The Fellowship of the Fourth Age (Part 1): A New Beginning Discussion Thread

[Tevildo]

This is my main character's profile. I'll work on the other profile and post as soon as I can.

Should I put the other profile and the beginning post in this same box?


Tevildo's Main Character:


NAME: Dorran

AGE: 39

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: As one of the Riders of Rohan, Dorran bears a sturdy broadsword that was given to him by Eomer, whom he served under during the War of the Ring. He also cherishes a hand carved bow and a jambiya, a dagger with a dual-edged curved blade that is seemingly of eastern origin. The latter were passed down to him by his long deceased father.

APPEARANCE: Tall and slender as a youth, Dorran has blossomed into a man with considerable physical gifts. He has a shock of brown curly hair, skin that is darker than most of his fellow Rohirrim, and earnest brown eyes. He still has the same serious expression and somber demeanor that he did in his teens. Although fairly good looking, he rarely thinks about his physical appearance. Even while serving the King at court, Dorran prefers to dress in simple servicable fashion, wearing a plain doublet over his tunic, along with high boots and breeches. In battle he adds a leather vest reinforced with chain mail.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Dorran's personality seemingly matches his quiet and unassuming outer appearance. He has more confidence than he did as a youth but still feels no need to push himself forward in front of others. He is patient and has considerable physical courage, having faced many foes on the field of battle. Yet it is still difficult for him to talk about his own past: the death of most of his family at the hands of Orcs and the years he and his sister spent as slaves in Mordor.

There are three people whom he feels deeply about: his wife Athwen, his sister Creide, and an elderly healer named Leod, who has been almost like a father to Dorran since the age of sixteen. He would give his own life for any of them. His love for his wife means everything to him, but sometimes he has trouble expressing that affection in words. He tends to keep some of his worries to himself and finds it difficult to talk about personal problems. Despite his silence, he is a loyal and concerned husband whose affections run deep.

Dorran has many skills that are of potential use in the Fellowship. He is a trained fighter and excellent rider who has spent much time caring for and training horses. Perhaps most importantly, he knows a great deal about the slave plantations and geography of Mordor.

HISTORY: Dorran and his sister Creide came to the village of Wulfham when they were tiny children, brought there from some identified place that lay towards the east by Raven, an elderly maiden aunt. Neither of the trio ever spoke of what had become of the childrens' parents. Whatever difficulties had befallen the family, they kept the story to themselves.

The aunt was a poor seamstress, barely holding body and soul together. Both Dorran and Creide had to be sent out in service at a very young age. After helping out in the households of several farmers in the region, the children found their way into the employ of Lord Aldwulf: Creide as a scullery maid and Dorran in the stables. With the passing of their elderly aunt, the march-warden and his lady had taken pity on the two and let them bed down in a tiny cellar room that faced onto the courtyard. The children were well behaved and generally accepted by the other villagers, though some wondered where they had come from. The Lord of Wulfham was a kind and honorable man and treated Dorran and his sister with much kindness.

When just sixteen years old, Dorran repaid his lord's generosity by volunteering for a dangerous mission: to ride to Edoras for help after a threatened Orc attack on the village of Wulfham. See Outracing the Flames RPG in the Shire. In the company of other volunteers, Dorran exhibited considerable courage and resourcefulness. This dangerous trek was also where he met his bride-to-be. Athwen's village had been attacked and destroyed by Orcs. She and the elderly healer Leod were the only two villagers surviving. Dorran eventually volunteered to join the Riders and serve under Eomer during the War of the Ring, but he returned to marry his beloved Athwen in the sixth year of the Fourth Age. Gradually, over the years, Dorran confided to his wife his experiences as a slave in Mordor and the death of his parents and brother.

He has also risen in favor with the King, initially taking care of the mearas at the royal household in Edoras. These steeds would even allow Dorran to ride and exercise them, which is most unusual. In recent year, the King has used Dorran as an emissary to the court of Minas Tirith when imporant matters had to be discussed.

Dorran and Athwen have been married thirteen years. While their union has been a happy one, it is marked by one sadness. Dorran had hoped for a son--a boy whom he could teach to ride and hunt, but their marriage has not yet been blessed with children.

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Tevildo's minor character

NAME: Azhar

AGE: 12 years old

RACE: Slave girl originally from the east

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Her hands and nails and whatever she can manage to defend herself. She also carries a slingshot and rocks in her pocket. However, her best defense has always been her ability to charm her way into the most unlikely hearts.

APPEARANCE: Azhar has a mass of curly black ringlets falling down her back, but these are usually tangled and matted. She is so scrawny that her ribs stick out and her clothes hang limply from her frame. Although her tanned olive face is dirty and her shift torn, she is an extraordinarily attractive girl. Her warm brown eyes attest to her lively mind and stubborn determination.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTH/WEAKNESSES

In a small world that alternates between terrible cruelty and complete indifference, Azhar is a tiny spot of brightness. Orphaned at a young age, the girl simply refuses to lay down and die. She is bright and resourceful and has managed to survive through the generosity of other slaves, her own intelligence, and her ability to manipulate others. She seemingly does not harbor the deep anger or bitterness characteristic of so many other slaves. Her duties are comparatively easy. She conveys buckets of water to the slaves in the field and runs other small errands for the guards. Her name means "flower" in one of the eastern tongues, although she does not even know this. She is truly a tough cactus flower blooming in an arid desert.

Yet this tale of rugged endurance does have a darker underside. Although Azhar does not possess a mean bone in her body, she does what she must to survive. She would never betray a close friend, yet she lies and steals with cold calculation. Even as a little child, she was aware of her good looks and charm and exploited these for all they were worth. With her extraordinary ability to soften even the coldest heart simply by walking into a room, Azhar has even been known to secure treats and special privileges from guards. Moreover, she has seen horrors that no twelve-year old should have witnessed and understands what will happen if she fails to curry favor. If she remains on the plantation until adulthood, she will likely lose all sense of right and wrong and turn into a hard hearted manipulator willing to use any means at her disposal to better her situation. Dreaming of a better life, she is determined to escape or die in the trying.

HISTORY:

She has none, at least if she remains on the plantation. Azhar is a child without a real future or a past.

_________________


Tevildo's post - Dorran

Dorran carefully threaded his way through the crowded streets and byways, reining in his mount so as not to collide with any of the citizens of Minas Tirith who were going about their business. The slow pace did not suit him. He was anxious to get home to his wife and discuss with her what had happened at court. He glanced down at his side to make sure the message from Elessar still sat securely in his pouch.

Dorran and his wife were supposed to be returning home in a few days. He had come to Minas Tirith as a messenger of the King of Rohan. Eomer had asked him to present four prized stallions as a gift of friendship to the people of Gondor as well as to convey a personal letter to Elessar. Dorran had made sure the horses were settled in the stables and that the king's servants understood how to train and care for them. This afternoon, Dorran had been formally received at court. He expected to deliver his message and be courteously dismissed to travel back to Edoras. He had been totally unprepared for what happened next.

The King had invited him to join a special band leaving the next day on a matter of supreme importance to both Gondor and Rohan. Dorran was not surprised that Gondor had enlisted his aid. There was a personal understanding between Eomer and Elessar that messengers to either court could be called upon to help when urgent needs arose during their stay.

What surprised Dorran was the nature of Elessar's request. The King had asked him to join a mission to Mordor, helping a band of slaves who had escaped from a plantation found a new community on the Plateau of Gorgoroth. Even more alarming was the fact that his wife was also invited to join the Fellowship. Although Athwen had amazing gifts as a healer and would be an asset on any mission of mercy, his wife lacked skill with weapons and often shrank back when he described to her some minor skirmish in battle from which he had escaped unscathed.

It was not only fear for Athwen's safety that made Dorran hesitent. More than any other member of the Fellowship, the Rider of Rohan knew just how dangerous it was to try and cross the Ash Plain and establish a settlement on Gorgorth. He had spent his youth as a slave in Nurn and made the treacherous journey out of Mordor in company with his sister. Once before, in the years immediately after the fall of Sauron, Dorran had returned to the Plains of Gorgoroth to try and clean out some of the vilest of the Orc gangs. His knowlege of Mordor, its twisted hills and lava-filled plains, had been one of the chief reasons that Elessar had included him in the new mission.

Dorran found it difficult to sort out his own feelings. Part of him feared a return to Mordor. The physical dangers of the trek were considerable but even those paled beside his own dark dreams of childhood. If those dreams afflicted him in Rohan after so many years, how much more likely were they to claim him if he journeyed deep into Mordor? Sauron might be dead and gone, but not for one moment did Dorran believe that the land had been cured of all its ills. Too much darkness remained.

Still, he could not turn his back on this mission and the possibility of helping slaves find a new life. He had sworn once that he would do all within his power to free others from the bondage that he and his family had endured. What better occasion than this? Nor could be deny his wife the chance to accept the king's commission. She might be uncertain at first, but Dorran was convinced that Athwen would never forgive herself if she passed up this chance to lend a hand of healing. It was up to him to help her believe in herself enough to accept this new challenge. There was no question what he must do.

With these thoughts reverberating through his mind, Dorran raced down the street and bounded into the house, running forward to sweep up Athwen within his arms. He leaned down and kissed her on top of the head; his words came tumbling out in excitement, "You have heard the news? The Fellowship of the Fourth Age..... It will not be easy, but how can we say no? There is so much need. Great need, and you and I will face it together just as we did long ago when we travelled the road to Edoras to secure help for the villagers who were threatened by orcs. Come over by the fire, and sit with me. We will talk."

Dorran gently led his wife over to the fireplace. They sat down near each other on the floor and spoke at length, sharing their hopes and fears. By the time the flames in the pit had dwindled to silver ash, their bargain had been made and sealed. Both Athwen and Dorran had agreed to give their consent to the king and journey to the distant land of Mordor in hopes of bringing help to the slaves.

[Tevildo]

Undómë -

What a profile. I can almost smell those Orcs! (Although soft spoken, Dorran is not fond of Orcs.)

Maybe Athwen can get those female Orcs to take a bath?

[Undómë]

Bath! Whatever for?



The profile for my minor character - Granny Brenna, the slave escapee, is now done.

~ U

[piosenniel]

Originally Posted by Tevildo

Should I put the other profile and the beginning post in this same box?

Good question! Yes, please put all your characters bios and your First Posts for the game in the same box.

That way, when it's time to transfer the posts to the game thread - it will be much easier to locate them.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio

[Folwren]

Here is my character's character bio. I will get the post written soon.

-- Folwren

_____________________

Folwren's Major Character:

NAME: Athwen

AGE: 39

RACE: Man, of the Rohirrim

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: None, generally. On this trip, however, she’ll carry a long knife, but nothing more, for she never learned the arts of war or how to use any weapon.

APPEARANCE: Short of stature - 5 feet and no inches. Slender and small. She has not lost her shape from child bearing, for she hasn’t had any children. Clear, dark and brilliantly blue eyes, waist length, wavy, golden blond hair, and a lightly tanned face.

PERSONALITIES/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Athwen is a gentle, calm woman, acquainted with danger, hardships, and intense sorrow, but having lived through all of them, has come out stronger and better able to meet the world. She is very observant of other people’s feelings and is able to relate to many different people. This is a good thing, as her husband, Dorran, doesn’t always like to speak much about his feelings, and sometimes Athwen has to really look for them.

She is optimistic most of the time and does her best to stay cheerful and keep everyone around here cheerful, too. Her personality is naturally bright and bubbly, and though that has been tamed by her past and her years, she is still pleasant.

Of course, there are times when she gets sad and withdrawn, at when that happens, she isn’t very talkative, nor very out going. These lapses come from dreams and feelings from her past, which was stormy and very difficult. They pass and after a few days, no one can tell they ever came.

HISTORY: Athwen was born twenty years before the War of the Ring, the middle child of five kids. She lived in a small hamlet somewhere in the realm of Rohan. There she lived her entire life, never leaving the area, until she was sixteen. Only a couple months after her sixteenth birth-date, ravaging orcs of Saruman came through and burned her village, killing everybody. Only she and an elderly healer survived. The healer hid beneath his home - Athwen was gone riding at the time of the attack. When she returned, she found the village in flames, and all the people dead.

Athwen would have died there, too, if a group of young riders had not passed that way. They took compassion on her and took her and Leod (the healer) into their company of riders. Dorran was a young man part of that group of riders. He was only a few months older than she. (This is also told about in Outracing the Flames RPG.)

She rode with them all the way to Edoras. She lived near that city in the stronghold of an Eorl of the Mark for the next several years. While she was there, before, during and a little bit after the War of the Ring, she studied under Leod and learned the arts of healing. In the year 6 of the 4th age, she and Dorran were married.

Since then, thirteen years have passed. Athwen has had no children, and the couple has accepted that she probably never will. Dorran works under the King Eomer and Athwen spends her time doctoring the poorer people of Edoras (she doesn’t worry about pay too much since Dorran can easily support her and her practice without any children to feed and clothe). She loves working with children especially, and with doing so, has gotten very good at setting bones and tending nasty, infected cuts and sores.

_______________________________________________


Folwren's post - Athwen

“Mistress Athwen, will it be alright?” the little boy asked.

Athwen smiled sweetly without looking up from her work. “Yes, it will be fine, so long as you do as you’re told and don’t touch it.” She gently swabbed at the cut with a clean, wet cloth. “That’s a nasty scratch you got yourself, lad,” she said. “How did you manage it?”

“My brother got me with a stick,” the boy replied. With his unwounded arm, he drew his sleeve across his nose. “Mum can’t stand the sight of blood and it hurt something awful. Are you sure it’ll be alright?”

Athwen nodded again to his urgent question. “Yes. Especially after I wrap it up. What was your brother doing with a sharp pointed stick?” She knew better than to add ‘he could have killed you with something like that!’, though it was obviously clear from the cut the child’s stick had inflicted. She asked herself mentally if all Gondorian boys were so violent.

“We were playing battle. Our father fought years ago in a great war and he tells about killing trolls and all kind of things. Berl was supposed to be the troll and I was Father because I’m smaller, but he didn’t like being the troll and he got mad.” Athwen nodded understandingly. She held the arm gently in her hand while she put down the wet cloth and picked up a roll of bandaging cloth. “Will that hurt?” her young patient demanded, stiffening. “When you wrap it around it, won’t it hurt?”

“Actually, it will feel good. I promise you it won’t hurt. Now, hold your arm out for me. I need both my hands to do this.” The boy obeyed and Athwen wrapped the arm from the wrist to nearly the elbow. She tied it on, securely but gently. “There you go, my man,” she said, stepping back. “You’re all patched up.” She smiled at him before turning away to talk to the boy’s mother, sitting nearby. “I’ve bandaged it up. The wrap will stay, so long as he doesn’t touch it. It will not stay on tonight when he sleeps, though, unless it is re-wrapped and re-tied carefully and he doesn’t toss and turn much in his sleep.”

“Will he be alright?” the woman asked anxiously, standing up.

“Yes, he’ll be fine. I cleaned it out and you came to me directly, so no infection had already settled in. I suggest you take away the sharp play things from your boys, though. You might have worse things to handle next time. Tomorrow morning, wash it again with soap and clean water. If you have any oil from the olive or any lavender, put that on it, and then wrap it with new cloth. Keep it wrapped gently until it scabs, and then be sure that he doesn’t pick at it.”

“We will. Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” Athwen replied with a smile. She nodded goodbye and waved to the boy as the two of them left.

Athwen turned to wash her hands and then clean up her work place. She was fastening the lid of the box with bandages and ointments when a knock came at the door. Her hands paused in their work, and then with a sigh, she stood up.

“I didn’t want another patient just now. I want Dorran.” But she still prepared a smile as she opened the door.

Instead of a young mother holding the hand of a crying child as Athwen half expected, there stood on the doorstep a young man wearing the black and white livery of the Citadel. She blinked in surprise.

“Lady Athwen?” the man asked. She nodded, expectant. “I was to deliver this to you.” He extended a letter and she reached out to get it.

“Thank you!” she said. He bowed and turned to walk away. She watched him go until he went out the gate into the road, then her eyes turned towards the letter. On the front of it her name had been written in black, swirling ink. Turning it over, she saw and recognized the impression of the king’s ring in the sealing wax. Again she had cause to blink her dark lashes at it.

Without looking up away from the letter, she closed the door and walked to the same chair that the boy’s mother had sat in. She lowered herself into it and then gently broke the wax. The fine, cream colored parchment made a soft crinkling sound as she opened it. The king’s seal was at the top and the letter that ran below it. She read the entire thing over once. . .twice, and then she put it down on her knees. Her blue eyes scanned the room in front of her. They passed over the table and chairs where she and her husband ate, the cupboards where dishes and food was kept, the pitcher of water standing on the counter, and the door leading back to another room. Then she picked up the letter again and read it a third time.

‘. . .to go with the fellowship to cure and to heal as your skills are required along the way. . .’

“To free the slaves and help them live on their own?” Athwen whispered. “He wants me to go? Clearly that’s what he’s asking. . .” She sat upright and refolded the letter. It would wait until Dorran returned and they could talk it over. His name was written on the list beneath the letter, but she didn’t know if he had accepted. They would discuss it when he returned home. Would he accept the mission himself? She knew what he had gone through in his past and she also knew how horrible it was for old memories to be stirred up. If he did not go, he would not want her to go, either, and she would not wish to go alone anyway.

She stood up and put the letter on the table. There it would wait until Dorran returned. Athwen put her hands to work, cleaning the house that was practically entirely clean already. Her mind turned the contents of the letter over and over again. Alone, though, she could not make up her mind of whether she wanted to go or not. But was it even a request? Or was it an order?

Whatever it was, it would wait until Dorran was home.



______________________________________

Folwren's Minor Character:

NAME: Kwell Dunfire

AGE: 13

RACE: Unknown, by both of us.

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A heavy, weighty stick about as tall as he is.

APPEARANCE: Kwell, having not yet had his real growth spurt yet, is still only 4’10”. He is built squarely with short legs and a short, powerful looking (even though he’s still a boy) torso. His arms, of course, have not yet developed the muscles of a man. His skin is dark, almost the olive looking color of skin, dark brown eyes that sometimes look black, sharp nose, small mouth, often pulled down on one side into a scowl. He has brown, very straight hair cut short.

PERSONALITIES: Kwell is drawn back within himself – quiet and slow to communicate with anyone he hasn’t known long. He is swift to anger and very quickly becomes impatient and harsh, and while he does trap it and keep it back, it is very clearly visible on his face and the way he moves and reacts to people around him. He rarely smiles, and never laughs. Whether or not he has a weak spot and may somehow become gentle in some way towards something or someone, I don’t know.

HISTORY: Born into slavery in Mordor, Kwell has worked all his life in the fields under the supervision and whip of orc slave drivers. There he learned to become angry, and to store it, and to pack it in and to let it out stealthily and in ways that would not get him into more trouble. He remembers none of his family, being taken away (sold) when he was just a toddler.

Kwell has lived on the same plantation all his life. He is unfriendly to most people there, but a few of the slaves he did attach himself with. One was an older man, intelligent, sharp, and quiet. But not long ago, he was killed at the whim of the one of the orcs. He was getting old and couldn’t do as much work. It didn’t matter if he died. Kwell was badly affected and became even more angry and hateful towards the orcs and even the other slaves. It was partially because of this man slave’s death that he joined the desperate group of slaves who tried to escape.

[Durelin]

Well, if you feel you can handle a minor character, Folwren, I don't see why not. Just: if you ever find you are unable of carrying him along and/or for any reason he kinda 'gets in the way' (which I doubt, as a minor character), would you be adverse to him meeting his death? (Thought I'd ask, just in case...)

But yes, I'm fine with it as long as Child is.

I have a question for you, Undome, about your minor character - is she an ex-slave as in part of the gang? Because if so, it would be well if you could explain that very briefly. I know minor characters only need brief bios, but since Khamir will have to have some kind of relationship with her, it would be nice to know.

The gang was kinda a rough bunch, so I that's why I'm so curious. There's no problem with your character as long as you find a way for her to fit into the gang.

Otherwise she can simply be a slave escapee.

Oh, and (this is to everyone) please say something if there is any confusion about the difference between 'ex-slaves' and 'slave escapees.'

Great bios everyone!

[Folwren]

Originally Posted by Durelin

Well, if you feel you can handle a minor character, Folwren, I don't see why not. Just: if you ever find you are unable of carrying him along and/or for any reason he kinda 'gets in the way' (which I doubt, as a minor character), would you be adverse to him meeting his death? (Thought I'd ask, just in case...)

But yes, I'm fine with it as long as Child is.

I'll wait until Child gets back, then, because she was the one who said no.

To answer your question (very reasonable question, too) - adverse, no. Reluctant, I would be, unless I so poorly developed him that I didn't care. But orders would be orders and I wouldn't not do it. I tend to like most of my characters, so of course there'd have to be some reluctance to do it, but I would if it came to it.

Does that satisfy you? Or will you change your mind now? Really, I'm at your mercy concerning this. I won't do it without both of your girls' permission.

-- Folwren

[Orofaniel]

B. Inhabitants of Mordor

1 Ex-slave (male) – PLAYER NEEDED

Hi.

Can I play the Ex-slave?

[Firefoot]

Oro! Haven't seen you around in a while.

Folwren, why so reluctant to kill of characters? It's fun. In a depressing sort of way.

As for my bio... soon. Before the end of the week for sure. First post to shortly follow.

[Undómë]

Too lazy to expand the bio -- will make Granny (EDITED) a slave escapee

Pio - please change me on the lists.

~ U

[Durelin]

Can I play the Ex-slave?

Well, as long as you have a bio and first post that works out, I believe so! Good to see you again, Oro.

Also, we'll have to discuss a minor character, and any times when you will be absent over the course of the game. We ask that everyone play a minor character, because we want every group well represented in the game. So, it is up to you if you play another ex-slave as your minor character, a slave-escapee, or an Orc.

Folwren - I was just curious as to your feelings about it. I am not looking to kill off any of your characters because I am bloodthirsty (bloodthirsty I may be, but I do have self-control), I simply wanted to know in case we run into any trouble with you being absent from playing either one of your characters.

Also, Firefoot, your choice of minor character is still up to you, as well.

[Folwren]

Originally Posted by Firefoot

Folwren, why so reluctant to kill of characters? It's fun. In a depressing sort of way.

Because! What's the darn good of developing a character and then killing him, unless there is some great lesson to learn? And even then, it's devistating! I've cried for hours (well, not for HOURS, but I cried a lot) over killing a simply wonderful character. . .and there was a good reason for killing her. It was sad, and I don't always like sad. Not when it comes to killing a poor person that I created. (I would hate being God.)

Now, Durelin and Child - don't get the wrong impression. I will be sure to write this character with the knowledge in mind that I may have to end up killing him, and I probably won't cry for him. Okay?

-- Folwren

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Sorry to jump in in the middle of a conversation, just wanted to check-in and say that I am currently working up Carl's bio. Once that is done I will try to catch up ASAP with the thread here! My, but it seems to be growing rapidly!