as he could, taking service with Sauruman when he was merely 20 in the year 3018 of the Third Age. A henchman of Isengard, Barrold did reasonably well in his employ. However, once the power of Sauruman was broken, Barrold lacked the strength to stand any longer against the people of Bree. He soon relented when things started to look grim in 3019 and then openly abandoned his employer. Bill Ferney had already disappeared by that time, and his ends are shrouded in mystery. It is not widely known that his cousin, Barrold, did him in when Bill threatened to sell Barrold to the Rangers over a quarrel regarding the divvying of the gold being exacted from the local Bree farmers and business folk. Bill was unceremoniously dumped in a shallow grave after Barrold knocked the back of his head in whilst Bill dozed in drunken stupor one evening. Thus, Barrold managed to survive in Bree, not betrayed by his cousin as one of Saruman’s spies, once the War of the Ring ended.

Barrold slipped back into petty crime. He was destitute and homeless, and appropriated an abandoned derelict farm house on the southern outskirts of Bree. When goods went missing, the farm house was routinely searched and the goods returned. Few were willing to employ Barrold, being and unreliable and untrustworthy sort. The only way Barrold could get enough coin to pay for his vices was to continue in his underworld profession. Barrold was quick to see the commercial profit to be gained by acting as a conduit for outlaws.

Realizing that they were lower down the food chain than even him, Barrold was quick to exploit his skills. The farmhouse sometimes held characters more dubious than Bill or Barrold Ferney had ever been. Usually, these were lower end escapees of the widening net for agitants and agents of Mordor and Isengard. In return for accommodation, supplies, information and equipment, Barrold charged a hefty price that was extortionate even amongst his peers. His reputation spread amongst those who were in need of his safe house. Barrold was not averse to selling his clients out if the bounty was more than what they’d pay, or if he was scared.

The bolt hole was empty on the night Barrold first encountered Naiore Dannan. He knew of her only by reputation and even that was vague. Few voluntarily spoke of the Ravennor even amongst the circles of Mordor and Isengard. Barrold had heard of her towards the end of the Third Age, when it was said that Sauron had put Naiore onto Saruman and his allies for Saruman’s failure and treachery. Drunk and weaving his way home late one night, the Elf woman was waiting for him. Once the initial terror had passed, for Barrold had thought a most terrible death had come, he managed to sober up enough to strike a deal with the Ravennor of Mordor. She was vastly wealthy and was in need of his services. Aware of the bounty on her head, Barrold. More so, Barrold was aware of what would happen if he did not agree.

Barrold is both fascinated with Naiore Dannan and hates her. It is a reaction that amuses the Elf. She taunts him with it and uses his hatred as yet another bind around his will. If he is caught aiding her, he is likely to meet the noose himself. Yet, Naiore has need of some interesting assistance. Poisons, for example, maps and information on interesting personages. Whilst ever the danger is less than his profit, Barrold. It raises his status immeasurably to have such a patron of her rank. However, should the danger become intolerable, Barrold is as foolhardy as to think he could successfully outmaneuver the Ravennor in order to claim the bounty. Barrold’s only ally is treachery. It has occurred to Barrold that should he master the Ravennor, he could rise to be even more influential than perhaps Bill or any of the other Ruffians had been.

So, we have a near psychopath, of limited intelligence but vast cunning, with a troubled childhood and stoat's survival instinct.

Is Barrold nasty enough?

[piosenniel]

Elora - Delectably nasty . . . smilies/evil.gif

For all: I'll be out of town until late Sunday Night. If you have your list of posts ready by then, I'll place them on the locked RPG thread and open it for play for you on Monday.

_____________________________________________

WHO'S WHO

Planners' Main Characters
Kaldir - Man (Ealasaide)
Benia Nightshade - Man (Ealasaide)
Lespheria - Elf (Nerindel)
Amandur - Man (Nerindel)
Naiore - Elf (Elora)
Vanwe - Elf (Elora)
Menecin - Elf (Elora)
Hanasian - Man (Snowdog)
Gilly Banks - Hobbit (Hilde Bracegirdle)
_____________________________________________

Additional Main Characters

Rangers
Maethor (Imladris)
Rauthain (Hilde Bracegirdle)
? ? (Snowdog)


Shady Underworld Types
Avanill (Everdawn)
Barrold Ferney (Elora)
_____________________________________________

NCE's (Non Controlled Entities) - may be used by all players as needed

Elladan, Elrohir, Celeborn - need to be used carefully and presented with accuracy since they are actual Tolkien characters
_____________________________________________

Staff of the Forsaken Inn

Cook - Aldarida Boffin
Server & maid - Rowana Brandybuck
Kitchen assistant & maid - Amarantha Willow
Stablemaster/handyman – Dervorin
Innkeeper - Fimbriel

[Nerindel]

Yes! very nasty indeed Elora smilies/evil.gif

How does this posting list look to everyone?

EloraI wasn't sure where Menecin's post should go, but as his character isn't promenient until we draw near Rivendell, I thought that it would be best to keep his post till last, but if you think it should be higher up the list let me know. smilies/biggrin.gif


1. Lespheria's post
2. Amandur's post
3. Benia's post
4. Kaldir's post
5. Gilly's post
6. Hanasian's post
7. Naiore's post
8. Vanwe's post
9. Maethor's post
10. Avanill's post
11. Menecin's post

Hmm... are the Additional characters going to have first posts?

[Ealasaide]

Great job, Nerindel -- That's exactly the order I was going to suggest!

Love your bad guy, Elora!

[piosenniel]

Shall I place the posts now?

I was thinking the secondary characters could simply come in as needed - or did you want a First Post from them also?

~~ Pio

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

I‘m trying to put together a first post for Rauthain placing him at the Inn before everyone leaves. Seems like a good place for him to join in since he is headed toward Bree, unless someone has other ideas or the Inn will feature in a second round of posts. Meanwhile, I will see if I can get this thing done during the weekend.

[Ealasaide]

Hilde - there's likely to be a few more posts yet around the inn, so don't feel rushed about the first post. Just place it when the game opens. I think you will have plenty of time.

Pio - yes, go ahead & place the posts on the thread. I see you already have Elora's opening post up there. Thanks! smilies/biggrin.gif

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Game Now Open For Play ~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please remember to remove your signatures from every game post.

Please identify which character you are writing for when you post (that is, of course, unless you are only writing for a single character).

___________________________________________

Hilde (and anyone for that matter) - if you need a post placed just leave it here on the discussion thread. PM me as a reminder, telling me the name of the gamer you want it laced AFTER, and the time and date of the gamer's post.

[piosenniel]

Bringing this forward:

Here is the outline of the story, taken from the last working draft of Ealasaid:

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

ACT 1: At the Forsaken Inn

Lespheria departs, leaving Amandur at the inn, where he remains in the hopes of finding out where Naiore is.
Naiore & Vanwe meet somewhere near the inn.
Kaldir captures Gilly, who is trying to rescue Benia.
Hanasian returns to the inn from Bree.
2 Shady Underworld Types arrive at the inn. (Or they may already be there -- writer‘s choice.)
2 New Rangers arrive at the inn, meeting Amandur and Hanasian.

ACT 2: Meetings & Departures

Kaldir returns to the woods, where he had earlier sensed an ominous presence, and discovers that it is indeed Naiore. He picks up her trail.
Naiore & Vanwe fall in together.
Hanasian & Amandur also learn of Naiore's presence by chance, intuition, or whispered rumor.
Having been intercepted and turned back by a messenger from her twin brother, Lespheria returns to the inn, where she rejoins Amandur.
Hanasian joins forces with the other two (as yet unnamed) Rangers.
Hearing somehow of Naiore’s presence, the Underworld Types decide to seek her out, leaving the inn before the others.
The rest of them depart (in separate groups) in pursuit of Naiore.
Gilly and Benia accompany Kaldir as his prisoners (sort of).

Act 3: Intrigue

Naiore & Vanwe take up with the two Shady Underworld Types
The Hunters & the Hunted all stalk each other a bit. There are run-ins & confrontations as Naiore attempts to take out her pursuers by whatever means she has at her disposal.
Gilly & Benia try to decide whether to assist Kaldir, escape from him, or attempt to redeem him.
Hanasian catches up with Kaldir.

Act 4: The Noose Tightens

With Rangers and bounty hunters closing in, Naiore changes her focus from killing the Rangers to pursuing Menecin, using any and all means to conceal her path.
The Rangers (all of them) and Lespheria ride together.
Shady characters start to realize Naiore may be setting them up for a fall and so plot against her.
Gilly & Benia manage to free themselves or Kaldir loosens his grip as he becomes increasingly focused on the hunt for Naiore.

Act 5: End Game

Naiore makes her attempt to kill Menecin. She fails & flees to the south, deserting Vanwe to her fate.
Naiore tries to take down anyone she can as she attempts to escape the closing trap.
The shady characters make their move against Naiore, either on their own or together.
Naiore is trapped somewhere near the Gladden Fields, where she is either captured or slain.

[Nerindel]

Yay! Thanks Pio smilies/biggrin.gif

Léspheria's next post is up smilies/wink.gif Amandur's will follow shortly smilies/biggrin.gif

[Snowdog]

Ha! Hanasían got his post in before Amandur! I used him a bit in my post, so I hope it didn't mess your post up. You can write from the time you enter the Inn as well. You dont have to start where I have Amandur.

Anyway, here we go! I will do my dangdest to stay atop this for I am excited about this one!

Oh, I hope my descriptuion of the Inn was ok. smilies/smile.gif

Edit: Pio, I have a wierd request (if nobody objects)...
Could you use the http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon7.gif icon for our RP thread? It would help these old eyes find it easily among all the swords. Thanks!

[ September 06, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Elora]

A woman with blonde curls is bouncing excitedly, wide smile on her face and her hands clapping, until she is shushed by a disapproving chorus. "SHHHSSSSSSSSSS," they admonish her. She stops bouncing and clapping but the grin remains undimmed. One of the chorus rolls her eyes at the others and turns her back. Naiore says to Menecin, Barrold and Vanwe, "I did say from the outset we needed to get ourselves a better writer. What sort of conduit is she?"

Naiore indicated behind her to the smiling woman, who ignored the others blithely, as she peered past them to the others.


Good request, Snowdog, even if it is a bit weird! smilies/wink.gif

Time for me to skedaddle to the RP and post! YIPPEE! HIP HIP HOORAY! WOOOOHOOOOOOO!

"SHHHSSSSSSSS" came the heated responde from her companions. The woman waved her hand at them in dismissal and danced off to the Role Play thread with an impish scamper. "I think you're right," said Barrold, "But where will we find another writer now? It's too late."

[Nerindel]

Hey! Turn my back for two minute's(Ok two hours) and not one but two Sneaky rangers slip in there smilies/tongue.gif

But seriously no worries, I had hoped to have the post finished before you guys came in but my youngest woke up crying and I had to go sit with her till she went back to sleep. But anyway I'm back now and I will Edit Amandur's post to fit, see ya soon smilies/biggrin.gif

[ September 07, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[piosenniel]

I live to serve! smilies/wink.gif

The Game and the Discussion now are marked with: http://forum.barrowdowns.com/ubb/icons/icon7.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Pio- I think I'm going to wind up adding Rauthain's intial post mixed in the flow of things, if it's OK.

Had a descent post ready but it needs major reworking since Devorin is now inside the inn. Should have posted it yesterday.... I will have to figure something else out if I have time.

Ealasaide- Sorry if Gilly is holding up Benia and Kaldir.

It is going to be a busy week for this hobbit! smilies/tongue.gif

EDIT: Yeah! Got Rauthain done, now for Gilly.

[ September 07, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Snowdog]

Ok, I posted again as the Rangers are agthered about the table. I made mention of Avanill in my post, and put it in a note so there was no mistaking. I will edit later after thew writing gets on some. There is alot to cover, and I need to go back to the Green Dragon part 4, about page 8 or so to recap all that went on there.

Oh, thanks Pio for the icon. It does make it easier for me to spot in a glance at the threads, and I hope it will stand that our little story will meet the standards of the fine professor. smilies/smile.gif

I will try and stay cought up each night (Im in Pacific USA timezone) so there atre no delays on my part.

Happy writing everyone!

[Nerindel]

EalasaideAmandur has finally remembered who Kaldir is thanks to Hanasian smilies/biggrin.gif and I have posted Amandur's memory of finding him in the pits of Barad-dûr, ok!

[piosenniel]

*sound of a satisfied sigh . . .

Two cups of coffee later, and I have read this very promising story through to its most recent post.

As Snowdog said: Happy writing everyone!

And Happy Reading, for me!

Your addicted peruser . . .

~~ Pio

[Ealasaide]

Mercy! You guys are quick!!! smilies/eek.gif

Ealasaide the Snail will be posting just as soon as I get caught up with all these new posts!

[Elora]

Haven't enjoyed a RP like this for a long while! smilies/smile.gif


Naiore, put down that snail! It's not for eating! That's Ealasaide! smilies/wink.gif

[Imladris]

I've finally gotten around to reading the posts in the Green Dragon Inn Part Four and they make everything so much easier to understand...the character seem so much more real, you know? Yes, I know, Maethor isn't supposed to know yet.

[Elora]

Glad that some more light onto the matter has been thrown for you, Imladris. Have to say, if you were indeed posting "in the dark" you've done an impressive job. Maethor is a wonderful character. smilies/smile.gif


Something I mentioned Nerindel in a P.M is a decision concerning Vanwe's opinion of her mother and father.

Given all that Vanwe has endured, I thought it unlikely that she would have done so if she truly believed all that is said of her parents. Vanwe will have built up an idealised version of her parents to comfort her in the Haradwaithe. There was nothing else to offer ease for the conditions she experienced there aside from her own internal "world".

Vanwe will be experiencing a classic conflict between what her mind tells her and what her heart wishes to be true. Namely, Vanwe wishes for her mother to be a loving one and her father to be alive. However, all the information she has points to another situation entirely.

I figure that this makes sense for her back story as well as facilitating the forward plot. It answers why she would have bothered to incur the wrath of the Southrons in order to seek only more woe. It will make it easier for Naiore to lull her daughter also.

Naiore does not lie outright, but she does hint and use ambigious statements that she knows will be interpreted however the listener's wishes. With a combination of "beautiful" deception and circumstance, Naiore will be able to lure Vanwe away and keep her compliant longer than by use of force. Obviously, though, Vanwe has to realise the truth and she will have her doubts. She's not a complete fool, and Naiore cannot maintain a guise of traditional loving mother indefinately.

Vanwe will realise that her mother is as terrible as all say, perhaps Menecin will be the final straw that breaks her internal wishful thinking - don't know yet. But the extent of betrayal at that point will be massive enough to act as impetus for Vanwe to take action and pursue her mother for a reckonning. In fact, it may be the first time Vanwe was ever truly angry in her life. (Hmmm, gotta figure out how that will work).

Of course, she also has the challenge of forging alliances with those she does not trust entirely yet - which is largely the entire known and unknown world. That's another issue I have to think about.

Such is her fear of authority figures, Rangers included, that it would make it extraordinarily difficult for her to set that aside and trust them. Therefore she would need something extraordinary to impel her to do so... perhaps a beginning of a bond with a Ranger that is interrupted by Naiore's removal of Vanwe.

I suspect she'll come to trust Amandur over time, particularly with Lespheria's influence. Maethor and Rauthain she may be able to trust more readily in the right circumstances, as neither have had the opportunity to ask her the sorts of questions that Vanwe finds lands her in a prison somewhere for further interrogation.

Hanasian she already has an unusually close (for Vanwe) bond with, but that could be tested when he tells her of her mother. Also Vanwe has a growing bond with Lespheria and a lesser one with Benia and Gilly (she's undecided about both - friend or foe or both?).

Menecin will frighten the living daylights out of her... he frightens the living daylights out of himself... it would take Vanwe a very long time to even dare speak to Elladan or Elrohir. So too does Kaldir...

For Vanwe, survival will be based on her ability to make the right decisions about who to trust.

Just thought that would help when trying to plan how Vanwe might react to your character. Menecin is unpredictable, but right now is only reacting to the voices in his head. Naiore will either kill you or decide to truss you up for later sport. Barrold, well Barrold will try to sell you something or alternatively sell you.

Any more characters to predict???? I've lost track

[Nerindel]

*Claps hand excitedly*

Great posts everyone! smilies/biggrin.gif

Anyway as I read over the posts I noticed that Léspheria's post is a little out of place (time wise). So when we reach morning in the Rpg I will move it, just so it fits better. Ok smilies/wink.gif

Also just so everyone know's, I don't see Léspheria returning to the inn until the following night. smilies/smile.gif

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

We are doing rather good here aren't we! I know I'm hooked. smilies/biggrin.gif

Gilly's post will have to take place close to dawn, so if anyone has a mind to change the time please give warning here. I don't want to post her yet as I feel the night is progressing rather well!

[Imladris]

Well, I wasn't posting totally in the dark...more in the twilight. I had read and re-read the bios and history, but it never made sense to me how Lespheria and Amandur, etc. all fit in with Naiore and that, of course, was answered in the Green Dragon.

As I was walking today, it occured to me that when they leave the Inn and the skirmishes are going on, that Maethor would probably be easy prey for Naiore for a few reasons:
1. He is young for a ranger.
2. He resists the thought that an Elf could turn to evil ways.
3. Well, he is rather naieve sometimes. smilies/rolleyes.gif

This doesn't mean that I want him killed...just a thought.

[Snowdog]

Ok, I posted. Hope its understandable as I was pounding the keys here with much distractions...
("Dad, can I have the computer when your done?"
'No, you need to go to bed as you have school in the morning.'
"But you have to work tomorrow, and you have to get up earlier than me..."
'Go To Bed!!!')
"OK!!!" Teenagers... smilies/rolleyes.gif my own that is. No offense meant toward any in this present company. smilies/wink.gif

Anyway, I tried to touch on all that has gone on, and I took Hanasían up to await Amandur, and will wait til sunrise to post again. I look forward to reading everyone elses night posts!

Imladris, your character is great! Actually every character is great! So much diversity here. This is bringing back the joys of my RP days of yesteryear!

[ September 10, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Elora]

Wish I could do as well in shaping my posts as others here ( Snowdog and Imladris )


At any rate, I plan to keep Vanwe in Lespheria's rooms until the wee hours of the morn. She will then attempt to get out to the stables, feeling somewhat guilty about squatting in another's rooms.

Naiore, naturally, will use that opportunity well - provided this meets with everyone else's arrangements.

Snowdog & Nerindel, Easalaide could you please let me know if your characters need to interact or sight either Naiore or Vanwe before mother and daughter meet. I don't want to skip too far ahead in one post and ruin your own ideas and plans.

Imladris, your observations are duly noted by one Naiore Dannan, Ravennor of Mordor. smilies/evil.gif