The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

Dain Ironfoot · 07-12-2003, 11:47 PM

Hey, Himaran. Remember me from Erebor? Here's my proposed profile and first post for the murderer. Are they alright?

BTW, anyone know how they execute people in Rohan? If the scaffolding's no good, let me know what you prefer.

I've given Fréa an extra motive for pinning things on Heldór that has to do with his ambitions. Hope this is OK.

Dain

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

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Which one? Road to Erebor

How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? none

Please note you may play in only 3 games at one time.

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Fréa Forgoil, the murderer

AGE: 35

GENDER: Male

RACE: Man, Rohirrim

WEAPONS:

He routinely carries a misericord, a narrow dagger used to deliver instantaneous death to an opponent already felled on the field of battle. On his right hip he bears a sidearm, a short utilitarian sword employed as a back-up when he finds himself in a jam. His chief weapon, however, is a heavy two-handed broadsword, a blade of considerable workmanship passed down in the Forgoil family from one generation to the next. Since his older brother Graitwa ran off when still young and only reappeared in the family sporadically, Fréa was regarded as the favored son, inheriting the fine sword once belonging to his ancestors. This mark of distinction, as well as the favoritism that underlies it, remains a constant source of friction between Fréa and his elder brother.

APPEARANCE:

Fréa is the most naturally distinguished of the siblings. Tall and muscular, he has reddish-brown hair that he wears pulled back and tied with a leather thong. His moustaches are long and wavy, his beard trimmed short and neat. Fréa takes great pains with his attire and appearance to impress those about him, especially his peers and superiors in the guards. His features are attractive in a rugged, masculine fashion. He has had more than his fair share of female admirers, young ladies of Gondor and Rohan won over by his handsome features and superficially winning ways who would willingly have importuned their families to set up a match. However, he has chosen to keep himself free until now, since he does not want anything to come between him and his chosen goal of attaining a position of authority within the King’s guards. Only when he has achieved this, will he pick a bride of suitable lineage and wealth who will carry him one step higher on the social ladder he hopes to climb.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

Much of the time, Fréa is careful to hide his ambition and short temper to anyone outside his family. However, he occasionally loses control and the results can be devastating. This is particularly true after he’s downed one too many drinks. He is not instinctively cruel, but can be so when it serves his purpose.

He does have a number of good traits. He is physically brave and adept with the sword. Unlike most of those he serves with, he fights with his head as well as his strong arm. He has an eye for tactics and understands the kind of influences and situations that motivate men. Unfortunately, he’s very cognizant of the fact that he has superior intelligence and tends to look down his nose at those whom he considers less generously endowed.

Despite his constant quarrels with his brothers, he has genuine affection for them, and sees himself as their protector. This is particularly true of his younger brother Archim. In some ways, it is his affection for his brothers which is the one thing protecting him against the corrupting influence of his overweening ambition. If he ever loses that sense of family loyalty, he will truly have lost the last remnant of his humanity and turned himself over to the service of the shadow.

HISTORY:

As has already been indicated, Fréa is not innately evil. But, over the years, his worldly ambitions have grown. He is frustrated that he is already thirty-five, yet is still struggling to rise above the rank of the common soldier. He is consumed by the desire to distinguish himself in the eyes of the world, to gain a position where he can control others and show that his brains and talents are superior to theirs. Passed over for promotion several times because of his explosive temper, he now resolves to let no one come between him and his intended goal.

Although he has kept it secret from his brothers, his choice of Haldor as a victim was not accidental or mere chance anger about gambling debts. Earlier that day, he had caught a glimpse of a list of recommended promotions for positions of command. At the top of the list stood Haldór’s name; his own appeared on the next line down in case Haldór should decline. While his slaying of Folca was not premeditated, his subsequent resolve to use the situation to his own advantage was more than coincidental. His fondest hope is that his rival Haldór will meet his death at the hands of the King’s authorities, but he will clearly step in to slay the man if he feels that his own self interest demands it.

FIRST POST:

Fréa stepped quietly into the cell and closed the door behind him. It was late in the evening; all the others on duty had already left except for old Balthor who was guarding the outside doors to the prison. Fréa could do or say anything he pleased to Haldór and there was no one to witness his actions or object.

Earlier that evening, he had seen Brytta stride into the cell block and talk privately with the prisoner. The two men had put their heads together in a conspiratorial fashion so that it was impossible for Fréa to hear what they were saying no matter how hard he strained. When he saw Brytta leaving the holding area, he’d gone up to the man and told him with a straight face and feigned sympathy in his voice that there was little help for his brother, and it was best if the family reconciled themselves to that reality and prepared for the worst. Brytta had not responded verbally, but had shot a vicious glance towards Fréa and clenched his fists quietly by his side.

As Fréa stepped inside carrying a torch to light the darkened cell, he glanced over towards the prisoner. “Not much longer,” he gazed steadily at Haldór. “I’ve been at these executions before. Usually, they come in the morning just before dawn to lead you out to execution. They place shackles on your legs, bind your arms, and blindfold you. Then, as you’re led down to the place where the scaffolding’s set up, the crowd will jeer and let you know how they feel about someone who murders an officer of the king. Such a pity you lost your temper and bludgeoned that poor man.”

Fréa acted as if he was about to turn aside and leave, then pivoted around at the last minute and spoke. His words did not hold a grain of truth, but then the prisoner had no way to know that. “By the way, there was something I needed to make sure and tell you. Oh, yes, I was with the commander today, and he mentioned that your brother Brytta was suspected of helping you hide the body. You know, the one who’s crippled. Someone denounced him, I believe. They’ll be charges prepared against him as well. Such a pity to see an entire family struck down. But then I guess you won’t need to worry about that since you won’t be here to visit him in prison.”

Fréa walked over to the shoddy, beaten mattress where Haldór was to sleep; the knight had taken off the chain he always wore round his neck and set it down nearby on the floor. The piece was a heavy silver chain of ornate workmanship with the insignia of the Hildeson family outlined on a golden crest. Woven in and about the frame of the crest were strands of silver hair, obviously from an older woman. Fréa reached down and fingered the piece of jewelry roughly, then picked it up and spoke with contempt, “What’s this? A family heirloom? And with your deceased mother’s lock of hair interwoven? Old Hilde of the famous Hildeson’s, the one who lost her life as Orcbait.”

Fréa lifted up the necklace and pulled out the misericord at his side, using its tip to strip out the strands of silver hair one-by-one. Then he held up the treasured locks near the flickering flame and watched as the fire totally consumed them. He halted for a moment to look over at Haldór and then pushed the jewelry deep inside his pocket. “We’ve got rules here. Prisoners aren’t allowed such trifles. This is mine by right. I don’t expect that you or your brother will need this back. See you in the morning.” Then he turned and left the cell.

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]

07-12-2003, 11:47 PM	#39
Dain Ironfoot Haunting Spirit Join Date: Jan 2003 Posts: 77	Hey, Himaran. Remember me from Erebor? Here's my proposed profile and first post for the murderer. Are they alright? BTW, anyone know how they execute people in Rohan? If the scaffolding's no good, let me know what you prefer. I've given Fréa an extra motive for pinning things on Heldór that has to do with his ambitions. Hope this is OK. Dain ******************************************** Character Description Form: Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Which one? Road to Erebor How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? none Please note you may play in only 3 games at one time. Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES – Which one? Green Dragon For your character please include: NAME: Fréa Forgoil, the murderer AGE: 35 GENDER: Male RACE: Man, Rohirrim WEAPONS: He routinely carries a misericord, a narrow dagger used to deliver instantaneous death to an opponent already felled on the field of battle. On his right hip he bears a sidearm, a short utilitarian sword employed as a back-up when he finds himself in a jam. His chief weapon, however, is a heavy two-handed broadsword, a blade of considerable workmanship passed down in the Forgoil family from one generation to the next. Since his older brother Graitwa ran off when still young and only reappeared in the family sporadically, Fréa was regarded as the favored son, inheriting the fine sword once belonging to his ancestors. This mark of distinction, as well as the favoritism that underlies it, remains a constant source of friction between Fréa and his elder brother. APPEARANCE: Fréa is the most naturally distinguished of the siblings. Tall and muscular, he has reddish-brown hair that he wears pulled back and tied with a leather thong. His moustaches are long and wavy, his beard trimmed short and neat. Fréa takes great pains with his attire and appearance to impress those about him, especially his peers and superiors in the guards. His features are attractive in a rugged, masculine fashion. He has had more than his fair share of female admirers, young ladies of Gondor and Rohan won over by his handsome features and superficially winning ways who would willingly have importuned their families to set up a match. However, he has chosen to keep himself free until now, since he does not want anything to come between him and his chosen goal of attaining a position of authority within the King’s guards. Only when he has achieved this, will he pick a bride of suitable lineage and wealth who will carry him one step higher on the social ladder he hopes to climb. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Much of the time, Fréa is careful to hide his ambition and short temper to anyone outside his family. However, he occasionally loses control and the results can be devastating. This is particularly true after he’s downed one too many drinks. He is not instinctively cruel, but can be so when it serves his purpose. He does have a number of good traits. He is physically brave and adept with the sword. Unlike most of those he serves with, he fights with his head as well as his strong arm. He has an eye for tactics and understands the kind of influences and situations that motivate men. Unfortunately, he’s very cognizant of the fact that he has superior intelligence and tends to look down his nose at those whom he considers less generously endowed. Despite his constant quarrels with his brothers, he has genuine affection for them, and sees himself as their protector. This is particularly true of his younger brother Archim. In some ways, it is his affection for his brothers which is the one thing protecting him against the corrupting influence of his overweening ambition. If he ever loses that sense of family loyalty, he will truly have lost the last remnant of his humanity and turned himself over to the service of the shadow. HISTORY: As has already been indicated, Fréa is not innately evil. But, over the years, his worldly ambitions have grown. He is frustrated that he is already thirty-five, yet is still struggling to rise above the rank of the common soldier. He is consumed by the desire to distinguish himself in the eyes of the world, to gain a position where he can control others and show that his brains and talents are superior to theirs. Passed over for promotion several times because of his explosive temper, he now resolves to let no one come between him and his intended goal. Although he has kept it secret from his brothers, his choice of Haldor as a victim was not accidental or mere chance anger about gambling debts. Earlier that day, he had caught a glimpse of a list of recommended promotions for positions of command. At the top of the list stood Haldór’s name; his own appeared on the next line down in case Haldór should decline. While his slaying of Folca was not premeditated, his subsequent resolve to use the situation to his own advantage was more than coincidental. His fondest hope is that his rival Haldór will meet his death at the hands of the King’s authorities, but he will clearly step in to slay the man if he feels that his own self interest demands it. FIRST POST: Fréa stepped quietly into the cell and closed the door behind him. It was late in the evening; all the others on duty had already left except for old Balthor who was guarding the outside doors to the prison. Fréa could do or say anything he pleased to Haldór and there was no one to witness his actions or object. Earlier that evening, he had seen Brytta stride into the cell block and talk privately with the prisoner. The two men had put their heads together in a conspiratorial fashion so that it was impossible for Fréa to hear what they were saying no matter how hard he strained. When he saw Brytta leaving the holding area, he’d gone up to the man and told him with a straight face and feigned sympathy in his voice that there was little help for his brother, and it was best if the family reconciled themselves to that reality and prepared for the worst. Brytta had not responded verbally, but had shot a vicious glance towards Fréa and clenched his fists quietly by his side. As Fréa stepped inside carrying a torch to light the darkened cell, he glanced over towards the prisoner. “Not much longer,” he gazed steadily at Haldór. “I’ve been at these executions before. Usually, they come in the morning just before dawn to lead you out to execution. They place shackles on your legs, bind your arms, and blindfold you. Then, as you’re led down to the place where the scaffolding’s set up, the crowd will jeer and let you know how they feel about someone who murders an officer of the king. Such a pity you lost your temper and bludgeoned that poor man.” Fréa acted as if he was about to turn aside and leave, then pivoted around at the last minute and spoke. His words did not hold a grain of truth, but then the prisoner had no way to know that. “By the way, there was something I needed to make sure and tell you. Oh, yes, I was with the commander today, and he mentioned that your brother Brytta was suspected of helping you hide the body. You know, the one who’s crippled. Someone denounced him, I believe. They’ll be charges prepared against him as well. Such a pity to see an entire family struck down. But then I guess you won’t need to worry about that since you won’t be here to visit him in prison.” Fréa walked over to the shoddy, beaten mattress where Haldór was to sleep; the knight had taken off the chain he always wore round his neck and set it down nearby on the floor. The piece was a heavy silver chain of ornate workmanship with the insignia of the Hildeson family outlined on a golden crest. Woven in and about the frame of the crest were strands of silver hair, obviously from an older woman. Fréa reached down and fingered the piece of jewelry roughly, then picked it up and spoke with contempt, “What’s this? A family heirloom? And with your deceased mother’s lock of hair interwoven? Old Hilde of the famous Hildeson’s, the one who lost her life as Orcbait.” Fréa lifted up the necklace and pulled out the misericord at his side, using its tip to strip out the strands of silver hair one-by-one. Then he held up the treasured locks near the flickering flame and watched as the fire totally consumed them. He halted for a moment to look over at Haldór and then pushed the jewelry deep inside his pocket. “We’ve got rules here. Prisoners aren’t allowed such trifles. This is mine by right. I don’t expect that you or your brother will need this back. See you in the morning.” Then he turned and left the cell. [ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]