The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Assigned to Mordor Planning/Discussion Thread

Encaitare · 11-07-2005, 10:31 PM

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – yes, Sailing Away, Red Flows the Sirannon

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? – one, Red Flows the Sirannon

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon or The White Horse Inn – yes

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Encaitare's character

NAME: Wilhelmina Brochenbach (with ach-Lauts and not K's, if you please please)

AGE: 72

RACE: human

GENDER: female

WEAPONS: a large walking-stick with a brass handle, garishly shaped as a light mayonnaise jar out of pure spite. It actually holds her secret stash of licorice.

APPEARANCE: Wilhelmina is on the short side, and has become rather thickset in her old age. She wears many skirts and petticoats of varying color and quality, and still wears a corset over her oversized shirt to keep her back straight, and remind her of the good old days. A large black hat is balanced precariously atop her grey head. Sometimes a whiskered little nose pops out from behind the feathers and fake flowers of the hat to say hello.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: She retains a fair share of stubbornness from her youth, and has certainly not mellowed with age. She is not easily shaken, but she still gets a bit touchy whenever she hears anything about carbonated beverages. Most people think that all the time spent in Mordor has addled her brains a bit, so they tend to avoid her. Her pet ferret is therefore her closest friend.

HISTORY:Born in FA 581, Wilhelmina was growing up at just the time that Anakronisms were zapping themselves into Gondor at an alarming rate. She was a rebellious, outspoken sort of teen who made a point to speak Anakronisms all the time at home because it made her mother nervous. As a young woman, she was very attractive, and also very fixed upon keeping herself that way. Some of the Anakronisms she had found were actually good, she decided, a blasphemous thought according to the king. But she really loved the boned corset and huge boots that had mysteriously materialized in her backyard one day, and it seemed worth the risk since the sexy outfit she’d put together would most certainly make the object of her affections notice her.

One summer night, she and some girlfriends went to a tavern on the fourth level of Minas Tirith to see if the cute bartender Wilhelmina liked was there. A long cloak concealed the outlandish outfit. To her disappointment, the cute bartender was absent, and replaced by one who just wasn't very cute at all. He smiled greasily at her and her friends.

"What can I get for you, ladies?" he asked. Wilhelmina wrinkled her nose ever so slightly and asked for a Coke.

The barman looked around anxiously. There had been problems about ordering carbonated beverages, as they could be tied in with Anakronisms if one wasn't careful. The fact that she was pretty was probably the only thing that was keeping him from reporting her, she thought. He lowered his voice. "What kind, miss?"

"What?" she said, staring at him blankly.

He looked even more skittish. "What kind of coke would you like?"

Something clicked and she understood. "Listen," she said, irritated. "When I say coke, I mean a COKE, and NOT any OTHER kind of soda. A coke is a Coke is a Coca-forking-Cola!"

The man appeared to be on the verge of madness at her outburst, which had drawn some attention. "She spoke an Anakronism!" he shrieked for the whole tavern to hear. "She's making trouble with carbonated beverage terminology!"

A group of guards in the corner of the tavern rose from their table. "What's your name, missy?" one asked.

"Wilhelmina Brochenbach," she replied, glaring at the men.

"Oh ho!" one exclaimed. "That name sounds like German to me!" He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. "It's most definitely off to Mordor with you, missy," one of them growled.

"Get your hands off me, you brutes!" she cried, realizing that her huge boots served another purpose: toe-crushing. The guard howled, but the others grabbed her by the arms from behind and she was unable to reach them. The pin holding the cloak shut broke, and it fell away, revealing the blasphemous getup.

"What's that she's wearing?!" the injured guard raged. "More Anakronisms! You'll be in Mordor for a long time, you, and I’m not sorry of it either!"

Thus Wilhelmina Brochenbach came to dwell in the Black Land. After a time, the blisters from the giant boots made the footwear too much to bear. She tried to date, but all the men spat on the ground for no apparent reason, and only wanted to go out to bowling alleys. So Wilhelmina resigned herself to being a bachelorette, and invited a furry animal – a ferret named Mr. Swanky – to dwell in an excellent hat she’d found and keep her company.

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Encaitare's post

"Oh, very well, Mr. Swanky. You may have some licorice even if it's not quite lunchtime yet." The old woman unscrewed the cap from the handle of her walking-stick and removed a licorice whip. She broke a little piece off the end and appeared to feed it to her garish hat.

"Daddy, look, that lady is giving her hat lunch!" a small girl noted, tugging on her father's sleeve.

The man took a look and said to his daughter, "Never you mind, hon. That's just old Wilhelmina Brokenback. She's crazy."

Luckily, Wilhelmina was a bit deaf and didn’t hear the exchange; otherwise the man would have gotten a smart whack with her walking-stick for calling her crazy and mispronouncing her name in the same breath. Instead, she slowly chewed the rest of the licorice herself, waiting for the selection of names to begin. If anyone deserved to get out of Mordor, she did. She'd been in the wretched land for more than fifty years, and although she'd gotten used to it, it would be nice to live in a place where speeding drivers didn't try to mow her down on her way to the corner store. Yet she had dwelt there for so long that she felt quite patient to wait for the names to be drawn. What were a few more minutes compared to the years already gone?

Around her, people were chatting excitedly. "The first thing I'm going to do if I get out of here..." was the phrase that was flying about. One shrill voice cut through the din; "Wrinkle-Away Skin Firming Solution! Take ten years off your face instantly!"

"'S that Panakeia loony again," Wilhelmina muttered to herself. "If you ask me, she could use some of that face cream stuff herself. Not that I'm one to talk, of course," she added, as though someone had called her hypocritical.

Suddenly, the crowd hushed as the Grand Anakronist stepped forth and cleared his throat. He announced that it was time to choose the lucky few who would comprise the Offending Party. Hundreds of eyes watched as the ATM rose from the ground, and everyone seemed to hold his (or her) breath as the transactions were completed.

"Alumìn-E Umfuìl," Anakron read. A pretty young girl pushed her way forward, griping about how he’d said her name wrong. "Panakeia of Harad," he continued. The saleswoman joined the first girl at Anakron’s side. The machine spat out a third card. The man squinted at it for a moment, and then read, "Wilhelmina Brochenbach."

Wilhelmina grinned and made her way to the front. "Good man!" she said jovially. "Got the ach-Lauts and everything! Did you hear that, Mr. Swanky? We’re going to get out of here!"

11-07-2005, 10:31 PM	#25
Encaitare Bittersweet Symphony Join Date: Jul 2004 Location: On the jolly starship Enterprise Posts: 1,814	My character and first post! Character Description Form: 1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – yes, Sailing Away, Red Flows the Sirannon 2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? – one, Red Flows the Sirannon 3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon or The White Horse Inn – yes ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Encaitare's character NAME: Wilhelmina Brochenbach (with ach-Lauts and not K's, if you please please) AGE: 72 RACE: human GENDER: female WEAPONS: a large walking-stick with a brass handle, garishly shaped as a light mayonnaise jar out of pure spite. It actually holds her secret stash of licorice. APPEARANCE: Wilhelmina is on the short side, and has become rather thickset in her old age. She wears many skirts and petticoats of varying color and quality, and still wears a corset over her oversized shirt to keep her back straight, and remind her of the good old days. A large black hat is balanced precariously atop her grey head. Sometimes a whiskered little nose pops out from behind the feathers and fake flowers of the hat to say hello. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: She retains a fair share of stubbornness from her youth, and has certainly not mellowed with age. She is not easily shaken, but she still gets a bit touchy whenever she hears anything about carbonated beverages. Most people think that all the time spent in Mordor has addled her brains a bit, so they tend to avoid her. Her pet ferret is therefore her closest friend. HISTORY:Born in FA 581, Wilhelmina was growing up at just the time that Anakronisms were zapping themselves into Gondor at an alarming rate. She was a rebellious, outspoken sort of teen who made a point to speak Anakronisms all the time at home because it made her mother nervous. As a young woman, she was very attractive, and also very fixed upon keeping herself that way. Some of the Anakronisms she had found were actually good, she decided, a blasphemous thought according to the king. But she really loved the boned corset and huge boots that had mysteriously materialized in her backyard one day, and it seemed worth the risk since the sexy outfit she’d put together would most certainly make the object of her affections notice her. One summer night, she and some girlfriends went to a tavern on the fourth level of Minas Tirith to see if the cute bartender Wilhelmina liked was there. A long cloak concealed the outlandish outfit. To her disappointment, the cute bartender was absent, and replaced by one who just wasn't very cute at all. He smiled greasily at her and her friends. "What can I get for you, ladies?" he asked. Wilhelmina wrinkled her nose ever so slightly and asked for a Coke. The barman looked around anxiously. There had been problems about ordering carbonated beverages, as they could be tied in with Anakronisms if one wasn't careful. The fact that she was pretty was probably the only thing that was keeping him from reporting her, she thought. He lowered his voice. "What kind, miss?" "What?" she said, staring at him blankly. He looked even more skittish. "What kind of coke would you like?" Something clicked and she understood. "Listen," she said, irritated. "When I say coke, I mean a COKE, and NOT any OTHER kind of soda. A coke is a Coke is a Coca-forking-Cola!" The man appeared to be on the verge of madness at her outburst, which had drawn some attention. "She spoke an Anakronism!" he shrieked for the whole tavern to hear. "She's making trouble with carbonated beverage terminology!" A group of guards in the corner of the tavern rose from their table. "What's your name, missy?" one asked. "Wilhelmina Brochenbach," she replied, glaring at the men. "Oh ho!" one exclaimed. "That name sounds like German to me!" He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. "It's most definitely off to Mordor with you, missy," one of them growled. "Get your hands off me, you brutes!" she cried, realizing that her huge boots served another purpose: toe-crushing. The guard howled, but the others grabbed her by the arms from behind and she was unable to reach them. The pin holding the cloak shut broke, and it fell away, revealing the blasphemous getup. "What's that she's wearing?!" the injured guard raged. "More Anakronisms! You'll be in Mordor for a long time, you, and I’m not sorry of it either!" Thus Wilhelmina Brochenbach came to dwell in the Black Land. After a time, the blisters from the giant boots made the footwear too much to bear. She tried to date, but all the men spat on the ground for no apparent reason, and only wanted to go out to bowling alleys. So Wilhelmina resigned herself to being a bachelorette, and invited a furry animal – a ferret named Mr. Swanky – to dwell in an excellent hat she’d found and keep her company. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Encaitare's post "Oh, very well, Mr. Swanky. You may have some licorice even if it's not quite lunchtime yet." The old woman unscrewed the cap from the handle of her walking-stick and removed a licorice whip. She broke a little piece off the end and appeared to feed it to her garish hat. "Daddy, look, that lady is giving her hat lunch!" a small girl noted, tugging on her father's sleeve. The man took a look and said to his daughter, "Never you mind, hon. That's just old Wilhelmina Brokenback. She's crazy." Luckily, Wilhelmina was a bit deaf and didn’t hear the exchange; otherwise the man would have gotten a smart whack with her walking-stick for calling her crazy and mispronouncing her name in the same breath. Instead, she slowly chewed the rest of the licorice herself, waiting for the selection of names to begin. If anyone deserved to get out of Mordor, she did. She'd been in the wretched land for more than fifty years, and although she'd gotten used to it, it would be nice to live in a place where speeding drivers didn't try to mow her down on her way to the corner store. Yet she had dwelt there for so long that she felt quite patient to wait for the names to be drawn. What were a few more minutes compared to the years already gone? Around her, people were chatting excitedly. "The first thing I'm going to do if I get out of here..." was the phrase that was flying about. One shrill voice cut through the din; "Wrinkle-Away Skin Firming Solution! Take ten years off your face instantly!" "'S that Panakeia loony again," Wilhelmina muttered to herself. "If you ask me, she could use some of that face cream stuff herself. Not that I'm one to talk, of course," she added, as though someone had called her hypocritical. Suddenly, the crowd hushed as the Grand Anakronist stepped forth and cleared his throat. He announced that it was time to choose the lucky few who would comprise the Offending Party. Hundreds of eyes watched as the ATM rose from the ground, and everyone seemed to hold his (or her) breath as the transactions were completed. "Alumìn-E Umfuìl," Anakron read. A pretty young girl pushed her way forward, griping about how he’d said her name wrong. "Panakeia of Harad," he continued. The saleswoman joined the first girl at Anakron’s side. The machine spat out a third card. The man squinted at it for a moment, and then read, "Wilhelmina Brochenbach." Wilhelmina grinned and made her way to the front. "Good man!" she said jovially. "Got the ach-Lauts and everything! Did you hear that, Mr. Swanky? We’re going to get out of here!" Last edited by Encaitare; 11-08-2005 at 03:16 PM.