Númenórean Blood Runs Black Planning/Discussion Thread - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:00 PM

Basic Storyline: King Telumehtar of Gondor, angered by the Corsairs constant attacks on his lands, leads an assault on Umbar to destroy the Corsairs once and for all, and reclaim the city for Gondor. Meanwhile, The Corsairs press on to wreak havoc on the coasts of Gondor.

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The purpose of the story is to: Reclaim Umbar for Gondor, and remove the Corsairs from the city.

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This means we will know the story is over when: Umbar is under Gondorian control

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Starting Location: Harlond for the Gondorians, the mouth of Anduin for the Corsairs.

Likely destination: Umbar

piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:01 PM

Timeframes:

This game takes place in the 3rd Age at around year 1810 - late Summer almost Autumn.

The storyline itself or plot covers two months

This game requires a time commitment of 14 weeks from me, the game owner and from the major players.

piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:02 PM

Character/Player List

Gondorian Forces

First Ship -- The Cuivië

King Telumehtar Umbardacil – The Perky Ent
Advisor/Record Keeper to the King – Menelcar – Firefoot
Sea Captain - Captain Hereric - Folwren

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Second Ship -- The Ráca

Captain - Captain Mirimon Vórimandur - Alcarillo
Soldier - Nimir - Dunwen
Soldier - Lingwë - Thinlómien
Soldier - Curamir - Kath

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Corsair Forces

Ship -- The Fame and Fortune

Lord of Umbar - Azaryan – Hiriel
Lord of Umbar - Sangalazin - Anguirel
Corsair Captain - Captain Chatazrakin Telmenzar (Rakin) - Amanaduial the archer
Slave - Ferethor Steele – Eorl of Rohan
Slave - Jagar - dancing spawn of ungoliant
Slave - Chakka - Fordim Hedgethistle

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Note 1: The Lords of Umbar are the sons of Angamaitë and Sangahyando. Angamaitë and Sangahyando are the direct descendants of Castamir, and former rulers of Umbar.

Note 2: The Slaves were those who stayed under the ship and manned the many ores of the ship. There’d be around 250 chained slaves per ship.

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Character types which would not belong: Any female characters, Elves, Hobbits, Dwarves, Orcs, or anything that is not specificed by the character list

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piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:03 PM

The Perky Ent’s character:

NAME: King Telumehtar, 28th King of Gondor

AGE: 178

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Telumehtar carries a three foot long sword handed down by his father Tarondor in TA 1700. Its hilt is wrapped in a soft leather grip, and the sword is relatively light to wield, compared to the sword of the regular Gondorian soldier. Besides his ceremonial sword, Telumehtar also carries a shorter, more worn sword, which Telumehtar had used ever since he was thirty. Along his belt, Telumehtar has several throwing daggers. As for armor, Telumehtar’s helm is of kingly proportions, bearing a large set of wings in the back, and a golden noseguard in the front. In front of his green tunic, Telumehtar wears an elegant hauberk, covered by a ruby red leather vest. For his legs, he wore an embroidered hose, covered by greaves. His leather gloves are lined with silver paint; his pauldrons and vambraces depicted the white tree under the stars. Above all his armor he wears the tabard of the white tree. On ceremonious occasions, he wears the Crown of Gondor on his head.

APPEARANCE: A man of substantial stature, Telumehtar stands tall at six feet seven inches. He stands poised, and has a kingly look about himself in public. His matted hair is brown, as are his eyes. His brow is wrinkled, but only from age. Telumehtar is a lean man, weighting as much as an average person (exclude his weight when in armor). As a king, he represents Gondor, and therefore keeps very clean and tidy. Of markings that would be of note, he bears a small scar on his left forearm that he believes was the plague’s effect on him.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: When it comes to his family, Telumehtar is very down to Earth. He is very caring and shows particular courtesy, condescending no one. A strong man, he is fairly agile, and thinks well under pressure. However, since he was a child, he has always had a mild case of claustrophobia, which has been a problem that has haunted him for quite some time, since he is the king of Gondor. He is fairly intelligent, and occasionally witty, yet he relies a great deal of his decisions to his right hand man, Menelcar. His weak point is his forearm, where he bears the scar of what he believes is the plague’s effect on him. When touched, it causes mild pain through his left arm. It his for this reason that he keeps his arm well armored.

In terms of his proficiency with weapons, Telumehtar is an awful shot when it comes to archery. He never had a passion for bows and arrows, and therefore never gave much interest to it. His skills with a blade are of kingly proportion, having spent many decades training in the ways of the blade. He is not an aggressive person, unless in a long fight where he will continue to increase his effort. Telumehtar never was much of a runner, but more of a sprinter, saving his energy for close fights.

HISTORY: Born in TA 1632, he was only two years old when he heard his great uncle Telemnar speak of war with the Corsairs of Umbar. Ever since, he has had a natural hate for them. It was when he was six that he saw the plague ravage Gondor. Telumehtar stood under the arm of his father as he watched his great uncle die, and the White Tree wither. It was in this year, TA 1636, that Tarondor, the nephew of Telemnar, became king of Gondor, making Telumehtar heir to the throne of Gondor. Four years later, he grew sad when he watched the king’s house move to Minas Arnor, as he had grown fond of Osgiliath, and didn’t want to leave. It was in this year that a white tree grew forth again in Gondor, and Telumehtar witnessed his sowing.

For the next 170 years, Telumehtar grew strong, and learned much of the lore of his land. Particularly, he learned much of the ways of the sea, spending much of his time near the mouth of the Anduin, and of the coastal cities of Belfalas. On his 68th birthday, Telumehtar received the sword of his father, which was passed down from Minardil, being one of the only relics remaining from the battle where his grand father died. The sword was passed down to Minastan, as Telemnar believed his brother would have more use for it. While fighting his way through a band of hostile Haradrim, the sword found its way into the hands of Menelcar, one of the men fighting along side him. Upon this meeting, they forged a friendship that lasted all the way until the king’s passing.

It was in the next year, TA 1798, that Telumehtar’s father passed away, leaving the throne of Gondor to him. Telumehtar took the responsibility willingly, and ruled justly. For the next twelve years, Telumehtar was troubled with the Corsairs, who have been seen pillaging closer to the heart of Gondor each year. With the help of Menelcar, his trustworthy advisor, Telumehtar made the decision to go to war in TA 1810. It was in this time that he gathered his host, and the story begins…

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FIRST POST FOR THE GAME:

Tall ships and tall kings
Three times three
What brought they from the foundered land
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one white tree

Telumehtar thought over the words, while he surveyed his lands. The view was always nice from the seventh tier of Minas Anor. With the wind blowing his brown hair across his brow, he could see lands his fathers had defended hundreds of years ago. Many times in the passing days had Telumehtar considered his heritage. When times of great trouble came, he would walk to the edge, and contemplate his actions. During this time, none were allowed to walk the level, except for the guards constantly stationed by the tree. It was in this hour that Telumehtar looked long and hard across his land, watching his troops muster at the port of Harlond. In the deepest part of his heart, Telumehtar wished he was a lone sailor of the sea, for Telumehtar was a mariner at heart.

It was a quiet day. The citizens of Minas Anor had been dreading the day for quiet some time after they heard that they would go to war. In homes, families were close and savored the time they had. Each day, Gondorians could see ships on the horizon, heading from far off lands. From Cair Andros to Dol Amroth, men had gathered to answer the call of war. Unlike tales of heroism and courage, the men of Gondor did not treat the Corsairs of Umbar like mindless orcs. Corsairs were a powerful force that required constant vigilance to be held back. Being pirates, they held no loyalty to any save themselves. But the pirates were not what scared the Gondorians, for they gave little heed to mindless brigands. It was the Black Numenorians, those corrupted by Sauron during the second age, that instilled fear in the very heart of Gondor. Just like the dunedain of Arnor, their numbers were rapidly decreasing, yet the remained the strength that their master had taught them long ago.

After meditating for quite some time, Telumehtar gave a sigh, and turned from the pinnacle. When he was a boy, his father would sing him songs of the Kings of Men, and their tree that stood on their island. It was from the story of the Akallabêth that Telumehtar learned to revere the sea and its power. But he was not meant to follow his hearts desire, as he was a descendant of the great kings of Gondor, and his fate was bound from his inception. When he turned his eyes to the White Tree, a sense of calm overtook him. Even after over a century of viewing it, the White Tree of Gondor was a sight. The sun’s light glistened on its branches perfectly, emanating beauty in its most radiant form. Telumehtar dared not touch it, a fear that he had held ever since he saw the death of the tree. “This is not a time for sorrow, for death smiles at us all.” Telumehtar said to himself as he walked away from the tree and smiled. “And all we can do about it is smile back”. He turned from the outdoors, and walked to his throne.

It was silent in his hall. The arrangements had been laid, precautions set, and edits degreed. The quiet was almost haunting, and it was for this that Telumehtar was glad when he heard whispers from behind him. Two men walked out from behind him, swords drawn. Without even registering the faces of the men, Telumehtar leaped from his throne and unsheathed his sword. In front of him, Telumehtar found none other than the Steward of Gondor, and his son Narmacil.

“Relax father. We are not here to usurp your authority.” Giving a slight chuckle, the steward added “Nay. In fact, we are here to make sure you are ready for the usurpers. Your son wanted to make sure you would stay on your toes. “Giving a cross look, Telumehtar slowly put his sword away. “When have I not been on my guard? Are you ready for my departure? As you should know, I am not much for goodbyes.” Narmacil nodded, and started to walk out of the hall. “I’ll have you know-“the steward interjected “That Arciryas sends his father his best wishes. Rest assured that he is safe in Annuminas. And I as well. I shall await your homecoming”. And with that, the steward and the heir left the room, and left Telumehtar to silence.

Telumehtar took a final look at his hall, and then marched slowly down the levels of the city. As he walked, groups of women and children parted to a side, creating a clear-cut path. One by one the gates of Minas Anor opened, until Telumehtar found himself upon the second level. Taking a right at a forked path, Telumehtar walked over to a large building with smoke billowing through its windows. Telumehtar opened the doors, and watched as all the men in the room bowed their heads. “Is it time my lord?” a man in the front said to the king, raising his head. Telumehtar gave a slow nod, and all the men watched as the king walked to the center of the large room. Along the walls, weapons and armor were laid, and golden tapestries of battles were hung from the ceilings. Telumehtar was presented with his armor, which had laid in the building for many years. Slowly but strongly, Telumehtar equipped his gear and left the building. Mindorlonn, Telumehtar’s chestnut horse, was waiting for his master outside the armoury.

Fixing the crown upon his head, Telumehtar rode to the gates of Minas Anor. Standing in front of an open gate, Telumehtar found a large group of mounted men waiting outside the city. Inside, a large cluster of people had gathered in a circle, engulfing Telumehtar within the entrance. Sweat started to pour down his face as Telumehtar started to cloister himself from his people. His horse, knowing him all too well, started to buck, bringing Telumehtar away from his claustrophobia. There, Telumehtar shouted, “People of Gondor! Fear not! The blood of Numenor shall be spilt this day, but it shall run black like their hearts! The corsairs will plague you no longer! For glory and Gondor we ride!” And with Minas Anor roaring in triumph behind him, Telumehtar grabbed Mindorlonn’s reins, and rode out to Harlond.

Quickly Telumehtar came to the port, and found it filled with ships and men. Throughout the port, Telumehtar spied flags from all distant lands of Gondor. Telumehtar started taking a mental note in his head of the lands that had come to his call. “Dol Amroth, Anfalas, Lossarnach, Morthond, Pinnath Gelin. Good, good, good! We are almost ready to make war. Now if only I could find - “You rang? Do not think I would not be here before you left!” came a voice from behind Telumehtar. “Menelcar! Trusty as ever! We will have time for pleasantries later, but I have more important matters to attend to. Where are my men? Where are my captains? My soldiers? My kingdom?”

piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:06 PM

Firefoot's character

NAME: Menelcar (King’s advisor/record keeper)

AGE: 141

RACE: Man of Gondor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Though rarely necessary in these days as the king’s advisor, Menelcar still regularly bears a sword, mostly out of habit from his days in the army. (In this campaign, of course, he might very well need it.) He is also proficient with a bow and can handle most other weapons with reasonable skill.

APPEARANCE: Númenorean blood runs nearly true in him, and it shows. He is tall, about 6’4”; his hair is shoulder-length and black as a raven’s wing; his eyes are grey and clear. He would be quite handsome if it weren’t for a certain hardness and arrogance in his features. He carries himself nobly and not without pride. His clothing is unremarkable except in its fine quality.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Menelcar’s intelligence is above average; this is one trait he has shown even as a very young boy. In addition to being smart, he was also good at just about whatever he put his mind to (those things he wasn’t good at, he sooner or later quit), and he began to think of himself as better than others. This was aided along by his family and heritage: he was born into a wealthy, noble family and is of nearly pure Númenorean descent. As a result, he has never been very social, preferring to keep to himself. There have been very few people he has ever been able to call a friend; the king is one of them. He holds his friends in high esteem, but generally looks down upon all others.

Though skilled in weaponry and horseback riding, neither has ever been his favorite. What he really loves are history and reading and writing, and in writing he has found his freedom. The thoughts that he would never confide to another person are regularly recorded in a journal. The job of record keeper and advisor to the king came naturally to him; there is little else that he would ever care to do.

HISTORY: Menelcar was born the middle child and second son of a noble family. Even as a child, he was a loner having few or no close friends. He was thought of as a bit odd for spending so much time by himself, especially in contrast to his older brother, who was, if slightly less talented, a great deal more social and well-liked by most everyone, in addition to being the more handsome. Menelcar was originally envious of his brother’s easy way with people, but what attempts he did make to fit in invariably failed to a greater or lesser extent, causing Menelcar to retreat more and more inside himself. He comforted himself by telling himself that he was better than they were anyway, that he didn’t need them, and the former at least was true in many ways. Eventually he came to wholly believe these things.

As he got older, he had no care to be married, and as the second son he was under no obligation to do so. Instead, he did the next logical thing for one of a noble house and joined the army. Though he had no particular care for weaponry and fighting, it was at any rate better than the social life that he might otherwise be expected to lead.

It was in these years of fighting that Menelcar met Telumehtar, then the prince, when he returned his sword to him. The two quickly came to an understanding which developed into a fast friendship such as Menelcar had never before or since experienced. When Telumehtar became king, Menelcar was the natural choice for a record keeper and advisor, and Menelcar readily gave up the army for the new position.

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Firefoot's post

It was with great impatience that Menelcar had awaited Telumehtar’s arrival. His impatience was not with the king himself, precisely, but he had been at the harbor since early that morning overseeing the muster and organization of the troops while the king took care of last minute preparations inside the city. He cared for this part of his job the least, for he disliked, nay, despised, dealing with people. This sentiment only compounded with so many people needing instructions at the same time. He had to direct the many captains to the ships that would transport them, as well as answer any questions that they or the ships’ captains might have. The job was necessary but tedious, and Menelcar had long since wearied of it. His mount, a restive bay stallion, seemed to concur.

The king’s arrival heartened Menelcar greatly; it meant they would be departing soon, and he would no longer be plagued by the many questions and problems of the soldiers. He nudged the horse forward to meet the king, threading his way through the busy harbor as quickly as he could manage. However, he was interrupted before he could get very far by yet another inquisitive captain; his uniform proclaimed him to be from Dol Amroth.

“Yes?” asked Menelcar curtly.

“I am Captain Baranor, out of Dol Amroth,” said the man, clearly unsure of how to take his brusque manner. “It seems that we brought a few more men than we had originally estimated; our assigned ships will be loaded full and there are still about twenty more men than the ships’ captains say that the boats will safely hold.”

Menelcar barely stifled an irritated sigh and dug out of his pocket the little book in which he was keeping the details of the attack. He scanned the ship assignments and wrote a note of the captain’s situation. “There should be some extra space with the soldiers from Anfalas. If not, check with those from Morthond. Do so quickly; we will be departing soon now that the king has arrived.”

“Thank you, milord,” said the captain with a salute. Menelcar paid no heed; he had already begun to ride off, scanning the harbor for Telumehtar, whom he had lost sight of while speaking with the captain. The king would be looking for him by now, no doubt. The soldiers milling about had parted to let the king pass through, and Menelcar took advantage of the more open space, nudging his horse into a dignified canter to catch up. The stallion took the extra rein eagerly after having stood around for so long.

“You were looking for me?” asked Menelcar as he drew even with Telumehtar. “Do not think I would not be here before you left!”

Telumehtar turned in recognition of the voice: “Menelcar! Trusty as ever! We will have time for pleasantries later, but I have more important matters to attend to. Where are my men? Where are my captains? My soldiers? My kingdom?”

“I should hope you know where your kingdom is by now,” commented Menelcar, smiling in spite of himself. “As for the rest of it, many of the soldiers are already aboard their ships. These rest ought to know where they’re heading by now, or their captains do.” Quickly he outlined the organization of the soldiers – where the units from the various regions of Gondor were situated and so on. “We will be traveling in that ship, there-” Menelcar pointed to a fine ship a short way down the harbor. “I have spoken with the captain of the ship; he seemed very eager to make sure all was in line for your arrival,” he added with a hint of contempt. The captain had spoken with him several times that day, to the point of being bothersome. “It should not be much more than an hour before we are ready to set sail; they mostly await your order.”

piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:08 PM

Folwren's character

NAME: Captain Hereric son Hothlere

AGE: 82

RACE: Gondorian

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Hereric uses a broad sword best. His sword, Gayaros, has a four foot, white blade with a silver hilt and handle. In the pommel is set a single blue stone. The hilt is decorated with thin, slender vines make of silver twining and encircling it.

Besides his skill with a sword, he can use the bow well, and has some ability with casting a spear.

APPEARANCE: He is not tall, really, compared to most Gondorians, and stands only six foot one. However, he has a powerfully built body, and a commanding eye and bearing which make up for his height. Brown hair, lightened by the almost constant sunlight, dark, penetrating brown eyes.
He usually wears no armor and is dressed (at most times) in a while shirt, laced at the throat, brown breeches, mid-calf boots. On such occasions as welcoming the King aboard the ship, he’ll have his coat and hat on, with his sword at his side, cutting a handsome and military figure.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Captain Hereric is a taut captain, but neither brutal or cruel to his men. It is rather necessary to retain rather stiff discipline at sea, but his crew does not resent him for it, and they all rather like their captain. He has a very quiet character most of the time, and usually only becomes visibly angry or annoyed at such busy, confusing times as preparing for a voyage and while they’re still at the wharfs and harbors. Once sail is spread he’s back to his regular self, calm and generally quiet.

In any sea battle, he can make quick, difficult decisions on a moment’s notice. He knows his ship from bow to stern and every curve and rope therein, and is therefore able to direct her in difficult places and times at sea, or anywhere.

His weaknesses lie in his habit of withdrawing himself when things aren’t going well, or aren’t going his way (not in the stubborn, spoiled child sense, but as a sea officer). At such times, he’ll become even less talkative, stern, and altogether impassible. Another is that he gets unaccountably excited in battles, and though his sometimes reckless actions has never gotten him or his ship and crew into any trouble that he couldn’t pull them back out of again, it still is dangerous.

All in all, he’s a great leader and an excellent captain, knowing both his men, his ship, and his business well.

HISTORY:

Hereric was born to Hothlore and Aanel in 1728 in Osgiliath. His father was a captain at the time of his birth and continued being so until his death in one of the many, random battles with the Corsairs in 1738. From that day forward, Hereric wanted to go and join the Navy in hopes of someday taking revenge for his father’s death. His mother let him go and in 1739, at age 11, he joined.

Having had such a father as Hothlore, he did not have a difficult time finding his way as one of the junior officers onto one of the ships. That is not to say he had many privileges when he was a boy, but he wasn’t considered a regular seaman. He worked his way up the ladder, learning first about the knots and sails, and then navigating skills. He was taught the necessary mathematics and astrology necessary to successfully captain and sail a ship. He learned to read and write, tell time by the sun, and take and fulfill responsibilities given him. Before becoming a captain in 1795, he had served as several of the higher ranking officers.

In 1795 he was appointed Captain and given his first ship. It was small and not particularly fast nor very nice, but in two years he was given a higher rating and given a different ship, The Cuivië - the one he presently sails. It was one that he had sailed most of his earlier years. He found it a great advantage, knowing the way it sailed almost as soon as he set foot to it.

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Folwren's post

Captain Hereric stood on the deck of The Cuivië, his hands folded behind him, and his eyes watching the bustle of his men below. The muscle in his jaw slowly clenched and unclenched and a constant, grim expression lingered on his face. The last day before setting sail was always hard enough without the extra stress of greeting a king. It would have to be his ship, wouldn’t it? But then, she was very fine, wasn’t she? He glanced up at the ropes and rigging above his head. The fine lines against the clear blue sky, and the proud Gondorian flag fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was a gorgeous ship, and her crew one of the best. He had little nor no doubts of her performance, and he would not have had any worries in the least had it not been for the condescending manner of the king’s own advisor.

Hereric’s jaw tightened again and he looked towards the pier. Of all people, he thought he disliked the condescending sort. The very thought of being looked down on by anyone on his ship was extremely annoying and entirely intolerable. He’d have to work on that if the two of them were going to be stuck together for more than a few days.

The approach of his first left-tenant brought his attention back to his ship and he watched as the young man mounted the steps to his side. ‘Sir, the last of the water is on, and the meat. That should be the last shipment on board from the port. The last attachment of soldiers, also, will be arriving shortly, no doubt.’

‘Yes, I should imagine so,’ Hereric replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the sun and back down. ‘Prepare my barge. You will go to the landing and greet his majesty the King.’

In a few moments, the boat was by the ship’s side and the left-tenant with the Captain’s coxswain climbed over the side and were rowed towards the landing. The Captain remained where he stood, giving the last orders, and preparing the ship for the king’s arrival. It would not be long.

Hereric kept half an eye on his men on shore. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. The wait at the docks and the stress of making certain that everything was bought and delivered to the ship always made him impatient and peevish. The counselor had likely been under stress himself when he had spoken to him.

‘Forimar,’ he said, turning to a man walking past below him. ‘Get all this squared away and prepare the deck for the king’s arrival.’

piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:09 PM

Alcarillo's character

NAME: Captain Mirimon Vórimandur

AGE: 83 years

RACE: Man, Gondorian

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Captain Vórimandur's favorite weapon is a family heirloom: a sword from Númenor named Sercendil. The guard is set with a single sapphire on each side. The hilt is bound in blue cloth. A ranga long, the sword is more of an ornament than a weapon and Captain Vórimandur is hesitant to use it, lest it be damaged. He prefers to use a short spear when boarding enemy ships, and there's always a healthy supply onboard. In addition to his sword, Vórimandur also has a yew bow, about three feet long. He uses it when the Ráca is coming alongside an enemy ship within bow range.

When it comes to armor, Captain Vórimandur settles for a breastplate engraved with an image of the White Tree and a set of pauldrons for his soldiers (all of which is meticulously polished hours before battle). Sometimes he also wears a chain-mail skirt extending to his knees.

APPEARANCE: Captain Vórimandur is six feet and four inches tall, evidence of Númenorean ancestry. His slightly wavy hair is a fading black mixed with silvery grey at the temples. His hair is long and covers his ears, but it does not reach much further. In back it touches the base of his neck. He has a scrawny moustache and beard of a salt-and-pepper color. It's little more than overgrown stubble. His eyes are green, his nose is aquiline, and his skin is dark and lined from his travels. His shoulders are wide, and his arms are strong after years of a life at sea.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Captain Vórimandur is most noted for his strong dislike of anything even remotely related to Umbar and the South. He's picked up this grudge during his years at sea fighting the Corsairs, and especially when the first ship he fought on was destroyed off the coast of Belfalas.

Captain Vórimandur is also competitive. He strives to be the first to destroy a particular enemy ship in battle, for instance, and pushes his men to great extents to reach it. Together with his hated for Umbar and his ability to think on his feet, he makes a fierce enemy in battle.

Vórimandur loves his ship and his crew, but is also a stern leader, and punishes those who disobey his authority as any captain would. He has a taste for fancy dress, which means that he fights every battle in dazzling armor and a swirling cape. He seems a little eccentric to the other captains.

HISTORY: Mirimon Vórimandur was born in the year 1727 of the Third Age in Minas Anor. His father, Vanyacar, was the innkeeper of the Galloping Horse. His mother, Eruvande, helped her husband by doing chores around the inn. Mirimon Vórimandur's childhood was spent at the inn and earning a small salary doing chores. he didn't have many friends his own age, but he did befriend many of the inn's frequent visitors: sailors, soldiers, and travelers.

Vórimandur lived at the Galloping Horse until he was sixteen years old, when he joined the navy, inspired by the tales told by the inn's guests. He first served aboard the ship Telpelingwë as a deckhand, but after many years of fine seamanship he rose through the ranks to third in command. The ship was sunken fifteen years later off the coast of Belfalas, when it was attacked by two Corsair vessels. Vórimandur and the other survivors escaped clinging to the Telpelingwë's wreckage. They were rescued by the Eärmacil and taken to Linhir. Vórimandur never forgave the Corsairs for what they did to the Telpelingwë, and still has a deep grudge for anything from the south.

Vórimandur now stayed off the seas for some years, and returned to Minas Anor. Here he tended the Galloping Horse with his mother (his father had died of a particularly vile fever while Vórimandur was aboard the Telpelingwë). He soon fell in love with a local seamstress, Lothwen, and in 1758 they married. Vórimandur's daughter Morwen was born five years later.

Vórimandur was content running the inn, but he still felt the desire to work with ships once more. The opportunity came in 1776, when he joined the crew of the Ráca. He replaced a dead navigator, and soon his earlier experience helped Vórimandur make his way up to second-in-command, next to Captain Brithion.

The Ráca patrolled the waters about Tolfalas. She was a larger vessel than the Telpelingwë, and had a larger crew, and more soldiers. Vórimandur was back on the high seas on a dazzling ship. She had many battles with the Corsairs, and won most of them. Vórimandur's wealth and fame grew until he and his family bought a mansion on Minas Anor's fifth level, where he stayed with Lothwen and Morwen between voyages.

In 1789 Captain Brithion was killed in a battle with the Corsairs by falling rigging. Vórimandur became the ship's captain, and since then his skill in battle has caught the attention of King Telumehtar. Now, Captain Vórimandur relishes the opportunity to strike at the heart of the Corsairs' empire.

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Alcarillo's post

Captain Vórimandur paced his office in the Ráca's stern impatiently. He and his crew had woken up before sunrise to prepare for this voyage. For long hours they packed all of their food, weapons, clothing, sea charts, and other necessities into the ship. Then they checked for sails for tears, and then the decks were swabbed until the Ráca was the cleanest ship for leagues in all directions. Captain Vórimandur had put forth all of his effort to ready the ship, but now the only thing to prevent them from sailing to victory and glory was the King of Gondor himself. It was now nearing midafternoon, and King Telumehtar had not arrived. Thrice already had Captain Vórimandur asked the king's attendant on the pier when the king would arrive, and each time the answer was the same: soon.

He could barely wait any longer to sail off. The thrill of a new voyage pounded in Captain Vórimandur's heart. He opened the stern windows wide and searched the docks for any sign of the king, but there was none. He sighed and leaning against the window frame watched the sailors of the other ships prepare. Maybe we shouldn't have began so early.

"Sir?" a sailor stepped through the open cabin door, and Captain Vórimandur turned his head from the window. It was Caradhril, a trusted navigator, and a member of the Ráca's crew for nearly three years now. Caradhril cleared his throat and said, "Sir, the sailors are getting bored. There's nothing more to do. Some of them are wandering the docks and the other ships."

"Really?" Captain Vórimandur was surprised and had not thought about what the sailors were doing at the moment. He sat at his desk, ornately carved with nautical symbols. "Tell Morgond to round up the sailors. I want all of them back on the ship by the time the king arrives." He considered for a moment what sort of punishment should await them. Then a silver trumpet blared somewhere on the pier.

"The king has arrived! Caradhril, hurry!" Vórimandur said. Caradhril turned and ran into the deep hallways of the Ráca. It was all those new sailors from Lossarnach, unused to how life on a ship worked. Vórimandur moved back to the stern windows to catch a good look at the king, and to keep an eye out for his wandering sailors.

10-14-2005, 08:02 PM	#3
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Character/Player List Gondorian Forces First Ship -- The Cuivië King Telumehtar Umbardacil – The Perky Ent Advisor/Record Keeper to the King – Menelcar – Firefoot Sea Captain - Captain Hereric - Folwren ~~ Second Ship -- The Ráca* Captain - Captain Mirimon Vórimandur - Alcarillo Soldier - Nimir - Dunwen Soldier - Lingwë - Thinlómien Soldier - Curamir - Kath -------------------- Corsair Forces Ship -- The Fame and Fortune Lord of Umbar - Azaryan – Hiriel Lord of Umbar - Sangalazin - Anguirel Corsair Captain - Captain Chatazrakin Telmenzar (Rakin) - Amanaduial the archer Slave - Ferethor Steele – Eorl of Rohan Slave - Jagar - dancing spawn of ungoliant Slave - Chakka - Fordim Hedgethistle ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Note 1: The Lords of Umbar are the sons of Angamaitë and Sangahyando. Angamaitë and Sangahyando are the direct descendants of Castamir, and former rulers of Umbar. Note 2: The Slaves were those who stayed under the ship and manned the many ores of the ship. There’d be around 250 chained slaves per ship. _______________________________ Character types which would not belong: Any female characters, Elves, Hobbits, Dwarves, Orcs, or anything that is not specificed by the character list _______________________________

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10-14-2005, 08:00 PM	#1
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Basic Storyline: King Telumehtar of Gondor, angered by the Corsairs constant attacks on his lands, leads an assault on Umbar to destroy the Corsairs once and for all, and reclaim the city for Gondor. Meanwhile, The Corsairs press on to wreak havoc on the coasts of Gondor. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The purpose of the story is to: Reclaim Umbar for Gondor, and remove the Corsairs from the city. ----- This means we will know the story is over when: Umbar is under Gondorian control ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Starting Location: Harlond for the Gondorians, the mouth of Anduin for the Corsairs. Likely destination: Umbar

10-14-2005, 08:01 PM	#2
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Timeframes: This game takes place in the 3rd Age at around year 1810 - late Summer almost Autumn. The storyline itself or plot covers two months This game requires a time commitment of 14 weeks from me, the game owner and from the major players.

10-14-2005, 08:03 PM	#4
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	The Perky Ent’s character: NAME: King Telumehtar, 28th King of Gondor AGE: 178 RACE: Human GENDER: Male WEAPONS: Telumehtar carries a three foot long sword handed down by his father Tarondor in TA 1700. Its hilt is wrapped in a soft leather grip, and the sword is relatively light to wield, compared to the sword of the regular Gondorian soldier. Besides his ceremonial sword, Telumehtar also carries a shorter, more worn sword, which Telumehtar had used ever since he was thirty. Along his belt, Telumehtar has several throwing daggers. As for armor, Telumehtar’s helm is of kingly proportions, bearing a large set of wings in the back, and a golden noseguard in the front. In front of his green tunic, Telumehtar wears an elegant hauberk, covered by a ruby red leather vest. For his legs, he wore an embroidered hose, covered by greaves. His leather gloves are lined with silver paint; his pauldrons and vambraces depicted the white tree under the stars. Above all his armor he wears the tabard of the white tree. On ceremonious occasions, he wears the Crown of Gondor on his head. APPEARANCE: A man of substantial stature, Telumehtar stands tall at six feet seven inches. He stands poised, and has a kingly look about himself in public. His matted hair is brown, as are his eyes. His brow is wrinkled, but only from age. Telumehtar is a lean man, weighting as much as an average person (exclude his weight when in armor). As a king, he represents Gondor, and therefore keeps very clean and tidy. Of markings that would be of note, he bears a small scar on his left forearm that he believes was the plague’s effect on him. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: When it comes to his family, Telumehtar is very down to Earth. He is very caring and shows particular courtesy, condescending no one. A strong man, he is fairly agile, and thinks well under pressure. However, since he was a child, he has always had a mild case of claustrophobia, which has been a problem that has haunted him for quite some time, since he is the king of Gondor. He is fairly intelligent, and occasionally witty, yet he relies a great deal of his decisions to his right hand man, Menelcar. His weak point is his forearm, where he bears the scar of what he believes is the plague’s effect on him. When touched, it causes mild pain through his left arm. It his for this reason that he keeps his arm well armored. In terms of his proficiency with weapons, Telumehtar is an awful shot when it comes to archery. He never had a passion for bows and arrows, and therefore never gave much interest to it. His skills with a blade are of kingly proportion, having spent many decades training in the ways of the blade. He is not an aggressive person, unless in a long fight where he will continue to increase his effort. Telumehtar never was much of a runner, but more of a sprinter, saving his energy for close fights. HISTORY: Born in TA 1632, he was only two years old when he heard his great uncle Telemnar speak of war with the Corsairs of Umbar. Ever since, he has had a natural hate for them. It was when he was six that he saw the plague ravage Gondor. Telumehtar stood under the arm of his father as he watched his great uncle die, and the White Tree wither. It was in this year, TA 1636, that Tarondor, the nephew of Telemnar, became king of Gondor, making Telumehtar heir to the throne of Gondor. Four years later, he grew sad when he watched the king’s house move to Minas Arnor, as he had grown fond of Osgiliath, and didn’t want to leave. It was in this year that a white tree grew forth again in Gondor, and Telumehtar witnessed his sowing. For the next 170 years, Telumehtar grew strong, and learned much of the lore of his land. Particularly, he learned much of the ways of the sea, spending much of his time near the mouth of the Anduin, and of the coastal cities of Belfalas. On his 68th birthday, Telumehtar received the sword of his father, which was passed down from Minardil, being one of the only relics remaining from the battle where his grand father died. The sword was passed down to Minastan, as Telemnar believed his brother would have more use for it. While fighting his way through a band of hostile Haradrim, the sword found its way into the hands of Menelcar, one of the men fighting along side him. Upon this meeting, they forged a friendship that lasted all the way until the king’s passing. It was in the next year, TA 1798, that Telumehtar’s father passed away, leaving the throne of Gondor to him. Telumehtar took the responsibility willingly, and ruled justly. For the next twelve years, Telumehtar was troubled with the Corsairs, who have been seen pillaging closer to the heart of Gondor each year. With the help of Menelcar, his trustworthy advisor, Telumehtar made the decision to go to war in TA 1810. It was in this time that he gathered his host, and the story begins… -------------------------------------------- FIRST POST FOR THE GAME: Tall ships and tall kings Three times three What brought they from the foundered land Over the flowing sea? Seven stars and seven stones And one white tree Telumehtar thought over the words, while he surveyed his lands. The view was always nice from the seventh tier of Minas Anor. With the wind blowing his brown hair across his brow, he could see lands his fathers had defended hundreds of years ago. Many times in the passing days had Telumehtar considered his heritage. When times of great trouble came, he would walk to the edge, and contemplate his actions. During this time, none were allowed to walk the level, except for the guards constantly stationed by the tree. It was in this hour that Telumehtar looked long and hard across his land, watching his troops muster at the port of Harlond. In the deepest part of his heart, Telumehtar wished he was a lone sailor of the sea, for Telumehtar was a mariner at heart. It was a quiet day. The citizens of Minas Anor had been dreading the day for quiet some time after they heard that they would go to war. In homes, families were close and savored the time they had. Each day, Gondorians could see ships on the horizon, heading from far off lands. From Cair Andros to Dol Amroth, men had gathered to answer the call of war. Unlike tales of heroism and courage, the men of Gondor did not treat the Corsairs of Umbar like mindless orcs. Corsairs were a powerful force that required constant vigilance to be held back. Being pirates, they held no loyalty to any save themselves. But the pirates were not what scared the Gondorians, for they gave little heed to mindless brigands. It was the Black Numenorians, those corrupted by Sauron during the second age, that instilled fear in the very heart of Gondor. Just like the dunedain of Arnor, their numbers were rapidly decreasing, yet the remained the strength that their master had taught them long ago. After meditating for quite some time, Telumehtar gave a sigh, and turned from the pinnacle. When he was a boy, his father would sing him songs of the Kings of Men, and their tree that stood on their island. It was from the story of the Akallabêth that Telumehtar learned to revere the sea and its power. But he was not meant to follow his hearts desire, as he was a descendant of the great kings of Gondor, and his fate was bound from his inception. When he turned his eyes to the White Tree, a sense of calm overtook him. Even after over a century of viewing it, the White Tree of Gondor was a sight. The sun’s light glistened on its branches perfectly, emanating beauty in its most radiant form. Telumehtar dared not touch it, a fear that he had held ever since he saw the death of the tree. “This is not a time for sorrow, for death smiles at us all.” Telumehtar said to himself as he walked away from the tree and smiled. “And all we can do about it is smile back”. He turned from the outdoors, and walked to his throne. It was silent in his hall. The arrangements had been laid, precautions set, and edits degreed. The quiet was almost haunting, and it was for this that Telumehtar was glad when he heard whispers from behind him. Two men walked out from behind him, swords drawn. Without even registering the faces of the men, Telumehtar leaped from his throne and unsheathed his sword. In front of him, Telumehtar found none other than the Steward of Gondor, and his son Narmacil. “Relax father. We are not here to usurp your authority.” Giving a slight chuckle, the steward added “Nay. In fact, we are here to make sure you are ready for the usurpers. Your son wanted to make sure you would stay on your toes. “Giving a cross look, Telumehtar slowly put his sword away. “When have I not been on my guard? Are you ready for my departure? As you should know, I am not much for goodbyes.” Narmacil nodded, and started to walk out of the hall. “I’ll have you know-“the steward interjected “That Arciryas sends his father his best wishes. Rest assured that he is safe in Annuminas. And I as well. I shall await your homecoming”. And with that, the steward and the heir left the room, and left Telumehtar to silence. Telumehtar took a final look at his hall, and then marched slowly down the levels of the city. As he walked, groups of women and children parted to a side, creating a clear-cut path. One by one the gates of Minas Anor opened, until Telumehtar found himself upon the second level. Taking a right at a forked path, Telumehtar walked over to a large building with smoke billowing through its windows. Telumehtar opened the doors, and watched as all the men in the room bowed their heads. “Is it time my lord?” a man in the front said to the king, raising his head. Telumehtar gave a slow nod, and all the men watched as the king walked to the center of the large room. Along the walls, weapons and armor were laid, and golden tapestries of battles were hung from the ceilings. Telumehtar was presented with his armor, which had laid in the building for many years. Slowly but strongly, Telumehtar equipped his gear and left the building. Mindorlonn, Telumehtar’s chestnut horse, was waiting for his master outside the armoury. Fixing the crown upon his head, Telumehtar rode to the gates of Minas Anor. Standing in front of an open gate, Telumehtar found a large group of mounted men waiting outside the city. Inside, a large cluster of people had gathered in a circle, engulfing Telumehtar within the entrance. Sweat started to pour down his face as Telumehtar started to cloister himself from his people. His horse, knowing him all too well, started to buck, bringing Telumehtar away from his claustrophobia. There, Telumehtar shouted, “People of Gondor! Fear not! The blood of Numenor shall be spilt this day, but it shall run black like their hearts! The corsairs will plague you no longer! For glory and Gondor we ride!” And with Minas Anor roaring in triumph behind him, Telumehtar grabbed Mindorlonn’s reins, and rode out to Harlond. Quickly Telumehtar came to the port, and found it filled with ships and men. Throughout the port, Telumehtar spied flags from all distant lands of Gondor. Telumehtar started taking a mental note in his head of the lands that had come to his call. “Dol Amroth, Anfalas, Lossarnach, Morthond, Pinnath Gelin. Good, good, good! We are almost ready to make war. Now if only I could find - “You rang? Do not think I would not be here before you left!” came a voice from behind Telumehtar. “Menelcar! Trusty as ever! We will have time for pleasantries later, but I have more important matters to attend to. Where are my men? Where are my captains? My soldiers? My kingdom?”

10-14-2005, 08:06 PM	#5
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Firefoot's character NAME: Menelcar (King’s advisor/record keeper) AGE: 141 RACE: Man of Gondor GENDER: Male WEAPONS: Though rarely necessary in these days as the king’s advisor, Menelcar still regularly bears a sword, mostly out of habit from his days in the army. (In this campaign, of course, he might very well need it.) He is also proficient with a bow and can handle most other weapons with reasonable skill. APPEARANCE: Númenorean blood runs nearly true in him, and it shows. He is tall, about 6’4”; his hair is shoulder-length and black as a raven’s wing; his eyes are grey and clear. He would be quite handsome if it weren’t for a certain hardness and arrogance in his features. He carries himself nobly and not without pride. His clothing is unremarkable except in its fine quality. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Menelcar’s intelligence is above average; this is one trait he has shown even as a very young boy. In addition to being smart, he was also good at just about whatever he put his mind to (those things he wasn’t good at, he sooner or later quit), and he began to think of himself as better than others. This was aided along by his family and heritage: he was born into a wealthy, noble family and is of nearly pure Númenorean descent. As a result, he has never been very social, preferring to keep to himself. There have been very few people he has ever been able to call a friend; the king is one of them. He holds his friends in high esteem, but generally looks down upon all others. Though skilled in weaponry and horseback riding, neither has ever been his favorite. What he really loves are history and reading and writing, and in writing he has found his freedom. The thoughts that he would never confide to another person are regularly recorded in a journal. The job of record keeper and advisor to the king came naturally to him; there is little else that he would ever care to do. HISTORY: Menelcar was born the middle child and second son of a noble family. Even as a child, he was a loner having few or no close friends. He was thought of as a bit odd for spending so much time by himself, especially in contrast to his older brother, who was, if slightly less talented, a great deal more social and well-liked by most everyone, in addition to being the more handsome. Menelcar was originally envious of his brother’s easy way with people, but what attempts he did make to fit in invariably failed to a greater or lesser extent, causing Menelcar to retreat more and more inside himself. He comforted himself by telling himself that he was better than they were anyway, that he didn’t need them, and the former at least was true in many ways. Eventually he came to wholly believe these things. As he got older, he had no care to be married, and as the second son he was under no obligation to do so. Instead, he did the next logical thing for one of a noble house and joined the army. Though he had no particular care for weaponry and fighting, it was at any rate better than the social life that he might otherwise be expected to lead. It was in these years of fighting that Menelcar met Telumehtar, then the prince, when he returned his sword to him. The two quickly came to an understanding which developed into a fast friendship such as Menelcar had never before or since experienced. When Telumehtar became king, Menelcar was the natural choice for a record keeper and advisor, and Menelcar readily gave up the army for the new position. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Firefoot's post It was with great impatience that Menelcar had awaited Telumehtar’s arrival. His impatience was not with the king himself, precisely, but he had been at the harbor since early that morning overseeing the muster and organization of the troops while the king took care of last minute preparations inside the city. He cared for this part of his job the least, for he disliked, nay, despised, dealing with people. This sentiment only compounded with so many people needing instructions at the same time. He had to direct the many captains to the ships that would transport them, as well as answer any questions that they or the ships’ captains might have. The job was necessary but tedious, and Menelcar had long since wearied of it. His mount, a restive bay stallion, seemed to concur. The king’s arrival heartened Menelcar greatly; it meant they would be departing soon, and he would no longer be plagued by the many questions and problems of the soldiers. He nudged the horse forward to meet the king, threading his way through the busy harbor as quickly as he could manage. However, he was interrupted before he could get very far by yet another inquisitive captain; his uniform proclaimed him to be from Dol Amroth. “Yes?” asked Menelcar curtly. “I am Captain Baranor, out of Dol Amroth,” said the man, clearly unsure of how to take his brusque manner. “It seems that we brought a few more men than we had originally estimated; our assigned ships will be loaded full and there are still about twenty more men than the ships’ captains say that the boats will safely hold.” Menelcar barely stifled an irritated sigh and dug out of his pocket the little book in which he was keeping the details of the attack. He scanned the ship assignments and wrote a note of the captain’s situation. “There should be some extra space with the soldiers from Anfalas. If not, check with those from Morthond. Do so quickly; we will be departing soon now that the king has arrived.” “Thank you, milord,” said the captain with a salute. Menelcar paid no heed; he had already begun to ride off, scanning the harbor for Telumehtar, whom he had lost sight of while speaking with the captain. The king would be looking for him by now, no doubt. The soldiers milling about had parted to let the king pass through, and Menelcar took advantage of the more open space, nudging his horse into a dignified canter to catch up. The stallion took the extra rein eagerly after having stood around for so long. “You were looking for me?” asked Menelcar as he drew even with Telumehtar. “Do not think I would not be here before you left!” Telumehtar turned in recognition of the voice: “Menelcar! Trusty as ever! We will have time for pleasantries later, but I have more important matters to attend to. Where are my men? Where are my captains? My soldiers? My kingdom?” “I should hope you know where your kingdom is by now,” commented Menelcar, smiling in spite of himself. “As for the rest of it, many of the soldiers are already aboard their ships. These rest ought to know where they’re heading by now, or their captains do.” Quickly he outlined the organization of the soldiers – where the units from the various regions of Gondor were situated and so on. “We will be traveling in that ship, there-” Menelcar pointed to a fine ship a short way down the harbor. “I have spoken with the captain of the ship; he seemed very eager to make sure all was in line for your arrival,” he added with a hint of contempt. The captain had spoken with him several times that day, to the point of being bothersome. “It should not be much more than an hour before we are ready to set sail; they mostly await your order.”

10-14-2005, 08:08 PM	#6
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Folwren's character NAME: Captain Hereric son Hothlere AGE: 82 RACE: Gondorian GENDER: Male WEAPONS: Hereric uses a broad sword best. His sword, Gayaros, has a four foot, white blade with a silver hilt and handle. In the pommel is set a single blue stone. The hilt is decorated with thin, slender vines make of silver twining and encircling it. Besides his skill with a sword, he can use the bow well, and has some ability with casting a spear. APPEARANCE: He is not tall, really, compared to most Gondorians, and stands only six foot one. However, he has a powerfully built body, and a commanding eye and bearing which make up for his height. Brown hair, lightened by the almost constant sunlight, dark, penetrating brown eyes. He usually wears no armor and is dressed (at most times) in a while shirt, laced at the throat, brown breeches, mid-calf boots. On such occasions as welcoming the King aboard the ship, he’ll have his coat and hat on, with his sword at his side, cutting a handsome and military figure. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Captain Hereric is a taut captain, but neither brutal or cruel to his men. It is rather necessary to retain rather stiff discipline at sea, but his crew does not resent him for it, and they all rather like their captain. He has a very quiet character most of the time, and usually only becomes visibly angry or annoyed at such busy, confusing times as preparing for a voyage and while they’re still at the wharfs and harbors. Once sail is spread he’s back to his regular self, calm and generally quiet. In any sea battle, he can make quick, difficult decisions on a moment’s notice. He knows his ship from bow to stern and every curve and rope therein, and is therefore able to direct her in difficult places and times at sea, or anywhere. His weaknesses lie in his habit of withdrawing himself when things aren’t going well, or aren’t going his way (not in the stubborn, spoiled child sense, but as a sea officer). At such times, he’ll become even less talkative, stern, and altogether impassible. Another is that he gets unaccountably excited in battles, and though his sometimes reckless actions has never gotten him or his ship and crew into any trouble that he couldn’t pull them back out of again, it still is dangerous. All in all, he’s a great leader and an excellent captain, knowing both his men, his ship, and his business well. HISTORY: Hereric was born to Hothlore and Aanel in 1728 in Osgiliath. His father was a captain at the time of his birth and continued being so until his death in one of the many, random battles with the Corsairs in 1738. From that day forward, Hereric wanted to go and join the Navy in hopes of someday taking revenge for his father’s death. His mother let him go and in 1739, at age 11, he joined. Having had such a father as Hothlore, he did not have a difficult time finding his way as one of the junior officers onto one of the ships. That is not to say he had many privileges when he was a boy, but he wasn’t considered a regular seaman. He worked his way up the ladder, learning first about the knots and sails, and then navigating skills. He was taught the necessary mathematics and astrology necessary to successfully captain and sail a ship. He learned to read and write, tell time by the sun, and take and fulfill responsibilities given him. Before becoming a captain in 1795, he had served as several of the higher ranking officers. In 1795 he was appointed Captain and given his first ship. It was small and not particularly fast nor very nice, but in two years he was given a higher rating and given a different ship, The Cuivië - the one he presently sails. It was one that he had sailed most of his earlier years. He found it a great advantage, knowing the way it sailed almost as soon as he set foot to it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Folwren's post Captain Hereric stood on the deck of The Cuivië, his hands folded behind him, and his eyes watching the bustle of his men below. The muscle in his jaw slowly clenched and unclenched and a constant, grim expression lingered on his face. The last day before setting sail was always hard enough without the extra stress of greeting a king. It would have to be his ship, wouldn’t it? But then, she was very fine, wasn’t she? He glanced up at the ropes and rigging above his head. The fine lines against the clear blue sky, and the proud Gondorian flag fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was a gorgeous ship, and her crew one of the best. He had little nor no doubts of her performance, and he would not have had any worries in the least had it not been for the condescending manner of the king’s own advisor. Hereric’s jaw tightened again and he looked towards the pier. Of all people, he thought he disliked the condescending sort. The very thought of being looked down on by anyone on his ship was extremely annoying and entirely intolerable. He’d have to work on that if the two of them were going to be stuck together for more than a few days. The approach of his first left-tenant brought his attention back to his ship and he watched as the young man mounted the steps to his side. ‘Sir, the last of the water is on, and the meat. That should be the last shipment on board from the port. The last attachment of soldiers, also, will be arriving shortly, no doubt.’ ‘Yes, I should imagine so,’ Hereric replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the sun and back down. ‘Prepare my barge. You will go to the landing and greet his majesty the King.’ In a few moments, the boat was by the ship’s side and the left-tenant with the Captain’s coxswain climbed over the side and were rowed towards the landing. The Captain remained where he stood, giving the last orders, and preparing the ship for the king’s arrival. It would not be long. Hereric kept half an eye on his men on shore. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. The wait at the docks and the stress of making certain that everything was bought and delivered to the ship always made him impatient and peevish. The counselor had likely been under stress himself when he had spoken to him. ‘Forimar,’ he said, turning to a man walking past below him. ‘Get all this squared away and prepare the deck for the king’s arrival.’

10-14-2005, 08:09 PM	#7
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Alcarillo's character NAME: Captain Mirimon Vórimandur AGE: 83 years RACE: Man, Gondorian GENDER: Male WEAPONS: Captain Vórimandur's favorite weapon is a family heirloom: a sword from Númenor named Sercendil. The guard is set with a single sapphire on each side. The hilt is bound in blue cloth. A ranga long, the sword is more of an ornament than a weapon and Captain Vórimandur is hesitant to use it, lest it be damaged. He prefers to use a short spear when boarding enemy ships, and there's always a healthy supply onboard. In addition to his sword, Vórimandur also has a yew bow, about three feet long. He uses it when the Ráca is coming alongside an enemy ship within bow range. When it comes to armor, Captain Vórimandur settles for a breastplate engraved with an image of the White Tree and a set of pauldrons for his soldiers (all of which is meticulously polished hours before battle). Sometimes he also wears a chain-mail skirt extending to his knees. APPEARANCE: Captain Vórimandur is six feet and four inches tall, evidence of Númenorean ancestry. His slightly wavy hair is a fading black mixed with silvery grey at the temples. His hair is long and covers his ears, but it does not reach much further. In back it touches the base of his neck. He has a scrawny moustache and beard of a salt-and-pepper color. It's little more than overgrown stubble. His eyes are green, his nose is aquiline, and his skin is dark and lined from his travels. His shoulders are wide, and his arms are strong after years of a life at sea. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Captain Vórimandur is most noted for his strong dislike of anything even remotely related to Umbar and the South. He's picked up this grudge during his years at sea fighting the Corsairs, and especially when the first ship he fought on was destroyed off the coast of Belfalas. Captain Vórimandur is also competitive. He strives to be the first to destroy a particular enemy ship in battle, for instance, and pushes his men to great extents to reach it. Together with his hated for Umbar and his ability to think on his feet, he makes a fierce enemy in battle. Vórimandur loves his ship and his crew, but is also a stern leader, and punishes those who disobey his authority as any captain would. He has a taste for fancy dress, which means that he fights every battle in dazzling armor and a swirling cape. He seems a little eccentric to the other captains. HISTORY: Mirimon Vórimandur was born in the year 1727 of the Third Age in Minas Anor. His father, Vanyacar, was the innkeeper of the Galloping Horse. His mother, Eruvande, helped her husband by doing chores around the inn. Mirimon Vórimandur's childhood was spent at the inn and earning a small salary doing chores. he didn't have many friends his own age, but he did befriend many of the inn's frequent visitors: sailors, soldiers, and travelers. Vórimandur lived at the Galloping Horse until he was sixteen years old, when he joined the navy, inspired by the tales told by the inn's guests. He first served aboard the ship Telpelingwë as a deckhand, but after many years of fine seamanship he rose through the ranks to third in command. The ship was sunken fifteen years later off the coast of Belfalas, when it was attacked by two Corsair vessels. Vórimandur and the other survivors escaped clinging to the Telpelingwë's wreckage. They were rescued by the Eärmacil and taken to Linhir. Vórimandur never forgave the Corsairs for what they did to the Telpelingwë, and still has a deep grudge for anything from the south. Vórimandur now stayed off the seas for some years, and returned to Minas Anor. Here he tended the Galloping Horse with his mother (his father had died of a particularly vile fever while Vórimandur was aboard the Telpelingwë). He soon fell in love with a local seamstress, Lothwen, and in 1758 they married. Vórimandur's daughter Morwen was born five years later. Vórimandur was content running the inn, but he still felt the desire to work with ships once more. The opportunity came in 1776, when he joined the crew of the Ráca. He replaced a dead navigator, and soon his earlier experience helped Vórimandur make his way up to second-in-command, next to Captain Brithion. The Ráca patrolled the waters about Tolfalas. She was a larger vessel than the Telpelingwë, and had a larger crew, and more soldiers. Vórimandur was back on the high seas on a dazzling ship. She had many battles with the Corsairs, and won most of them. Vórimandur's wealth and fame grew until he and his family bought a mansion on Minas Anor's fifth level, where he stayed with Lothwen and Morwen between voyages. In 1789 Captain Brithion was killed in a battle with the Corsairs by falling rigging. Vórimandur became the ship's captain, and since then his skill in battle has caught the attention of King Telumehtar. Now, Captain Vórimandur relishes the opportunity to strike at the heart of the Corsairs' empire. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alcarillo's post Captain Vórimandur paced his office in the Ráca's stern impatiently. He and his crew had woken up before sunrise to prepare for this voyage. For long hours they packed all of their food, weapons, clothing, sea charts, and other necessities into the ship. Then they checked for sails for tears, and then the decks were swabbed until the Ráca was the cleanest ship for leagues in all directions. Captain Vórimandur had put forth all of his effort to ready the ship, but now the only thing to prevent them from sailing to victory and glory was the King of Gondor himself. It was now nearing midafternoon, and King Telumehtar had not arrived. Thrice already had Captain Vórimandur asked the king's attendant on the pier when the king would arrive, and each time the answer was the same: soon. He could barely wait any longer to sail off. The thrill of a new voyage pounded in Captain Vórimandur's heart. He opened the stern windows wide and searched the docks for any sign of the king, but there was none. He sighed and leaning against the window frame watched the sailors of the other ships prepare. Maybe we shouldn't have began so early. "Sir?" a sailor stepped through the open cabin door, and Captain Vórimandur turned his head from the window. It was Caradhril, a trusted navigator, and a member of the Ráca's crew for nearly three years now. Caradhril cleared his throat and said, "Sir, the sailors are getting bored. There's nothing more to do. Some of them are wandering the docks and the other ships." "Really?" Captain Vórimandur was surprised and had not thought about what the sailors were doing at the moment. He sat at his desk, ornately carved with nautical symbols. "Tell Morgond to round up the sailors. I want all of them back on the ship by the time the king arrives." He considered for a moment what sort of punishment should await them. Then a silver trumpet blared somewhere on the pier. "The king has arrived! Caradhril, hurry!" Vórimandur said. Caradhril turned and ran into the deep hallways of the Ráca. It was all those new sailors from Lossarnach, unused to how life on a ship worked. Vórimandur moved back to the stern windows to catch a good look at the king, and to keep an eye out for his wandering sailors.