The Fall of the North Planning/Discussion Thread

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

PLACED ON GAME PLAN ~*~ PIO

Name: Bethiril

Age: 5488

Race: Eldar

Gender: Female

Weapons: She has never touched a weapon, let alone owned one. She is disdainful of implements of war, never learning how to wield one even when she participated in the battle of Eriador in the Second Age. She has always deemed it her mission to make sure that they not be needed anymore.

Appearance: Being of pure Noldorin descent, Bethiril has black hair framing her unusually calm face with quiet grey eyes. She is scarcely less tall than most males of Elves and Men of the West, and is usually clad in garments little less luxurious than those worn by members of the kingly houses. On the ring finger of her left hand she wears a ring adorned with a gem of sapphire shaped like the flowers of Menelluin, the wheat of Yavanna, surrounded by six small yellow crystals, fashioned by Enerdhil for Idril’s handmaidens, which she now uses as a symbol of her service to Elrond, son of Eärendil, daughter of Idril.

Personality: Being an emissary, her speech is guarded and her emotions are bottled up at all times. Bethiril shows admirable command of her tongue, blending well-crafted words and deep passion in her speeches that stir all but the hardest hearts. Around fighting men she seems aloof and cold, perhaps thinking that she is higher than they are, not having stained her hand with the blood of any that live.

History: Bethiril was born a few months before the Fall of Gondolin, escaping from that dreadful plight when her mother’s sister, one of Idril’s handmaidens, led her mother to Tuor and his soldiers fleeing with Idril and her son from the wrack of the city. Of her father she had no news, though she knew in her heart that he fell to the Orcs when Maeglin betrayed the Way to Morgoth. Her mother was slain when the Sons of Fëanor assailed the havens of Sirion. She escaped with her mother’s sister to the isle of Balar. After the fall of Angband she took the ship to Eldamar, while Bethiril remained with the Elves of Lindon to serve Elrond, who she deemed Turgon’s heir, and therefore her lord.

She was with the host led by Elrond that Gil-galad sent to Celebrimbor’s aid, to act as an emissary between the two armies of the Eldar. They were, however, driven back to the Misty Mountains. There, they were besieged in newly founded Imladris until the Númenóreans came and destroyed the black host. After the Downfall of Númenor and Sauron’s assault on Gondor she was one of the emissaries that shuttled between Lindon, Imladris, and Lórien when the Last Alliance was formed.

Ever since the march of Elrond to Mordor she had never left Imladris. Until now.


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Nilpaurion Felagund’s post:

It seems to be her fate to be stuck in sieges.

Bethiril was less than a year old when Morgoth unleashed his might and destroyed Gondolin in a short and bitter siege. She had been with her lord Elrond when Gil-galad’s expeditionary force to Eregion was driven away by Sauron’s Orcs to the feet of the Misty Mountains and contained there for three years.

And now this.

She and her guard had been caught on the walls of the highest level when the Orcs finally broke through the second wall of Fornost Erain. She had just been in the city a few weeks before, hammering out the final details of the alliance that all had hoped would crush the menace of Angmar with great fists from the West and the East.

It seems that the treaty had been too late. In Bethiril’s eyes, the might of the Dúnedain of the North had crumbled with their walls.

“Milady, we must now flee to the King’s courts,” her guard pleaded, knowing the great danger of staying in the open.

Bethiril did not stir. She watched as the black tide flowed through the breach of the dike. The siege weapons far behind rolled a few furlongs forward, and then stopped.

She was raging inside, though none could guess from her impassive gaze. How she hated the tumult of battle! How she hated lives being cut down by the thousands before their time, when the chances of the world were enough trouble for Elves and Men.

A boulder crashed a few feet below her. The stone wall of the Norbury of the Kings seemed to have endured the blow, but she saw cracks appear in it, the ravages of war seeking to increase its foothold in this great city of Men. Soon, this, too, shall crumble.

“Yes, we must,” she said, turning suddenly around and walking swiftly ahead of her guard to the King’s sanctum.

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*Author's note: The guard mentioned in my post may or may not be a/the character played by Garen. As I said in my suggestion to Kransha, my character is but a special (one-time) envoy. The regular embassy would merit the better security.

[Saurreg]

Osse's first post is one of the best I have ever read in the barrowdowns RPG forum. It's got the right mix of dread, excitment and the well-polished descriptive scene of bloody battle that only a good writer like him can deliver. His structuring and syntax is a good reference for a learner of the language like myself. I will try to be a worthier writer in order to complement his fine style.

Kransha, I feel that it is only right that Osse's first post preceed mine and the other writers' who chose to describe the scene of battle not only because it is a wonderful one, but he had gone to great lengths to write about the moments just before the gates opened. What say you?

[alaklondewen]

BIO PLACED ON GAME PROPOSAL ~*~ PIO

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Which one?

Sailing Away, Corsairs and Corsets, A House Divided, Resettling the Lost Kingdom, A Land to Call Their Own, Land of Darkness

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

List them, please: Friends of Nimrodel (Tapestry of Dreams) and Shadow of the West

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn – YES
_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Ereglin

AGE: 2066

RACE: Sindar

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Ereglin carries a long, narrow-bladed sword. The wooden hilt is wrapped tightly in thick tanned leather that is worn from many years. Its crossguard is slightly curved toward the blade, and each end is marked with a decorative spiral engraved into the steel. This sword, he used in the final battle of the Second Age, but has had little need to do so since, except in exercise. Ereglin prefers to use his bow, however, for his eyes are keen, as they are for all his kin, and his aim is precise.

APPEARANCE: Ereglin is of average elven height, yet still tall compared to Men. His frame is small, but he is muscular enough to wield his sword if need be. Two small, golden braids frame his chiseled feature and square jaw. The remainder of his hair falls straight down to the small of his back. His dark grey eyes overlook his small straight nose. His ivory skin is smooth like that of a youth, but his eyes are cold, and his expression is hardened.

He normally wears lightweight trousers and a tunic in various shades of blues and greens with a grey flowing robe covering all. However, with battle raging, he is wearing a light-weight armor made by the smiths of Mithlond. He is still wrapped in his robe, with his scabbard beneath and his bow strapped to his back.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Ereglin has always been an aspiring elf who knew what he wanted and was not afraid to do what was needed to get it. This confident, hard-working attitude landed him with a strong positive image in Mithlond. However, what might be seen as a wonderful strength is also his weakness. Ereglin’s wanting of power and high status caused him to overlook some of the more important things, and people, in his life. He can easily be seen as charming to those in his political circles, but he is quietly unhappy...his real emotions are hardened, but he can easily say what someone needs to hear and be believable.

HISTORY: Ereglin was sent to Fornost as an Ambassador of Cirdan when controversy arose concerning Arvedui’s claim to the throne of Gondor. The Emissary provided conservative council based on Cirdan’s wishes, ensuring the conflict did not blow out of proportion and the rightful heir be crowned. However, secretly, Ereglin wished for Arvedui to gain the kingship of all of Gondor as he hoped this would allow himself to rise to a more powerful position in both the Elven and Human realms. The elf was bitter when Arvedui was denied, but he did not voice his complaints, as he cherished his position and did not want to jeopardize his duty to Cirdan.

The conflict over the Gondorian crown was not the only controversy in Ereglin’s life at that time. When Cirdan offered the emissarial position to Ereglin, the elf immediately accepted only to find his wife, Ardae, was against their going. After many debates, the elf remained steadfast in his decision to go to Fornost and discord arose in his home. Ardae resented him for many years, missing her family and the ways of their people. As a result, he found himself becoming more and more consumed with the politics between Arnor and Lindon, escaping the tension at home.

As the force of Angmar grew, the violence against Arthedain become more frequent. The regions in the east were being conquered by the witch-king and Ereglin recognize a real threat against Fornost. Three years before the major assault began, Ereglin sent Ardae back to Mithlond to ensure her safety. He hated watching her ride away in the company of elven guards that accompanied her, and he some part of him wished he had not come to Fornost at all, but he was too proud to admit it or resign from his position. With his wife gone, Ereglin became cold, hardened by the sadness of his failure to make her happy and the looming danger that made him send her away.

~*~*~

I hope this is satisfactory...I will have the first post up as soon as possible.

~Alak

[Garen LiLorian]

First post up.

[Mithalwen]

BIO POSTED TO GAME PLAN ~*~ PIO

Name: Erenor
Age: 3000
Race: Eldar

Gender: Female

Weapons: Erenor has a long curved sword , product of the great skill of the Noldorin smiths as wellas a shorter dagger. She also has a shirt of fine steel mail that like the dagger may be concealed.

Appearance: She has the typical Noldorin coloring of dark hair and grey eyes. Although she is fair of face she has a grave demeanour. Because of her serious role she wears serious clothes usually in grey and blue. Although they are not unfeminine they are less ornate than usual for female elves and she seldom wears much in the way of jewellery or adornment save a sapphire pendant. When travelling she dresses after the fashion of elf men deeming it more practical.

Personality: Stern and unsentimental, determined and a little arrogant, Erenor is sometimes a little more plain speaking than usual for an emmissary. She does not suffer fools gladly. She is a pragmatist and regards warfare as a necessary evil and does not shy away from combat.

History: Born in Lindon late in the second age to a noble noldorin house, Erenor is the desendent of Gondolin. Her father was a general of Gil-Galad and like him did not return from the War of the Last Alliance. Forbidden to go to war, she learned to fight with sword and bow in case at the last war came to her, and the womenfolk needed to mount a last ditch defence of Lindon. She went with many of her kin to Rivendell when their king did not return.

[piosenniel]

Here's where the players/characters stand so far:

CHARACTER/PLAYER LIST

Dúnedain of Arthedain

1) Dúnedain Captain – Kransha (Hírvegil)
2) Dúnedain Counselor/Lord – CaptainofDespair (Mitharan)
3) Dúnedain Lieutenant (to the captain) – Saurreg (Belegorn)
4) Dúnedain Soldier – Osse (Carthor)
5) Dúnedain Woman - Lalwendë (Renedwen)
6) Dúnedain Woman (wife of the soldier) - Nuranar (Lissi)
7) Male Dúnedain Youth (16 y/o child of the woman and soldier) – Novnarwen (Brander)
8) Male Dúnedain Youth (17 y/o sibling to Novnarwen's character – Amanaduial the Archer (Faerim)

~*~

Elves of Lindon

These will be from the Grey Havens, lorded over by Círdan the Shipwright. It is know that the Kings of Arthedain had good relations with Círdan, because of their military aid in the past.

1) Elf Emissary– male - alaklondewen (Ereglin) - ** FIRST POST NEEDED **
2) Elf Guards – Arry (Gaeredhel & Rôsgollo)

~*~

Elves of Rivendell

The Elves of Rivendell did not necessarily share a bond with the people of Arnor, but they did come to their aid once or twice, predominantly in the year immediately following the Fall of Arthedain, led by Glorfindel. It is likely that Imladris and Arthedain were conducting some kind of negotiations, since Arvedui was, before the Fall, sending out pleas for assistance on all fronts.

1)Elf Emissary – - Nilpaurion Felagund (Bethiril)
2)Elf Emissary - Mithalwen (Erenor) - ** FIRST POST NEEDED **
3)Elf Guard - Garen LiLorian (Maltóre <called Angóre>)

[Novnarwen]

I'm very sorry for being so late. I apologise!

PLACED ON GAME PLAN ~*~ PIO

Novnarwen's post

Brander had been sitting on a wooden stool for several hours now, in the middle of the bedroom, second floor of his family’s residence. Silently, he listened to the noises that filled the air. By hearing the sound of steel against steel, the cries of pain and roars of either personal victory or of horror, the blind boy managed to make images in his head of every aspect of the battle. He could almost see the soldiers struggling against hordes of Angmar, trying to manoeuvre the enemy into defeat. He could see everything so clearly, probably clearer than others who had a perfect vision; the sky was dark, choking every happy moment in the soldiers’ memory as they fought what seemed to be an endless battle. As a carpet, the heavy clouds lay floating over them, deep and threatening, suppressing every good feeling which still remained in their tired bodies. Fright and terror took command over them and forced the men to turn around to meet their worst fear; not the orcs themselves, but death. Death and defeat. They knew in their hearts that they, soldiers, were the symbol of hope during this battle; if they were defeated, there would be no hope left.

At times when he sat there, quietly by himself, feeling useless and weak, his brother, Faerim, and his father, Carthor, appeared in a long series of images, both in the ongoing battle. Did any of the cries of pain and despair belong to them? He wondered. Brander had never cared much for his father. He neither loved nor hated him. Indifference, one could call it. Now however, realising that death was so close, he felt badly about his feelings towards the man who had bred and fed him. Was he not grateful for what his father, and mother, had given him? To some extent he was, Brander admitted. The problem was not what Carthor had given him, it was what he hadn’t, which, in Brander’s eyes, were far more important than other things. His father had never given him what most fathers gave their sons, such as confidence, trust and responsibility. Carthor had never been proud of him either, partly because Brander had never really achieved anything significant, which was most due to his blindness, but Carthor had never given him the chance to do anything either. Brander tried being independent, tried trusting his own abilities more than others’ willingness to help, but it was hard when he was always being looked down on, not only by his father, but also by others. Society in general seemed to hate the fact that he was blind and decided thus to ignore him. He was educated and young; it should not be hard for a man like himself to get work. In his case it was however. Brander had tried many a time, but everything had resulted in the same manner.

He closed his eyes hard, tried thinking about something else; in fact, anything else. His mind failed him. His father was out there; he was indifferent about what happened to him. He hoped on the other hand, that his brother would return home safely. He and his mother Lissi had expected Faerim for the last hour, but his brother had not come back. What ill has befallen him? Brander wondered. Even though his brother was always favoured by their father, he loved his brother. There were few who treated him the way he did, equally and with respect. If Faerim died, Brander would also.

**

Slowly, time went by. It seemed that while he’d been sitting on the stool, thinking about his brother and father and listening to the sounds from the ever growing battlefield just inside the walls of Fornost, he had forgotten how hungry and how tired he was. Now drowsiness was sneaking upon him, as a sly enemy, making his eyelids heavy. He stood up and walked silently over to the bed in the corner of the room. His brother would come; in the meantime, he could sleep.

Everything he’d heard when being awake, the sound of the wall falling and the men crying, had surely been tucked into his sub consciousness and was currently depriving him of the good sleep usually brings. The images he had so effectively and eagerly created, haunted him. The uneasiness he felt could be seen as pearls of sweat bathed his forehead and doubled quickly in number. He lay trembling with fear as the face, or the image, of Faerim appeared in front of him. His whole figure seemed to rise up in front of him, enlarging by every second passing. Suddenly, a bow, right in front of him, was spent. An arrow, as fast as the eagles fly, ran through the air, almost touching the dark clouds; its target had been carefully planned in advance. A scream of horror echoed. A man sunk to the ground, his face halfway buried in the sand. He writhed in pain, rolling back and forth, until he rolled no longer. The features in his sombre face could be determined by a weak source of light; the image of the pale face belonged to without a doubt his dear brother Faerim.

Brander opened his eyes wide. With tears in his eyes, he realised that the arrow had not been sent by his brother; the bow had been spent by an unknown enemy, hidden in the shadows. He rose quickly to his feet, greatly alarmed by this frightening, but yet realistic dream. “It cannot be true,” he muttered to himself, “It cannot.” He wanted to call for his mother, but the thought of making her worried with his dream, seemed to be the dumbest thing he could do. After all, it was only a dream. Nothing more. When thinking it through though, he realised that the man in the dream might as well have been his father. I’m blind, he thought, I don’t know how either of them look like. It’s only an image, an image of a person I don’t know. This seemed to comfort him, and with renewed hope in seeing his brother come home soon, he took his position on the stool again and waited.


****

Please let me know if it needs any edits. Osse - I hope I haven't put Carthor in a bad light. Please tell me if you want me to change anything and I'll edit accordingly. I think it can be interesting with some ‘family-intrigues’ though..

It's great seeing all the profiles and the posts! This is going to be a really great game! That's for sure! Can't wait!

Cheers,
Nova