The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Breelanders All! Discussion Thread

09-25-2003, 12:02 PM

Character Description Form:
Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - No I haven't. But I have played in RPG's on various other websites. And have much skill in different ways.

How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?
None at this time. Hoping for some soon.

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one?
No, neither, but hope too soon.

For your character please include:

NAME: Uther Donnovin

AGE: 52

RACE: Breelander (Man)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Large Dwarf-Made Axe of Bronze, and a Stout Short Sword of Steel

APPEARANCE: Tall and menacing is Uther, a man of Bree. Dark crimson hair in curls down to his shoulders, which are as broad as many-a river. His face is dark and grim, and he has a golden-brown tan from working on his farm house. He dresses in the manner of most men of Bree, save the large Bronze axe. It is said that in his youth, when he traveled away from Bree and out to the Misty Mountains he saved a dwarf from a pack of wargs and was rewarded with it, and never does it leave his belt (Save when he uses it). He is older, and gray creeps into his red curls, but still strong as an ox is Uther.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: He is a man of honor and pride. He enjoys good ol' manual labor by day and good beer and song by night. Always ready for a joke or a good tale, he enjoys the simple things in life. Lately, however, with all the trouble in Bree he's been a bit edgy. And the news that Bree could be in danger not only from the drought and heat but from other more fell things, has him on edge.
Greatest of his strengths is his body. "Ox Man" was his nickname in Bree in his youth, for he has incredible strength. And while now 52 years of age, he is still as strong as he ever was. He also has a dwarf-made axe, and while the weapon is void of any magical power, it is strong and sturdy, and when swung by a man of great strength, can be a most devastating weapon.
But he is older, and cannot move swift or silent. He was never one for much lore or schooling, only for action. (Though he knows many tales of old). And he is not found of Wargs, or Goblins for that matter, and is a good slayer of the beast. But not having hewed anything but wood for many years, he may rush into a battle he cannot win, without caring if it means his pride and honor. He also, while no child ever was his, would do anything to save his nephew Arthur II.

HISTORY: Uther, son of Druther, was born in the village of Bree. His older brother, Arthur and he lived in their old farm house in Bree.. When he was only 16 years of age his father took him on a trip to the Misty Mountains, there they found a old dwarf(Borlin) whom had been on his way through with friends and was now lost. They helped him search for his friends only to find the three other dwarves had become a meal for wargs. Uther and Druther, and their new Dwarf companion beat down the wargs and took from their stash a great bronze axe which had been on of Borlin's friends. It was to be given to Druther as a present, but before it could a great warg who had stayed in the shadows and watched the display of horror could no longer contain his lust and attacked. It was felled quickly by Borlin, but it wounded Druther in the processes and killed him. The axe was given to Uther, who then returned to Bree and took over Druther's farm, as Arthur, who was younger, worked for many-a year until he reached the age of 20, when he went off away from Bree to “Open a horse ranch”. Uther stayed in Bree the rest of his life (To this point) save once when he turned 24 and his mother died, the rage made him unbearable of the memories of Bree, so he left for a good deal of time. He return two years later, after having gone over the Misty Mountains and eventually down to the Gap of Rohan. He grew weary of wandering and despite the pain of memories, returned to Bree. There he stayed and has ever since worked on the farm, alone. He gets his share of respect and disrespect from his community. And cares not as long as he has good work by day, and good ale by night. And of course, an occasional audience in the Inn to tell his tales to, if any should listen. Recently however, his Brother Arthur’s daughter and grandson, Arthur II appeared before him. Arthur had his dream. After leaving some 31 years before, he went to Rohan and was able to become a stable owner and horse breeder alongside the Rider of Rohan. Arthur had a daughter after entering Rohan, and she wed, giving birth to a young son, Arthur II. Arthur was killed by a horse after a tragic accident, and his son-in-law, a Rider of Rohan, was killed by an Orc. His wife, Arthur’s daughter, could not raise Arthur II alone, and bore him to Uther to live.

------------------

Golden Presents: Post- Uther

(Just a bit of a sample of a typical day for Uther)
_____________________________________________

Golden's post - Uther

Bloody heat. Never gave a man a moments rest now in these days, or so thought the tall man who was thinking it. And that blazing orange-gold sun was no help. Not a cloud in the sky, pity, they were long past do a good shower of rain, falling onto the grass and their heads of hair lightly and blissfully with a grace like an elvish dance. Uther pulled along down the street, his long crimson curls behind him, billowing in a brief moment of wind.

Bree was a nice town, that’s what Uther had always believed. Full of good hearted men, and little folk. Indeed, they were weird, those hobbits, but he could tolerate a bit of queerity, for he had learned that hobbits make rather good cooks.

He was now on his way to the local Inn for a pint, and perhaps a chat. There was usually someone who he could tell to his tale of the time he and his now long-dead father Druther ventured into the Misty Mountains. Thought he had told it to practically everyone who would listen. And if none would let it be told, maybe he'd hear some odd tale from one of them Rangers. They usually had something.
Not that Uther was an adventurous man, he preferred to stay right here in Bree, Thank-you-very-much, but he always enjoyed a good tale of bravery and hard work. And perhaps a hard kill. It was hard work and hard kills that made men, men. Not that he expected one from one of them little folk. They seldom, if ever, had such good tales.

With a long sigh he arrived at the Inn, and was glad too. It was so hot outside, especially after a few hours of good ol' manual labor, but still in this heat it wasn't as much fun. Past the wooden gates and through the oak doors until at last he was at the threshold of the Inn and it's wonderful bar. He entered and called over to the barkeep at once.

"Aye, o'er here, how 'bout a pint fella!"

He gruffed and sat down at a dark table in the corner. He could see all kinds here. Small little hobbits busy with their own things. One thing he admired about them was they were good farmers. He, being a farmer himself, knew it well. Busy men talking and drinking merrily, always a fun sight and more fun to join. Those odd Rangers talking in whispers to each other, odd folk, but they had the look of men who were used to hard work, so Uther gave them some respect. And the occasional Dwarf or (rarely) Elf who would pass by.

With a grunt he thanked the Barkeep as his ale was brought over, quickly downing nearly half the glass. He was a big man and even bigger to the Hobbits and Dwarves. But he had great respect for Dwarves, now there were fellows who knew about hard work and labor! Why, when he was only a lad and had out-worked some of the older men of the village, they claimed he was related to Dwarves. Of course, now that he was 7'1" that was a ridiculous idea, as it had always been. But still, he respected the little bearded men.

These were the thoughts on the big mans brain as he drink the sweet tasting ale. He loved Bree with a passion. He loved the grass, as green as one could hope for, and the waters, crisp and blue and clean. It was a nice little town. The Inn was his home away from the farm. The dark common-room lit by the flickering ruby flames of the fire, the large pint at his large hands. The many faces, people. Oh it was a good place. And not a bad place for little Arthur II to live in, either. No, his nephew, grandson of his brother, was in good hands here. Strong hands. The hands of Uther, the "Ox Man"

_____________________________________________

[ September 25, 2003: Message edited by: Golden ]

[ September 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

09-25-2003, 12:02 PM	#24
Golden Guest Posts: n/a	Character Description Form: Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - No I haven't. But I have played in RPG's on various other websites. And have much skill in different ways. How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? None at this time. Hoping for some soon. Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one? No, neither, but hope too soon. For your character please include: NAME: Uther Donnovin AGE: 52 RACE: Breelander (Man) GENDER: Male WEAPONS: Large Dwarf-Made Axe of Bronze, and a Stout Short Sword of Steel APPEARANCE: Tall and menacing is Uther, a man of Bree. Dark crimson hair in curls down to his shoulders, which are as broad as many-a river. His face is dark and grim, and he has a golden-brown tan from working on his farm house. He dresses in the manner of most men of Bree, save the large Bronze axe. It is said that in his youth, when he traveled away from Bree and out to the Misty Mountains he saved a dwarf from a pack of wargs and was rewarded with it, and never does it leave his belt (Save when he uses it). He is older, and gray creeps into his red curls, but still strong as an ox is Uther. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: He is a man of honor and pride. He enjoys good ol' manual labor by day and good beer and song by night. Always ready for a joke or a good tale, he enjoys the simple things in life. Lately, however, with all the trouble in Bree he's been a bit edgy. And the news that Bree could be in danger not only from the drought and heat but from other more fell things, has him on edge. Greatest of his strengths is his body. "Ox Man" was his nickname in Bree in his youth, for he has incredible strength. And while now 52 years of age, he is still as strong as he ever was. He also has a dwarf-made axe, and while the weapon is void of any magical power, it is strong and sturdy, and when swung by a man of great strength, can be a most devastating weapon. But he is older, and cannot move swift or silent. He was never one for much lore or schooling, only for action. (Though he knows many tales of old). And he is not found of Wargs, or Goblins for that matter, and is a good slayer of the beast. But not having hewed anything but wood for many years, he may rush into a battle he cannot win, without caring if it means his pride and honor. He also, while no child ever was his, would do anything to save his nephew Arthur II. HISTORY: Uther, son of Druther, was born in the village of Bree. His older brother, Arthur and he lived in their old farm house in Bree.. When he was only 16 years of age his father took him on a trip to the Misty Mountains, there they found a old dwarf(Borlin) whom had been on his way through with friends and was now lost. They helped him search for his friends only to find the three other dwarves had become a meal for wargs. Uther and Druther, and their new Dwarf companion beat down the wargs and took from their stash a great bronze axe which had been on of Borlin's friends. It was to be given to Druther as a present, but before it could a great warg who had stayed in the shadows and watched the display of horror could no longer contain his lust and attacked. It was felled quickly by Borlin, but it wounded Druther in the processes and killed him. The axe was given to Uther, who then returned to Bree and took over Druther's farm, as Arthur, who was younger, worked for many-a year until he reached the age of 20, when he went off away from Bree to “Open a horse ranch”. Uther stayed in Bree the rest of his life (To this point) save once when he turned 24 and his mother died, the rage made him unbearable of the memories of Bree, so he left for a good deal of time. He return two years later, after having gone over the Misty Mountains and eventually down to the Gap of Rohan. He grew weary of wandering and despite the pain of memories, returned to Bree. There he stayed and has ever since worked on the farm, alone. He gets his share of respect and disrespect from his community. And cares not as long as he has good work by day, and good ale by night. And of course, an occasional audience in the Inn to tell his tales to, if any should listen. Recently however, his Brother Arthur’s daughter and grandson, Arthur II appeared before him. Arthur had his dream. After leaving some 31 years before, he went to Rohan and was able to become a stable owner and horse breeder alongside the Rider of Rohan. Arthur had a daughter after entering Rohan, and she wed, giving birth to a young son, Arthur II. Arthur was killed by a horse after a tragic accident, and his son-in-law, a Rider of Rohan, was killed by an Orc. His wife, Arthur’s daughter, could not raise Arthur II alone, and bore him to Uther to live. ------------------ Golden Presents: Post- Uther (Just a bit of a sample of a typical day for Uther) _____________________________________________ Golden's post - Uther Bloody heat. Never gave a man a moments rest now in these days, or so thought the tall man who was thinking it. And that blazing orange-gold sun was no help. Not a cloud in the sky, pity, they were long past do a good shower of rain, falling onto the grass and their heads of hair lightly and blissfully with a grace like an elvish dance. Uther pulled along down the street, his long crimson curls behind him, billowing in a brief moment of wind. Bree was a nice town, that’s what Uther had always believed. Full of good hearted men, and little folk. Indeed, they were weird, those hobbits, but he could tolerate a bit of queerity, for he had learned that hobbits make rather good cooks. He was now on his way to the local Inn for a pint, and perhaps a chat. There was usually someone who he could tell to his tale of the time he and his now long-dead father Druther ventured into the Misty Mountains. Thought he had told it to practically everyone who would listen. And if none would let it be told, maybe he'd hear some odd tale from one of them Rangers. They usually had something. Not that Uther was an adventurous man, he preferred to stay right here in Bree, Thank-you-very-much, but he always enjoyed a good tale of bravery and hard work. And perhaps a hard kill. It was hard work and hard kills that made men, men. Not that he expected one from one of them little folk. They seldom, if ever, had such good tales. With a long sigh he arrived at the Inn, and was glad too. It was so hot outside, especially after a few hours of good ol' manual labor, but still in this heat it wasn't as much fun. Past the wooden gates and through the oak doors until at last he was at the threshold of the Inn and it's wonderful bar. He entered and called over to the barkeep at once. "Aye, o'er here, how 'bout a pint fella!" He gruffed and sat down at a dark table in the corner. He could see all kinds here. Small little hobbits busy with their own things. One thing he admired about them was they were good farmers. He, being a farmer himself, knew it well. Busy men talking and drinking merrily, always a fun sight and more fun to join. Those odd Rangers talking in whispers to each other, odd folk, but they had the look of men who were used to hard work, so Uther gave them some respect. And the occasional Dwarf or (rarely) Elf who would pass by. With a grunt he thanked the Barkeep as his ale was brought over, quickly downing nearly half the glass. He was a big man and even bigger to the Hobbits and Dwarves. But he had great respect for Dwarves, now there were fellows who knew about hard work and labor! Why, when he was only a lad and had out-worked some of the older men of the village, they claimed he was related to Dwarves. Of course, now that he was 7'1" that was a ridiculous idea, as it had always been. But still, he respected the little bearded men. These were the thoughts on the big mans brain as he drink the sweet tasting ale. He loved Bree with a passion. He loved the grass, as green as one could hope for, and the waters, crisp and blue and clean. It was a nice little town. The Inn was his home away from the farm. The dark common-room lit by the flickering ruby flames of the fire, the large pint at his large hands. The many faces, people. Oh it was a good place. And not a bad place for little Arthur II to live in, either. No, his nephew, grandson of his brother, was in good hands here. Strong hands. The hands of Uther, the "Ox Man" _____________________________________________ [ September 25, 2003: Message edited by: Golden ] [ September 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]