Blood Run: A Terror Returns Discussion Thread

[piosenniel]

Starting Location: The Town Hall in Bree

Likely destination: This adventure might take the characters out into the wilderness surrounding Bree, maybe even as far as the Weather Hills; or the characters may stay in Bree proper the entire game.

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The purpose of the story is to: Find out what is causing such problems for the village and get rid of the problem.

This means we will know the story is over when: Bree is back to its peaceful daily routine.

[piosenniel]

Timeframes:

This game takes place in the Fourth Age at around year 70.

The storyline itself or plot covers about a week, possibly more if things go poorly, possibly less if things go incredibly well.

This game requires a time commitment of 2-3 months from me, the game owner and from the major players. Unless there are major problems, we will be sticking to 3 months at the most for this game.

[piosenniel]

* No Further Players Needed * -- Pio


CHARACTERS NEEDED


Players/Characters List

• HOBBITS
  
  
• 1.) Firefoot - Toby Mugwort ?? NO LONGER PLAYING ??
  
  
• 2.) Newsman - Madoc Hurnt NO LONGER PLAYING
  
  
• 3.) Farael - Robby Twofoot NO LONGER PLAYING
  
  
• 4.) Dunwen - Sam Tunnelly
  
  
• MEN
  
  
• 1.) Durelin - Parkun Felderth
  
  
• 2.) Forest Elf - Grimbeorn Tinuviel
  
  
• 3.) Dimturiel - Erling Headstrong
  
  
• 4.) Crystal Heart - Eric Wadell NO LONGER PLAYING
  
  
• 5.) Finduilas – "Ash" (Aragorn) Winkle
  
  
• 6.) Thinlómien - "Lea" (Leanora) Winkle
  
  
• DWARF
  
  
• 1.) mormegil - Kuric Spearhead
  
  
• 2.) Groin Redbeard - Gorin Redbrow

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For any players considering an Elven character:


About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

[piosenniel]

Character types which would not belong: Any Orcs, any Mary/Marty-Sues.

[piosenniel]

Firefoot’s Character

Name: Toby Mugwort

Age: 67

Race: Hobbit of Bree

Gender: Male

Weapons: A longbow and a short knife not really meant for fighting.

Appearance: Toby stands at a fair height for a hobbit at 3’5”. He is hardly thin, and he credits the extra weight about his girth to his wife’s good cooking. He has a round, kindly face that is tanned from hours in the sun watching his flocks. His eyes and curly hair are both dark brown. His clothing consists of simple, handmade trousers and shirts.

Personality: Toby is a hobbit of simple loves and values. He loves his wife and seven children, which range in age from 30 – his oldest son, whom Toby intends to have take over the farm someday - to 14 – his youngest and much doted upon daughter. Like most hobbits, he loves a good meal, and he spends as many evenings as not enjoying an ale at the Prancing Pony, and is fond of smoking. He is a cheerful fellow, quick to laugh. He is both very trusting and very loyal. Well-liked and –respected, he has friends among both the Big and Little folk of Bree, although he pays little heed to the many travelers that pass through. Much as he loves simple pleasures, however, Toby is not at all simple minded, even if he is less quick on the uptake than some. He is very opinionated and not easily cowed. With this new threat to Breeland, Toby’s foremost concern is to protect both his family and his flocks.

History: All his life, Toby has lived in Buckland, in the same house just outside Bree, never traveling even as far as Buckland. He was the youngest child but only son of his parents’ five children, so he learned his father’s trade of sheepherding, helping him to run the farm and eventually inheriting it when he died (now some fifteen years ago). Toby never desired anything more than that simple life. He married Hanna, the daughter of a local farmer, when he was 34, and children followed soon after.

[piosenniel]

Durelin’s Character

Name: Parkun Felderth

Age: 25

Race: Man of Bree

Gender: Male

Weapons: A longbow and hunting knife, both of simple make.

Appearance: At just under six feet in height he is moderately tall; he has thin strawberry blonde hair that he keeps cut just above his shoulders, so he has just enough to pull back out of his way. His pale skin is covered in light freckles. He has hazel eyes and a delicate, slightly pointed and turned up nose. He is fairly skinny, though he has a little bit of extra weight at his gut. He is built lightly – the most strength appears to be in his shoulders.

Personality: Parkun is the shy, clumsy type. He seems constantly awkward in his own skin, and is especially awkward around women. He is not married and does not seem to want to be, but he is far from plainly not interested in the ladies. He is a very secretive person. Though he is native born to Bree and the son of the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony, no one in town knows much about him. He is a very dispassionate person, and doesn’t seem interested in much of anything. And though he is well into manhood, he still lives in a room in the Pony and works there, though he has expressed no desire for eventually taking over the inn from his father – he seems content to leave it to his older brother. Parkun is a simple person, desiring good things in life, and not worrying himself with anything else. His interest in the well-being of the town comes as a surprise to many, but a certain part of him desires to be a hero, for a variety of reasons. Also, his service will help keep his father off his back.

History: Parkun is the son of the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony, and grew up working in the inn and meeting interesting people. He was always most intrigued by the different people who came in and out of the inn, and he tended to stick his nose in business he shouldn’t have. Most of his youth he seemed to spend his time with the “wrong crowd,” and took particular interest in the shadier sorts who ventured into the inn. Yet, he was never caught doing anything more than stealing small items of food a few times. The townspeople never approved of his friends, but they have also never had any real complaints about Parkun, so he is largely accepted, particularly because his father is such a well-regarded and important resident. He is the second youngest boy in a family of five, with an older brother and sister, and two younger brothers.

[piosenniel]

First Post for the Game


All Toby’s life, Bree had been such a peaceful place. The Great War had ended, and the King crowned, and the last of the ruffians driven from Breeland, all in the years before his birth. As he had grown up, Bree had flourished, even undergone something of a rebirth, and it was in an age of peace and prosperity that he had started his own family and raised his children; Robbie – or Rob, as he was more often called now – would be ready to start his own family in a few years, and even young Lark was hardly a child now, but blossoming into a young maid. The years went by so quickly, and till now they had gone by with hardly a care.

Of course, there were always the small concerns of daily life; whether most of the ewes would beget healthy lambs in spring, or whether the summer would receive enough rain for the grass to grow thick and green. But Toby was not the worrying sort; Nature takes care of itself, he’d often said.

This wasn’t just the weather or the sheep, though. An unknown menace had been prowling the area at night, killing local livestock. Some simply went missing. Others were ripped apart. Toby had lost four sheep now, within the past two weeks. And just last night, his trusty herding dog Rudy had gone missing. He had found the remains near the edge of his land, barely recognizable as his beloved dog. He had buried him out there, both out of sentimentality and practicality; not only did it seem wrong to simply leave him out there, but Toby also knew that the scent of fresh blood might draw the beast back, and he wasn’t just thinking about the protection of his sheep.

This was about the safety of his family.

Unaccustomed worry lines had creased his face in the past couple weeks. He felt defenseless against this thing, whatever it was - something, or someone, and that was a chilling thought. Long discounted tales from his childhood came to mind, tales about the nameless things that stirred in the Wild. The Wild suddenly seemed a very nearby and menacing place to Toby, who had always considered Bree the safest (if the only) place he knew.

So far, the beast had been content to kill only animals – mostly sheep and pigs, but some cows as well, and now his Rudy, and he had heard tell of a couple cats that had gone missing as well. But who was to say that it might not get a taste for hobbit? No one had ever seen it; would it break in the door? Slip through a window?

Finally, finally now, the mayor had agreed to do something about it. Not that it was much; anyone could hold a meeting to discuss the events. The mayor, Toby thought bitterly, was more fit to head up the social events of the town than to protect it from any real threat. Of course, up until a little while ago, that had been sufficient and Toby had never had much of a complaint. As long as something might happen as a result of the meeting… no, something would happen. Toby would not let the meeting end before a plan of action had been decided on. He himself would head it up if need be. Those town folk, Toby wasn’t sure if they really understood the seriousness of the matter, but there were others who lived out here outside the town walls, others who had the same fears as he, and they would follow him, he knew. They had just as much stake in this as he had – their lives and families to protect.

There had to be something he could do.

—Firefoot

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Mayor Hershman of Bree – a tall, willowy man with a large nose and a genuine smile – stood on a small platform at the front of the fair-sized hall. The room before him was filled with worried, excited, and angry townsfolk. He knew he had waited too long to call this meeting, and he knew that still this was not quite what the people were looking for. At times like these, people wanted action. But no one knew what was going on…did they expect him to know any better?

The people stood clumped together, and voices at various level echoed around the hall. Mayor Hershman did his best to look stately, but he found it uncomfortably warm in the town hall, though it was barely spring. The five elder “counselors” that aided him in his duties were seated behind him. Hershman glanced at them, searching their faces for something. Did the people really look to him and these men to help them? They were old men, including himself!

After the mayor felt he had watched enough people – men, women, and entire families – enter the town hall, he gave a nod to one of the counselors, who called the room to order and relative quiet with a booming voice and the ringing of what was little more than a cowbell. It worked well enough. Mayor Hershman wasn’t exactly soft-spoken, anyway.

“Breelanders,” he began, loudly but not as if he were shouting, “our livestock, our pets, and perhaps even ourselves and our families are in danger.” Of course a new set of murmurs and voices not so soft ran through the crowd, but no one was shocked by the mayor’s statement. Everyone knew it was true, everyone knew it was on all of their minds, and everyone knew Hershman never wasted any time skirting an issue – at least once he got down to it.

“I am just as lost as you – no, I know of no one, either, who has seen this…this menace…and though I know that no matter what we’re up against, that we’re going to fight it with all we’ve got-” he paused, and there were a few shouts; not all the hearts in Bree had grown soft, even in this time of peace. But very few of them had actually faced any enemies before. It was Bree…nothing ever happened in Bree…

And yet, Hershman thought he remembered a story…no, those were never true.

“But before we can do a thing to stop…whatever, or, heaven forbid, whoever is threatening us, we have to figure out what we’re up against.” He paused to clear his throat, and this time there was mostly silence. Anyone in this hall could have come up with that thought, he knew. “Now, I know we all have what it takes to protect our land and our loved ones, but in this fearful time, I am calling for a group of Defenders of Bree…to be led by Toby Mugwort, a strong-hearted Breelander since birth.”

The shepherd had already proved to be a loud and dynamic voice in this matter, particularly with what he had already lost to this invisible threat. And the world knew that Hobbits could do great things. Allowing the duty that he hoped many would feel sink in, Mayor Hershman slowly scanned the room, making sure not to really look at anyone in particular, but taking in familiar faces. “Who else will answer the call?” The town hall was suddenly filled with a greater clatter than had been heard in Bree in many years.

—Durelin