Bloodstained Elanor Planning/Discussion Thread

[Durelin]

Orofaniel - Please disregard my PM. I was in a rush, and, once again, my thoughts were unorganized. If the part of a Haradrim captain of the main forces is what you still wish to play, I will be getting back to you on your bio shortly.

The Perky Ent - I find your character a very interesting one, and the history is extremely well done. But, I think a little more is needed to describe both your character's appearance and personality, with more needed the latter. Also, as always, I remind you to review it and be nitpicky!

Hama Of The Riddermark - I think more is needed for your character's personality as well. I'd like a little more of an idea what Lómarandil is like. And concerning your first post: I ask you to go back and read my first post, as yours contradicts a good bit of what went on in mine. I like the orc dialogue, but...well, you'll see what I mean. Also, we would not be taking word to Thranduil.

Here, for the reference of those constructing on reviewing bios:

Outline of game:

• Army prepares to march from Dol Guldur (day 1)
• Mirkwood scouts discover army (day 1), and, as it begins to march toward Lorien, they decide to follow (day 2 – 3)
• Lorien envoy is on their way to the Woodmen (days 1 – 3), a good ways outside Lorien on day 1
• Envoy crosses path of army (the two are heading in opposite directions, and it is hard to avoid a large army), and are captured (day 3)
• Small force breaks off to take the captives back to Dol Guldur (day 3)
• Mirkwood scouts, following, are able to ambush (night day 3) this force and rescue the captives
• The scouts learn of the plans: a special force will attack from another direction and assault Caras Galadon (day 4)
• The elven party races back to Lorien from the north at the greatest possible speed – the trolls slow the baddies down (days 4 – 7)
• When they arrive (night day 9), the battle is about to begin:
  When the army reaches the Anduin around mid-day on the 9th day, they stop to put up the floating bridges. They plan to begin the attack soon after dawn the next day. The Mirkwood scouts + Lorien envoy reach the borders of Lorien a little before dusk, and reach Caras Galadon soon after dusk. A council of war then follows during the night.
• The plan of the special force is foiled, and the entire army retreats (day 11)

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Timeframes:

Time Periods (for a basic idea of the order of things):

Mikwood scout party scouts out and follows army (days 1 – 3)
Envoy captured – a party splits off to take captives back to Dol Guldur (day 3)
Envoy rescued – Plans of evil forces made clear (night of day 3 – day 4)
Race back to Lorien (days 4 – 7)
Defenders warned/inner defenders rescued from surprise attack (night of day 7 – day 8)
Lorien front lines hold off main force (day 9)
Enemy held – Retreat (day 11)

Kransha - All that you said sounds good, but I will read your edited bio over. Thanks for the changes!

And thanks to all, especially the submitters of bios that I am so pestering!

-Durelin

[The Perky Ent]

Figured as much. This is a very high profile game, and didn't think I'd get away with it I'll work on it.

[Arry]

Submitted for the Orc character – Dol Guldur Main Forces

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

No; this is my first here.
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2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?

None
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3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn

Yes

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Gromwakh

AGE: One year is much like the next to him . . . but he’s at least five – beyond that he’s unsure; birthdays not being celebrated among the members of the Orcish race. He only knows he and his tent-mate, Snikdul, have gone hunting in the dark forest once a year at midsummer since they came to serve at Dol Guldur. Got five black squirrel heads each they wear on filthy, twisted cords about their waist. Looking to add a few Elf fingers if they can get them.

RACE: Orc, originally from Mount Gundabad

GENDER: male

WEAPONS: A rusty, but serviceable filet knife he never cleans, other than to wipe it hastily on the thigh of his breeches – long thin blade: good for sticking, skinning, and general slice-work. Main weapon - a hefty hardwood cudgel studded with raggedy iron spikes. Brainbash, he calls it.

APPEARANCE: Squat in stature, dark skinned, with patches of greasy hair on his head. Thin, wiry-muscled arms and legs. Protuberant belly. His eyes are dark brown, and rather bulbous. His feet and hands are large with long, ragged, yellowed nails. Snaggle-toothed, pimply skinned, and stinks of the mouldy concoction of onion and rancid bird eggs he likes to spread on his bread, when he can get it. Wears a stiff leather jerkin pieced together from some small animals best unknown; a pair of cast-off breeches with more holes than material. No foot covering; no head-gear. Has a small leather pouch strung on the cord round his waist for carrying messages as needed.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Not exceedingly bright; but has the cunning of the put-upon. An excellent follower only if the leader keeps him under his watchful eye and his back within reach of his whip. He has proved himself able at running messages between one staging area and another. Runs fast and for long periods without tiring (though not without grumbling). Cowardly by some standards, though he sees it as pure self preservation. Very good at hiding during a fight. Can defend himself ably, though, if attacked.

HISTORY: Most of his life has been spent in the dark, Orc-warrens beneath the Misty Mountains. Keeping the ways open for the Dark Lord’s traffic and free of the occasional unfortunate Dwarf or man who ventured beneath the roots of the mountains. Nice there, he thought. Not much to do, and there was always some tasty rat or bat to be had for snacking when the mood struck him.

Just five years ago a large number of his fellow Orcs, himself included, had been driven south and then east to Dol Guldur, putting an end to his relatively easy life. Something about the Dark Master needing troops for a big fight he was planning. He couldn’t be sure. The big Orcs that captained them drove them day and night beneath the mountains, when they could, and out beneath old Yellow Face when needed. The pace was too fast for idle questions, and the looks on the faces of the brutes with whips discouraged any questions as it was.

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

I’d like very much to carry along Gromwakh’s companion, Snikdul; if I might.

Here’s a short bio for him:

NAME: Snikdul

AGE: somewhere in the vicinity of Gromwakh’s – maybe a bit younger

RACE: Orc from Mount Gundabad

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A short, curved blade sword with a hook at the end – he’s named it The Ripper. A medium length, thick iron bar he can wield with his left hand while his right holds the sword. ‘Slash ‘em and bash’em’ is his motto.

APPEARANCE: Short and dark like Gromwakh. Long armed, thick legged, muscular. Slant-eyed. Yellow fanged. Wears a tattered leather vest of unknown color - greasy, grimy, and sewn with a number of pockets, inside and out. Equally greasy breeches bearing numerous unnamed splotches. In battle, he sports a battered helmet whose craters and crevices match the contours of his misshapen skull. And he has a rather large nose that drips quite often and a lot.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Very talkative, likes to prattle on at the most inopportune moments. Follows along after Gromwakh as if he were a younger brother. Dangerous as a cornered badger when threatened, but prefers, as does Gromwakh, to avoid being cornered at all.

HISTORY: Much the same as Gromwakh’s

__________________________________


Arry's post:

‘I heard it was old One-eye going to lead most of us this time.’

Gromwakh muttered something unintelligible in return as his ratting companion, Snikdul, nattered on about the rumored plans for the upcoming battle. They were down in the depths of the cellars and passageways beneath Dol Guldur. Hunting was good down there, the rats plump from the horde of foods stored for the use of the fortress’ little army. The small burlap sack the two Orcs had dragged down with them was filled with tasty morsels . . . some of them still squirming.

‘You gonna stand there and talk while I do the work,’ Gromwakh growled, casting a nasty look at his companion. ‘Think you can talk your dinner to death, do you!’ he picked up a clump of mouldering dirt and threw it at Snikdul.

Silence and the scrabbling of the two-leggeds after the four echoed in the dim, dusty recesses of the main storeroom. Unable to help himself, as he methodically wrung one of his catches’ necks, Snikdul found himself speaking again. ‘Well whatta ya think of that?’ he asked, continuing on, as if there had been no pause.

‘Think about what?’ rasped Gromwakh. ‘One filthy Uruk’s the same as any other. It’ll be “Scum do this!” and Scum do that!” and ours’ll be the backs that bleed when the whips are laid to them.’ Gromwakh looked up, glaring as Snikdul Shhh’d him. He chucked a squealing rodent against the stone wall for emphasis. ‘Stop your sniveling! Whatta ya going on about? Think the stones down hear have ears? Think again!’ He waved a stiff rat’s body over his head, pointing it up toward the top of the hill. ‘All them high-and-mighties are somewhere up there making their plans. And it’ll be our snaga-hides the nasty Elf-blades’ll be cutting on the front lines.’ Snikdul wiped the back of his arm across his dripping nose, giving a resigned shrug to his companion’s comments.

Gromwakh motioned for Snikdul to follow him down the dirt tunnel. Their shuffling steps were muffled by the loose dirt of the floor as they loped along. Dried, twisted roots from the few trees still clinging to life on the hill poked out here and there from the tunnel’s roof – snagging the hapless hunters on the head as they passed. Just before they reached the steps up to the surface, Snikdul spoke up again. Another observation had bubbled up to the surface of his thick stew of half-formed thoughts.

‘Hey . . . I heard something about that man-Captain . . . Herding they called him. Clever, he is . . . he hates them southern pushdugs much as we do. Snikdul snorted with laughter. Gromwakh grunted and slung the rat sack over his other shoulder. ‘Quiet now. We’re here at the top. Filthy walls do have ears up here . . .’

The two Orcs slunk low, half hidden in the shadows afforded by the scraggly bushes and the rough-hewn sides of the fortress. They kept their eyes on the ground before them, fervently hoping no one would notice their passage.

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Hope this will do! Will change any of it as needed (I did mention Orofaniel's and Kransha's characters if that's alright).

Looking forward to play, if possible. Thanks for your consideration!

-- Arry

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Durelin,

Added to my personality and changed my first post. Hope you like

[piosenniel]

Please note that all references to Easterlings in the Character's list and in players bios/post have now been changed to Southron.

You may of course throw a few Easterling troops into the mix if you wish in your posts, but the main 'baddies' will feature Southrons - Haradrim, under the able command of their Southron Captains.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio

[Alaksoron]

Alaksoron - Check your PM's (Private Messages), please

Please read the Discussion thread carefully. Note how the other players have done their Character Description forms, and how they have written their First Posts.

Then, you may, of course submit a character and First Post for an Elven Warrior of Lorien - but you must follow the rules to do so:

1.) Use the COMPLETE CHARACTER DESCRIPTION FORM - ON PAGE 1, POST # 12.

2.) YOU MUST SUBMIT A FIRST POST WITH YOUR CHARACTER DESCRIPTION - GIVING US AN IDEA OF WHAT YOUR CHARACTER IS DOING AT THE START OF THE GAME.

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Will await your completed submission. You may repost it here if you wish, using the edit function.

Thanks!

~*~ Piosenniel, Game Moderator

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Done some editing of my first post under Durelin's guidance. The end should make a little more sense now...

[Amanaduial the archer]

Durelin, check your PMs please

[Durelin]

Arry - Thank you for submitting a bio! You most certainly can have both Gromwakh and Snikdul! They are two wonderful characters. They're so very different from the rest of the baddies, and this is a very good thing - they add so much flavor! You gave such a lovely and accurate explanation about orc ages , and your first post is just fine, mentioning other characters.

Hama - Thank you for all the changes! Looks pretty good now. Lómarandil is accepted!

The Perky Ent - I am very sorry, too! But I understand completely.

Orofaniel - Herding seems like a good baddie! He is accepted! One thing, though (I am mainly just curious, but it would be nice if this was added to the bio): Herding can certainly hate his own people, but is there a reason why? I couldn't find one in the bio or the first post, though it was clear that he hated them. Was there something in his past that you had in mind, or is it caused by something in his personality?

Alaksoron - Thank you for your interest in this game! I hope you can follow Pio's guidance an make it into an RPG soon.

Pio - Please forgive my slothfulness! I saw it, but failed to say so... Oh, and, unfortunately, there are 5 characters still needed, rather than just four. Both a male and female ambassador are needed.

[Arry]

Looking forward then to playing with you all!

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Pio and Durelin -- here is my reworked first post; didn't really change a lot, but I didn't think that much needed changing! Let me know.

DEDICATED CHARACTER

5.) Fordim Hedgethistle - Lorien Ambassador + 2 carry-along guards


Carry-along characters:

Megilaes and Caranbaith

Fraternal twin brothers. They are young Elves, only about three hundred years old, who are being taught the ways of Lorien warfare by Ambarturion, my main character.

They are both armed with bows and the short daggers favoured by the Silvan Elves.

They are both fair haired, but Megliaes is the taller of the two, while Caranbaith has the fairer singing voice.

*-*-*-*-*

Main Character:


NAME: Ambarturion

AGE: 7060

RACE: Elf (Silvan)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Ambarturion bears a bow of the Galadhrim and an ancient sword of Doriath. The sword is made of white steel and engraved in such a manner that when drawn in moonlight it appears to glow like a descended star. Its blade is long and tapered, as was the manner of weaponry for Elves in the First Age, and the pommel is wrapped in tightly bound cords of supple leather. Upon the crosspiece there is mounted a single pale gem – the last heirloom of his house.

APPEARANCE: Ambarturion is very tall and very graceful, and even among the Elves of Lorien he is known for the extremity of both his beauty and the severity of countenance which mars it. His raven-black hair is cropped just below the shoulders and his keen grey eyes shine with the memory of the fearless dark. His face is stern and proud, but possessed of great nobility and lineage. He wears the grey cloak of Lorien over a simple tunic and doublet of forest green, and his long legs are clad in supple breeches also of forest hue. He bears neither ornament nor jewel. Ambarturion rarely smiles or laughs.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Ambarturion bears himself as one of the Noldor, for he has spent almost his whole life in the company and service of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. His life is defined by the love that binds him to his Lord and Lady, and this is the source both of his greatness and of the distant pride that many remark in him. But for his loyalty to them, Ambarturion would long ago have forsaken Middle-Earth and made the journey to the Grey Havens – as he is ever counselling the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim to do. He cares little for the other folk of Middle-Earth, and is convinced that whether Sauron conquer them or not is of little purpose, for none of their works or deeds has rivalled those of the Elves in the Elder Days. Of all the Free Peoples, he values only the Ents and the Dunedain, but even they are the fallen remnants of a once mightier race.

HISTORY: Born in the First Years of the Sun, Ambarturion was raised within the protection of the Girdle of Melian where Thingol reigned as High King. When he was old enough to enter the service of a lord, he swore fealty to his kinsman Celeborn and to his Lady, beautiful and glorious beyond bearing. Since then, his fate has been bound to that of his Lord and Lady and his life has been the chronicle of his people’s long defeat. His tears at Ninaeth Arnodad were shed for his brother and father who were slain by balrogs in the first charge of the Elves. He beheld with wonder the host of the Valar and their destruction of Thangbad. He marched under the banners of Thingol and Gil-Galad in their defeats of Sauron, and was among those who Galadriel sent to welcome the Faithful back to Middle-Earth at the fall of Numenor. It was upon his return from this journey that his mother told him of her decision to leave Middle-Earth, and he had longed to follow her, for he loved her greatly and their parting was grievous. But the love he bore for Celeborn and Galadriel overcame this desire and his mother departed alone.

Through the long tale of years since then, his thoughts have turned increasingly to the Undying Lands. For the faint echo of the West that he had seen within the Girdle has grown with the years until it has become as a waking dream for him: ever present before his eyes, dulling the small world of mortal folk and leading him further and further away from their troubles. It was a sore trial for him to know that the One Ring had been within the very grasp of his Lady, but that she had let it slip away from her and into the hands of Sauron, borne thence by a race of witless folk unsung and unheralded in any song or tale. His weariness with Middle-Earth has been made more unbearable through the Ages by the constant loss of those companions of his youth who had, like him, sworn fealty to Celeborn in Melian. Many of his friends fell in the endless battles against the servants of Thangbad and then Mordor. The rest have taken their place in the ships that sailed away from these shores. Of all those who had once gathered about Celeborn as his Companions, Ambarturion alone remains.

On the day when he first came to Lothlorien with his Lord, he made the ways of the forest his study, and spent all his energies in preparing for the land’s defence. None among the Elves bore a steadier hand with the bow, and his sword, already tempered by two Ages of service in the war against Melkor and his servants, had been sharpened and renewed through countless years of careful practice. For centuries he has been entrusted with the instruction of younger Elves in the art of war, but he wearied of teaching only, and has taken to wandering the fringes of the Golden Wood for weeks on end, relentlessly prowling and hunting for their enemies. His journeys have taken him further and further afield, as far as the fringes of Mirkwood to the East, and to the Gladden Fields and the Brown Lands to the North and South. And always in these journeys is his purpose the same: to slay the servants of Sauron in order to forestall their inevitable victory for as long as he might, in the hopes that Celeborn and Galadriel will cease their fruitless quest to save Middle-Earth and follow his counsel to take the straight road into the West.

~*~

Fordim Hedgethistle's Post

The light of midday cast Ambartrion’s shadow before him as he strode easily through the long grass of the Vale of Anduin. The party had left the eaves of Lorien in the morning and as always happened when he walked in the outside world, the dull reality of it settled upon him like a fine ash. The trees that stood in clumps about the plain were naked sticks that clung to life in a chill and desolate landscape, little different to him than the Brown Lands to the South. There came to his keen ears from time to time the falling cry of desperate birds and the rush of troubled waters over impertinent stones. He sought the solace of memory, moving in his mind across earth that seemed more real than the solid ground beneath his feet. More and more had he done so of late, to the point where the few companions that he allowed to join him in his journeys outside the Golden Wood became concerned that he was withdrawing from the waking world of Middle-Earth to a point where he could not, perhaps, return. And, indeed, he was always reluctant to leave the lands of memory and rejoin the fallen and stale world of the present reality, and was often curt with those who called him hither.

This time it was his student Caranbaith who called him back. With a light touch on his master’s shoulder, the youth pointed to the distant horizon saying, “If I see aright, the Mirrormere lies before us, and we are heading a bit west of north. Do we not take the long way round to the Woodmen of Mirkwood by this route?” Ambarturion sighed at the youth, impatient with his question. Megilaes, Caranbaith’s brother and also student to Ambarturion, caught the manner of their master’s reaction and quickly held his tongue.

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he replied quickly. “There is great need of haste put upon us, but these lands are dangerous and we must take what care we can. I intend to lead us somewhat west of the Anduin for a day before turning toward the River. There is a place two days’ march from where we shall stop this night where we can ford the waters and then strike north and east to the Woodmen.” Caranbaith nodded quickly and fell silent before the manner of his master. He and his brother had been in his tutelage for only a short time, barely one lifetime of mortal Men, but in that time he had found his master to be impenetrable in many ways. On some days he would answer their questions with patient forbearance of their youth, gently instructing them in the ways of war. On days such as this appeared to be, however, he resented any intrusion to his thoughts and would quickly put down any attempt to interrupt his inner life. Sensing that he would say no more that day, the brothers fell back to walk a few paces behind their master.

Ambarturion turned once more to his thoughts and was soon lost in the groves of Doriath even as his feet continued to pick out their careful way toward the mountains. He did not turn to Coromswyth where she rode. He had opposed her desire to ride on this journey, for horses were difficult to house and feed, and could be both seen and followed more easily across the wide open spaces of the vales that they must cross. But she had been insistent and he had deferred to her in this simply to avoid further discussion. He did not speak with her that day, for he saw no need of unnecessary words with her. Their route had been discussed and decided upon, so what need of conversation would there be before nightfall? And thus did the company proceed through that afternoon. Ambarturion strode along out front, his pace never slackening or changing, his eyes fixed straight ahead, alert to all possible danger, but unseeing of much that passed before the eyes of the others, lost as he was in the world of his youth. Behind him followed Coromswyth and his students, who diligently swept the horizon with their keen eyes as they had been taught, ever vigilant against the threats of this uncertain world.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Fordim -

Ok Durelin, I know I said I wouldn't, but man, some people have a stereotypical image of me playing an elf, so heck, I'll live up to that stereotype and play an elf! *strikes heroic pose* And what are you apologising about?

To play the female ambassador from Lorien

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? - Yes: Lets Have The Party Here!, Rivendell RPG, The Undying Lands, The Crimson Sword, New Mirkwood RPG, An Audience With The King, Cirith Ungol, Shadows Of Umbra, Roll Out The Barrels, Wolf Run, Brotherhood: a story from the last Alliance, Kidnapped!, Search for the Lost Messenger, Escape From Nurn, The Green Dragon, Gondorian House Call, The Ambassador’s Son, The Green Dragon, A Ride To The Dark Side, Last Hope for Moria, Legacy of Traitors

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? – None! But I have one coming up in starting in July.

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? - Yes, both.

NAME: Coromswyth (koh-ROm-swith)

AGE: 1057

RACE: Silvan elf

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Coromswyth is not a warrior, although she has often given advice concerning battle technique to the elf captains before they went into battle. However, she is able to handle weapons more than aptly. Her weapon of choice is a bow and arrows. Her bow is elegantly carved with a pattern of simbelmyne leaves and flowers, and made of yew, making it supple and less stiff to draw back and shoot with than some made of heavier woods, allowing the archer to focus more on accuracy whilst still maintaining a force only a little lower than that possible with heavier bows. She is used to shooting from a standing or riding position. She also carries a slim, lightweight dagger strapped on the inside of her left wrist, and a sword in the sheath on the saddle of her horse.

APPEARANCE: Coromswyth is not at all vain, but all who see her are immediately aware of her beauty. Her hair, like Ambarturion’s, is dead straight and jet black and most usually worn in a plaited half-ponytail or loose, and reached about halfway down her back. Her hair frames a face whose almost alabaster skin refuses to darken or burn even in the brightest sun, and her bone structure is defined but fine. Her sharp eyes are grey-blue. She is of about average height among her kind, standing at about 5ft 8, and her build is willowy but strong. Being not a warrior, and being on an ambassadorial mission, Coromswyth of course wears ladylike garb, her dresses beautifully made but quite simple, being only for travel for the time being, but the colours are strong. Her travelling garb is of green and light grey, with a wide skirt to allow her to ride easily. They are not particularly heavy, as the extra weight would be impractical, and all have long sleeves – they cover the hidden dagger at her wrist.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Coromswyth's self-conciousness can sometimes make her seem younger than she is, although she has little to be self-concious of really. She is of high birth and rank among the elves, and is admired by many for her knowledge on one level, and her beauty on the other, although she does not yet intend to marry, wishing to travel first, knowing that her time on Middle Earth grows ever shorter with each passing minute, sand running rapidly through her fingers though she tries to grasp it. The futility irritates her and sometimes she seems despairing, knowing she will never be able to see all that she has studied and take one of the ships to the Havens. For Coromswyth is a scholar, thought of as wise because of all she has studied and the way she holds herself, although this is of course different from the wisdom of the Noldor and the other ancients of the elves who remain in Lorien, and she would never profess herself to her so. She has studied especially the histories and manners of the people of Middle Earth, not only the elves, battle technique being an area that caused her to be picked as one of the ambassadors, although she prefers those topics less warlike. Another prime reason would be the approachability of the elf and the fact that she will always listen to what another has to say, even if she disagrees. In a debate or arguement, all self-conciousness vanishes from the elf and she becomes alive, vigorous and sharp, her persuasive and oratory skills strong and powerful. However, she has travelled widely in her years, and has not solely confined herself to studies, for she takes the opinion that there are also more important things, however much she devours all information, and has also devoted herself at times to more ‘practical’ studies: she has a love of singing, and of beautiful things. Mostly she is quite quiet, fair of voice and often light hearted, quietly curious to everything and, for this reason and others, always astute, watchful to everything.

HISTORY: Coromswyth, and her twin brother Merydhan, were the only children of a scout and a warrior, both high ranking and respected. Merydhan followed their mother and father, becoming a warrior, and his agility and strength, inherited from their parents, were quickly embellished by the skill he quickly developed with weapons, and he rose quickly, being sent out on missions unusually soon. However, Merydhan had inherited something else from their father: pride. In 2509, when an ambush in the Redhorn pass attacked Celebrian when journeying to Lorien, Merydhan took on more than he should have done one day, refusing to retreat and fighting until the very end, standing beside their father, although there was no need. Pride killed both of them, her brother not five hundred years old at the time.

It was a terrible blow to both Coromswyth and her mother, who withdrew from her position as a scout. Her mother and father’s love had been so passionate and strong always, both feeling all emotion so strongly, and they had passed it on to their children. But despite the grief that gripped her so strongly that she would barely eat or sleep, Coromswyth’s mother refused to let her daughter succumb to the same, and so she immersed Coromswyth in her studies of...anything, really. In her desperate attempt to escape the pain of losing the brother so close to her that they had communicated even without speaking often, Coromswyth devoured everything presented to her, and began to dwell on battle techniques and on Men, starting with the Easterlings who within a year had taken over the Redhorn pass, and the battle which had killed her brother. She studied every angle of it, but rather than become twisted and bitter about the poor organisation, the foolish politics and cowardly ambush the Easterlings had planned against the elves, Coromswyth’s fascination began to grow and, sensibly, she promised herself that if she could possibly help it, nothing of the sort would ever happen again.

Celebrian departed over the sea that same year, but not before she granted Coromswyth and her mother a chance to come with her, in gratitude for their family’s attempted protection with their lives. Ever fading in the constant reminder of her life with her passionate husband, Coromswyth’s mother took this opportunity, and in 2510 sailed to the Grey Havens with Celebrian. Although it was like losing another family member, Coromswyth decided to stay, to continue her studies, and she threw herself into them with ever more vigour. Her knowledge grew rapidly, as she had always been clever and was able to advance quickly, and she became a useful asset for the elves in various matters. Now, as Lorien was once more under threat, she presented herself to Galadriel and Celeborn as an Ambassador, for her knowledge would keep them steady and her persuasive prowess hopefully strengthen their cause.


~*~*~*~

Whew! Ok, I will add my first post probably later on today - apologies for the slight delay, she has taken me a fair while to write. I hope you approve, Durelin

- Aman

EDIT: I will have to post my first post seperately, as there are too many HTML markers in both together.

[piosenniel]

Bringing this forward:

OUTLINE OF THE GAME:

• Army prepares to march from Dol Guldur (day 1)
• Mirkwood scouts discover army (day 1), and, as it begins to march toward Lorien, they decide to follow (day 2 – 3)
• Lorien envoy is on their way to the Woodmen (days 1 – 3), a good ways outside Lorien on day 1
• Envoy crosses path of army (the two are heading in opposite directions, and it is hard to avoid a large army), and are captured (day 3)
• Small force breaks off to take the captives back to Dol Guldur (day 3)
• Mirkwood scouts, following, are able to ambush (night day 3) this force and rescue the captives
• The scouts learn of the plans: a special force will attack from another direction and assault Caras Galadon (day 4)
• The elven party races back to Lorien from the north at the greatest possible speed – the trolls slow the baddies down (days 4 – 7)
• When they arrive (night day 9), the battle is about to begin:
  When the army reaches the Anduin around mid-day on the 9th day, they stop to put up the floating bridges. They plan to begin the attack soon after dawn the next day. The Mirkwood scouts + Lorien envoy reach the borders of Lorien a little before dusk, and reach Caras Galadon soon after dusk. A council of war then follows during the night.
• The plan of the special force is foiled, and the entire army retreats (day 11)

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TIMEFRAMES:

Time Periods (for a basic idea of the order of things):

Mikwood scout party scouts out and follows army (days 1 – 3)
Envoy captured – a party splits off to take captives back to Dol Guldur (day 3)
Envoy rescued – Plans of evil forces made clear (night of day 3 – day 4)
Race back to Lorien (days 4 – 7)
Defenders warned/inner defenders rescued from surprise attack (night of day 7 – day 8)
Lorien front lines hold off main force (day 9)
Enemy held – Retreat (day 11)
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PLEASE NOTE:

By request of the Barrow Wight, the Planning Thread and Discussion Thread for this game have now been merged.

The Discussion Thread begins at post #135.

~*~ Pio

[piosenniel]

Durelin

The RPG is now up and open for play.

Did you have any opening requests/instructions/pointers for the players?

~*~ Pio