[Novnarwen]

Hi! This looks like a very nice game. I would like to apply for the Slave of Mordor. I see now that someone has already applied for the position, but as I had already written half the bio and post, I'll post anyway. (Fordim, I tried PMing you, but I going soon so I will post it here.)


Character Description Form: Applying for the Slave of Mordor

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

Yes. I have played in the following: Hunt for the Dragon, Corsairs and Corsets, Breelanders All!, Flight from Rohan and Setting Sails for Valinor.

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?

List them, please: I’m currently in Defense of the Poros and Search for Rhûn.
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For your character please include:

NAME: Rhând (Raaaan)

AGE: 26

RACE: Southron (Haradrim)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: None at the moment, but his own cleverness. He used to have quite a collection of knives though, which he was very proud of.

APPEARANCE: His mother was a Gondorian. She was held imprisoned in Near Harad. At the time she was freed, she had nowhere to go as she didn’t know where she came from. She had been a prisoner for many years, but found comfort in a hurried marriage with a tired Haradrim soldier. Their son, Rhând inherited quite a few of the Gondorian features, but was of mind a Haradrim.
- Rhând has dark blond hair. Before he was taken to the Tower as a prisoner, it was short, and neatly cut. Now on the other hand, it's quite long and knitted into a pony-tail. His eyes are brown. The spirit he used to have is lost, but somewhere in there, there is spirit and hatred enough to shine through when the time comes. The months in the Tower has made him weary. Dark rings around his eyes make him look dangerous and grim. In the centre of his grim face, his nose is situated. It is big, and the tip points upwards. It looks crooked, as if belonged to an old man. To tell you the truth, it looks broken; a proof that he has been beaten many a time. Other bruises in his face are also visible, but most he has on his body. When being a free man, serving as a spy and a devoted servant of Sauron, he could afford proper clothes. You see, his jobs paid well. It is quite different now, as he is wearing nothing but filthy rags.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Rhând is clever, humorous and outgoing. Yet he is ignorant, quick to anger, forgetful and quite arrogant.
- Sometimes Rhând is too clever for his own good. He can actually seem quite dumb, because he is so ignorant about so many things. Blame the parents I say, but Rhând would rather not talk about his parents. He has quite a few bad memories, and would not like to share those with any outside his 'inner circle'. The inner circle, which he often talks about either when sleepwalking or when angry, is an unknown mystery. No one, who knows him, understands it. However, Rhând is yet likeable, even though his many flaws. His humour makes people laugh, even though much of his humour is at others' expense. Due to the fact that Rhând can easily bond with people, which has been an extremely good tool over the years, he has difficulties keeping friends. Quite a few times he is bored when being accompanied by the same people over a long period of time. This makes him restless, and arrogant in some ways. Rhând couldn't care less about other's people's wellbeing. This, I would say, is a result of his poor childhood. Rhând found himself too ignored, too little loved, and some of this made him the way he is today.

HISTORY: Born and raised in Near Harad, by the River Harnen. He lived great parts of his childhood with his mother, as his father was constantly gone on raids or whatever it was he was doing. His father came along now and then though, but brought always new women with him. By this, naturally, Rhând felt ignored, but he got used to this way of living. His mother was busy working. Often she was away for days, but brought money, and food at the table as she came home. Nevertheless, Rhând grew used to his empty existence, but started at the age of sixteen to search for something more. As a child, just in his teens, he was an easy prey for the older ones. They took advantage of him, making him do the dirty jobs they didn’t want. Soon however, he found himself going upwards in the "ranks", amongst the part criminal young men. He was clever and in that way useful. Mostly, Rhând stole information and spied, and delivered it eagerly to Sauron’s loyal servants. In this way, he also became known as a traitor of the free men. But as most Haradrim supported Sauron, he was fairly respected amongst his kind. It was only amongst Gondorians and such, he later discovered, that they were quite keen on catching him.

Anyway, “business” went quite well for a while. Information was an easy thing to steal, as it only had to be stored one place; in his head, but not hidden. Rhând even enjoyed giving all the info he got from Gondorians and etc. as they, who had spoken so openly to Rhând, had not the faintest idea that Rhând was passing on the info to their enemy. You see, Rhând had one advantage as also previously mentioned. He didn’t look very much like a Southron. His skin was not so dark as the most of his kind. Therefore, one could believe that he was from the south-western part of Gondor, and in that way he could easily either imitate a Gondorian ambassador to get info or just be there; right place at the right time with his ear well cleaned. For a long time this worked quite well, and Sauron’s loyal servants were happy to greet him whenever he came with new info for example about the Gondorian army's positions and their future plans. But what Rhând didn’t realise, was that a Gondorian ambassador had recognised him on two occasions. Naturally, this caused suspicions, and the ambassador’s suspicions were confirmed as a fellow ambassador suspected the same. As a result of this, Rhând was set up. The Gondorian ambassadors arranged a meeting, of where they pretended that they were seriously discussing tactics. They agreed upon something Rhând cannot quite remember (see under personality: forgetful ). However, he can remember that the info he passed on to Sauron's allies was completely wrong and could have led to a disastrous, maybe fatal, outcome. So that was when Rhând was taken by Sauron’s faithful servants and interrogated. As Rhând had passed false information, he was naturally suspected of being in the lead with the Gondorians; therefore, a traitor.

Trying to explain himself that someone had probably set him up, he was brutally tormented and forced to tell a lie, about how he really worked for Gondor. Being too precious to kill in that case, he was sent to the Tower of Cirith Ungol, of where he has been a prisoner for the last thirteen months.
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Novnarwen's post:

A four legged oblong thing came sneaking through the closed bars this morning. Yes, for it is believed that it was morning. It ran hurriedly after the smell, of which it had been eager to get closer to for a long time. It was a nasty smell, the smell of rot and dried blood. But this little creature didn't think it horrible at all. It came closer and closer, having its nose sticking up in the air, squeaking, trembling with curiosity. Its long, thick, tail could only just be seen as the dim light crept through the bars and into the square room. The tail made a whispering sound now and then, as it was dragged, quickly, over the stone floor. Suddenly, what it had been waiting for; there were movements in the corner. Its yellow eyes lit up, its mouth twitched and its tail slid more quietly along the floor. Not long now...

In the dark corner of the room, something was indeed moving. A steady movement it was, someone was breathing. Rags and old clothing covered what was beneath.

Finally, it was there! It ran, scraping its sharp nails on the floor, through a hole in the clothing. Sniffing, letting in the stank of rot, dried blood and sweat, it set its teeth into the flesh.

"OUCH!!!"

A voice, so loud that the bricks in the wall trembled, exploded from underneath the rags. The rags moved quickly from the ground, and a pair of feet could be spotted; a man arose. His face was pale and his eyes red and bleary. He was covered in sweat and dirt, this, making him look old and grim. The rings under his eyes showed the number of days, weeks and months he had staid here. His eyes looked desperately around. Cursing like mad, lifting a hand to where he had been bit, he discovered the creature crawling pettily towards the bars again. With gritted teeth and a malicious look in his face, he sprang over. As there was a crack, the man lifted his foot gently and laughed gruffly. "Never bite a sleeping man. Never!"

Rhând sat down, laid his head on the ground and stirred into the dead rat's eyes. The open wound the rat had left him, made him writhe with pain. "Darn you rat!" he said slowly, feeling the pain in his neck die away for a bit. "Where did you come from?" he smirked and paused. "Was it through the bars or was it elsewhere? Is there another way to get out of this hole?" he shuddered, biting his lip. He cursed the rat, the hole of a cell and all the servants of Sauron. How had he ended up here? He knew very well how, but he had difficulties coping with it anyhow. He cursed once more, loudly this time. Offering the dead rat one last look, filled with hatred that is, he rose to his feet and clapped his hands together. Thirteen months inside of this hole, it was too much! He clapped his hands together once more. Clever they are, the free men, he thought to himself. They must have known that he wasn't who he claimed to be, and set him up. He frowned. A year had passed and he didn't even know the truth about what had happened. He wasn't sure whether it was the Gondorians who had set him up or whether it was Sauron's faithful servants. He supposed it was the Gondorians though. "Those foul folk of free men!" He yelled and cursed. He should have known that day, when that ambassador had called him in for a meeting. The ambassador must have already known, Rhând was certain of it. Why else would that filthy Gondorian have smirked so annoyingly at him that day? He clapped once more, jumped up and down, dancing. He broke into a song; which touched every aspect of his life now and what it had been before. He grabbed the dead rat, held it in is tail, and swung it in the air.

Some would call him crazy, but the months locked up in the cell had made him different from what he had been like. From the very first day he had been brought to the Tower, or rather; from the day he had been interrogated, Rhând had been tortured. He usually screamed, asked for mercy or tried again to tell the truth about being set up, but this only made it more enjoyable for his interrogaters. However, as Rhând got to know their ways of tormenting, he was more aware and tried to make friends with his keepers. Sometimes, he found it good fun to learn about their miserable lives, even though they probably never spoke the truth. By doing this, he also made them forget about him, as they all believed he was both crazy and harmless.

"This is good fun," he muttered to himself, still having the rat in his left hand, swinging it back and forwards. But he was interrupted by a terrible uproar. He cast himself to the floor, slightly afraid that they were coming to get him. What was he supposed to tell them today? He wondered. He had already listened to their pathetic lives; he would have to figure out something new, creative. Maybe the torture would stop completely then. He lay down, covered his head with his rags, casting the rat towards the bars. Rhând focused, trying to hear what was going on. There was shouting, no; roars, coming from .... somewhere. Rhând even got the odd feeling of whoever it that was shouting, weren't coming his way. He frowned; almost disappointed that no one was visiting. It was after all quite lonely staying here day after day in this dark hole.

A few minutes had passed, when at last Rhând realised that someone was coming. He cursed, and regretted that he had even thought that some of these nasty, treacherous creatures, could be good company. He curled together on the floor, making himself look small; hoping that whoever came by, would just leave again; thinking that it was just an empty cell. He spent his mucles, in case they would burst into the room and grab him. He felt the bite on his neck burn with pain, and he cursed the inner circle, before letting out a sigh.

"Anyone there?"

A voice from the other side of the bars muttered silently. Of course, Rhând heard the whisper quite well, but grew uncertain about what to answer. This did not at all sound like the voice of the orcs who guarded the Tower or any other he had got to know through the torturing. Gritting his teeth, he realised that if it was indeed someone else, something terribly wrong was at hand in the Tower. How could possibly a normal man or woman, who weren't prisoners, walk freely around in the Cirith Ungol? Unless.... they were prisoners, he thought.

Next thing he knew, he was out of the cell, trotting behind a man he had never seen before; named Grash.





*****

That was it. I'm happy to edit if there is anything.

Cheers,
Nova