Seekers of Truth Discussion Thread

[Pippin Pondlily]

Seekers of Truth

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? - Yes, Farmer in the Dale.

2.) How many RPGs on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? - One, Farmer in the Dale.

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn? - Yes.

Profile - 7.) 1 Female (Who wants to come along in hopes of gaining a reward)

Name - Haven Finduilwen Storms

Age - 27

Race - Man

Gender - Female

Weapons - A standard Rohirric-style short-sword, four throwing knives, a boot dagger, & long, black whip.

Appearance - Haven has short curly black hair, large grey eyes, full, sensual lips and high cheekbones. She is attractive but lacks any grace or elegance that would make her actually beautiful. Haven is of good height at about 5'8" and is quite thin and flat. She is surprisingly strong however when she needs to be. She sticks to practical clothes such as snug pants in dark hues and billowy shirts that breathe and open in a V at the neck that can be laced up in the cold weather. Occasionally she'll wear a navy blue leather jerkin that laces five inches above either hip for comfort during riding and also up the length of the front. About her waist she ties a dark red sash and under she wears a thick leather belt from which she hangs a pouch of money and her black whip (strictly for horse training purposes ). Over her left shoulder and secured to the right side of her belt she wears a brace of four throwing knives which she is fairly handy with. Finally upon her feet she wears black leather boots that come to just above her knee.

Personality - Haven is a very hardy woman and is rebellious and short-tempered. She has a terrible addiction to gambling that often gets her into trouble. Her sense of humor is wry and sarcastic and usually at the expense of others. However, as much as she can dish it out, she certainly doesn't like to take it and will jump quickly to defend herself. Haven is stubborn, prideful, and self-absorbed but she has a great capacity for friendship. Once her trust and respect is gained by a person, she will be as loyal and dependable as any noble companion.

History - Haven Storms was born the eighth of eleven children to a wealthy Gondorian family in Dol Amroth. She grew under the pressure of her five older sisters and was daunted at an early age by their superior beauty and intelligence. Abandoning any hope of ever becoming one of the ladies her mother wished for her daughters to become, she found escape in the local bars, stables, and even at the trading docks that led to the sea. When she was thirteen she fell in love with "glory" and learned sports such as horse-racing, jousting, archery (which she lacked the enthusiasm for--not aggressive enough), fencing, knife-throwing (especially in bars), and fist-fighting.

Her family disapproved and she began to grow distant from them. At sixteen she left for Rohan, a country that focused much less on society and protocol and more so on good, solid, hard work. She hoped to get a job and finally, after three years of struggling she landed a position in training horses for the Rohirrim. She's been doing it for eight years now, is paid quite well and comes very highly recommended. Her stubbornness, intolerance, and severity with the horses is key to molding the ideal warhorse. In her opinion things are done one way only: the right way, there are no side-paths.

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Pippin Pondlily's post

Haven Storms had one foot on the ground and the other perched on the rod connecting the front two legs of the stool. She half sat on the chair and half leaned on the bar counter, tracing the lip of her mug with her index finger. Her grey eyes were fixed sullenly on the shelves of mugs and tumblers behind the counter as she lamented all the minor troubles of her life that were brought into sharp relief and exaggerated by the excessive amounts of alcohol she had consumed.

The inn was an old one inhabited mostly by people who came out of tendency because here had been the eye of revelry in days past. The walls were dark and mildew filled the cracks and seeped through the grain of the rank wood. The ceiling was so full of smoke that Haven, frankly, could not be sure that one was even there. But what put the wry smile on her face and lured her to sit at the bar and buy a drink here was the fact that the people made like this was a modern, lively inn. They sang, laughed and told stories: some true, some ridiculously false. To put a damper on the patrons' happy spirits would be condemnable, which was precisely why she did.

"How long have you been here?" asked a familiarly dramatic voice. Haven cringed and moved so she sat the whole way on the chair. She cupped the mug in her hands.

"Please, leave me alone, Bryian," she said, her voice cold as stone not out of contempt for him but of what he had come to say. He took the empty seat next to her but did not order a drink.

"Why didn't you come back to the stables?" he asked, sounding sincerely anxious.

Haven sighed, began to answer and stopped. She took a drink. She set the mug on the counter and turned to face him, searching for an appropriate answer. "It wasn't my damn fault that horse died," she said bluntly, "the idiot stable boy should have arranged to get his shoe replaced months ago. It just so happened that I was riding it over that ditch when the nail came loose, the shoe came off, the bloody horse tripped and fell into the gully and broke its neck. What was I supposed to have done about it?!" She was shouting but no one seemed to notice it blending in with the songs and talk.

He inhaled deeply. "Haven, you push far too hard and you're merciless." He held up a hand to prevent her intervention. "I understand your ideas, I know your beliefs, the … code," he accentuated the word 'code', "you live by. It follows a steady line of logic and has its advantages but there's a line, Haven, there's a limit to what we as humans and they as horses can do. If you overstep that line, someone is going to get hurt, like today. Is that something you're just willing to risk?"

She didn't answer. Her face was taught and she clenched her teeth, a passion of fury rising up like a wave inside her, threatening to swell and crash, to swarm over him with an anger he shouldn't have to see.

Bryian put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Haven, Rillis Wheed needs you, please, take care of yourself." He paused when she remained silent. "There is only one thing more tragic than the loss of a horse and that is the loss of a man, or, woman, in your case. What would they do without you?"

"To hell with Rillis Wheed and his bloody horses."

"You don't mean that, Haven."

"I do."

"Come on," Bryian said, standing. "I'll take you back to your house." Haven sat rigid.

"No thanks," she said. Her tranquility was noticeably forced. "I'm going to stay here a little longer." He looked at her openly concerned. "I'll be alright," she assured him. He smiled and leant forward, kissing her on the forehead. She stiffened.

After he left, Haven ordered her fifth mug of Dorwinion wine and moved to a table near the fire. She knew it wasn't her fault. She felt no guilt about the horse's death. That belonged entirely to the stable boy in charge of that row of stalls. She had been taking it around the course in sharp turns and sudden jumps forcing the horse to respond to the lightest touch and obey the smallest command. They were jumping the gully when the shoe came off. She was thrown to the side and her body was jolted against the hard dirt and stone. Haven had had just enough time to roll out of the way as the horse kicked its legs frantically, whinnied in excruciating pain and foamed thick at the mouth. She remembered she had come to her knees and watched in horror and disbelief.

Haven hung her head over the mug. She had been so close. That horse was brilliant, born with the gifts of the Mearas though it was not of their blood. He would have made the king proud and Haven was ready to present him in just under two weeks. It would have been the very turning point of her career. She had tasted the glory of having trained one of the king's horses only for it to be snatched away from her in a manner harsher than she thought she deserved. It certainly wasn't what that horse deserved. She didn't want to know what would happen to the stable boy. In her opinion, there was nothing severe enough for him.

Now what was she going to do? How could she continue to train horses and be hopeful when this had happened? It was too much to think about. She wanted to get away from it all if just for a little while…

As she was thinking, Haven hadn't exactly realized what she had been staring at but now she focused and saw that she was studying another patron in the inn. It was a young woman, a rather beautiful woman with thick, curly auburn hair sitting in a green cloak at the bar. Her expression changed as often as a river. First she was comfortable, secure and in control. Then she began to look confused and her expression grew distant, as though she was lost. Out of nowhere she'd smile or frown. Then suddenly she jolted as if hit by a sudden wind or a shudder of the earth. Her face began to shuffle emotions until suddenly they stopped and her eyes were wide and alert and her whole body was tense and aware. She began to look around the inn, apparently searching for someone.

Haven was completely mystified. What sort of loony was this?


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***

And its open for revision if necessary, Hope you like it Crystal!

- P. Pondlily

[Himaran]

Hey, great RPG idea!

I would like to play the second male ranger. I will start working on a profile and first post immediately.

Himaran

[Child of the 7th Age]

Himaran -

Please check your pms.

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

Everyone please note the rule about submitting first posts with profiles:

First post:


This 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.

Many thanks!

Cami, Shire Mod

[Himaran]

Seekers of Truth

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? - Yes, The Hobbit’s Gift, The Road to Erebor, Quest for the Ainereg, Sailing Away, The Summons, In the Shadow of the Star, Flight from Rohan, Resettling the Lost Kingdom, The Ambassador’s Son, Search for Rhûn, Land of Darkness.

2.) How many RPGs on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? - One, Land of Darkness.

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn? - Yes.

Profile - 7.) 1 male ranger, returning to Rohan after several months in the wilderness.

Name - Raen

Age - 42

Race - Man (ranger)

Gender - Male

Weapons - Two long throwing knives (his favorite weapons), a standard bow an arrows, and a Longsword.

Appearance - Raen has lived in the wildnerness for several months, and his appearance has followed suit. Shaggy, dark brown hair clings to his neck as do the scruffy wiskers on the ranger's unshaven face. His clothing consists of a brown tunic, pants and cloak, weaven with green fibers to blend in with the forest. Leather vanguards and boots hold tightly to his arms and feet, attached with rusty metal clips. Tall with a broad profile, Raen has an intimidating figure. His light blue eyes are perhaps the only soft and yielding figment of his being. A traveler's pack hangs over his left shoulder, the only piece of luggage he ever carries with him.

Personality - Despite his appearance, Raen is compassionate and helpful -- it was this trait that caused him to go searching for Sandrina with the others, half a year earlier. He has always felt a strong urge to serve others, and cannot bear the sight of a sick child or an injured worker. The ranger is kind and thoughtful, uncharacteristic for his race, but is still withdrawn and quiet. Instead of conversing with others in taverns and halls, he prefers a silent walk in the forest. If one breaks the non-social barrier, however, he is talkative and friendly. Injustice to others is one of the few things in life that cause him to completely loose that personality. Raen becomes incredibly angry, and has little self control once his blood rises.

History - Raen was an only child, born in a small ranger camp in southern Eriador. His father died when he was young, leaving the raising to his mother, Haerin. A compassionate woman herself, Haerin focused on teaching her son to love and respect others. Instead of showing him the basics with a shortsword, she instructed him in the art of healing. She died when he was 12, and the boy's training quickly shifted to the trade of a warrior. But as the men of the camp molded him into and knife thrower, archer and swordsman, Raen never lost that caring spirit, and undying love for people.

After leaving the camp at the age of 22, the young ranger set out to travel the world. He did so, visiting Rohan and then Gondor. Many years passed, for Raen liked Gondor, and worked for a the Steward; patrolling the lands of Ithilien. But after joining a gold-mining expedition in the Bay of Belfalas that soon turned out to be a scam, the now poor warrior headed north again. Returning to Rohan, the now experienced ranger joined the search for a woman named Sandrina; who had disappeared under suspicious circumstances. Even after it was called off, Raen continued to traverse the surrounding wildnerness, not satisfied with the group's failure to find any trace of Sandrina. But he had no more success than the others, and eventually returned to Rohan, one year after the War of the Ring...

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Himaran's post



It was dark. Rain poured down around him, water splashed against his chest. He scanned the flooded area once more, looking for a trace, the slightest sign that she had been there. And then he saw her, twenty yards away, struggling against the current. He dove in, trying to reach her... but then the wave came, and the woman was gone.

Raen awoke with a start. He lay still for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room. There was no flooded forest, no woman, just a comfortable room inside a Rohanian tavern. The recurring nightmare had haunted him for several days, ever since he the stopped searching the wilderness a week before. The general search effort had ended months ago, but the ranger was hardly satisfied by the results. It was as though he was being punished for giving up, and Raen would have speculated further upon that theory; if common sense but had a smaller presence within his mind. Sitting up, he pushed with thick sheets aside and dressed slowly. After sleeping in the forest for so long, even the smallest figment of civilized life was a luxory. The man yawned, trying to feel comfortable; for in truth he was a stranger to these civilized surroundings. Snatching up a long, slender knife from the table (out of pure habit), Raen locked the room and headed downstairs.

Taking a seat at the bar, the ranger ordered a light breakfast and a hot drink. Even after several days at the establishment, it all seemed surreal. Nothing came naturely; Raen stared at the utensils before him for several moments before attacking the sliced ham with a vengence. He felt silly to have forgotten such simple behaviors, but knew it would all come back eventually. After all, it had been a while. The man watched as commoners and soldiers came and went, chatting and dining and arguing. Their lives were so simple; waking, working, and eventually passing from the world. Can I become a part of this calm, routine life? It was a question Raen had been asking himself ever since returning from his unsuccessful hunt.

Then a single man caught his attention. It was a ranger, (Raen was certain of that), but he seemed vaguely familier. There had been several of Raen's bloodline on the hunt for Sandrina; perhaps this was one of them. But that had been over five months back, surely they had not stayed in Rohan. Most went back to Eriador or Gondor, working for King Aragorn. He did look familier, though, and Raen started towards him; determined to find at least one of the answers that constantedly bothered him. The man immediately stopped, however, when the ranger began speaking with young woman who clearly resembled the one he had so desperately sought to find...

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Here you go - let me know if you need me to make changes.

Himaran

[piosenniel]

SUBMISSIONS FOR CHARACTERS SO FAR

1.) Arthur Lightheart - Harold's oldest son

• The Perky Ent - Arthur

~*~

2.) Samuel Lightheart - Harold's youngest son

• STILL NEEDED

~*~

Two male Rangers (They will have been from Gondor and know of the search for Sandrina but won't know the new whereabouts of her parents. They are there to aid in the capture of her cousins.)

~*~

3.) 1 male Ranger

• Arien - Braedon

~*~

4.) 1 male Ranger

• Himaran - Raen

~*~

5.) 1 Sword Maiden (An old childhood friend of Sandrina's that had been waiting for Sandrina's arrival in Gondor because she is the daughter of one of the trading families due to trade with her.)

• starkat - Anora

~*~

6.) 1 Family Friend – male or female (Recognizes her in the Inn (Male or Female) Regular that was waiting in Gondor for her as well.

• Hama of the Riddermark - Hama

~*~

7.) 1 Female (Who wants to come along in hopes of gaining a reward)

• Pippin Pondlily - Haven

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NOTE: If you find an "edited by piosenniel" on your post - I'm just setting the 'first posts' up for transfer to the game thread.

~*~ Pio

[piosenniel]

ONE LAST CHARACTER NEEDED!


#2.) Samuel Lightheart - Harold's youngest son

[The Perky Ent]

O brother, where art thou?



EDIT: Wow! This is my 2,000th post! I didn't see that comming! Wow! It's gonna be fun getting the next thousand in this RPG