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Eorl of Rohan · 01-26-2004, 10:34 PM

Placed for Guard

1) no, I have not played in any barrow-down RPG

2)I am involved in no RPG

3)I've posted in the Green Dragon
_____________________________________________

NAME: Ferethor Amandil

AGE: 27.

GENDER: Male

RACE: Mankind

WEAPONS

He usually wields a slender bow, not the sturdy crossbows that men usually use, but made in an elven-fashion. And he also carries a quiver of red-shafted arrows. In close combat he wields a slender blade, scarcly longer then a knife.

APPEARANCE

He has a pale complexion that strangly contrasts with his dark-brown eyes. Even when his eyes twinkle with merriment, or gleam in hatred, sadness of some unknown wrong is never entirely subdued.

Of course, when on duty, he wears the standard Gondorian armour of silver and sable.

But when he is not on duty, his clothing is practical yet common, except for a sturdy boot with silver tassels. He wears a dark-green cloak over his clothing, which aids in disguise in forest glades.

PERSONALITY, STRENGTH, WEAKNESSES:

He is self-possessed, and his anger is hard to kindle - but once aroused it will not be quenched easily. He can be ruthless in need, but is moved quickly to pity as well.

However, people find it hard to discern his feeling, for his features betray not what he feels. He almost always saw an outward appearance of being cheerful, and people like him but never get close to him. He gives his friendship frankly and with ease, but hold to the friendship loyally.

He is skilled in woodcraft and in archery. However, he does not wield sword nor any blade but his knife, and that only reluctantly.

He is practical, and do not dwell in vague dreams. For him, life is here and now - and he tries to enjoy it as best as he can.

He is more used than he would admit to the easy life of the guards, and he takes harsh and long journeying hard. However, he would never lag behind, for he is proud.

He is used to hard and harsh weather, for he grew up far from Minas Tirith. But he has not much traveling experience.

HISTORY

He was born by the eve of Greenwood the Great, and early learned the way of woodcraft and hunting.

His father Menelen was a healer, one of the most famous in that district. Few years after he was born, his mother Emelyn fell sick to a sudden desease that swept over the forest with disastrous results. His father was not at home at the time, tending other patients. It was too late by far to save her when Menelen came back.

After seven days of silence that seemed so appalling to the eleven-year old Ferethor, Menelen rose and said, "This cannot be borne!" He took a vow that he shall never heal again, as long as he live, for all his work turned to disater. Next day, he enlisted for the hunt of Wargs where he died.

Ferethor lived rough, but decently enough and was loved. He tried his best to be likeable to all, and learned to not to show his feelings and always keep the appearnce of cheerfulness.

When he was seventeen, he asked to be accepted into the Guard, so he may die like his father. He was rejected on the basis that he was too young and inexperienced. However, he was not ready to desert the cherished dream he held for so long - he took a horse and his father's guard armour followed the next regiment of guards secretly.

For his valour and courage in the battlefield that day, he was given rank by the captain, believing him that he was transferred from another regiment. Confusion issued when later on, upon reaching Minas Tirith, that it was found out that he was a just a young boy.

He has been working for the guard ever since. He was good, but not wonderful in battle - however, he improvised quickly and was quick in response, therefore dependable to carry out a mission with success.
_____________________________________________

Eorl of Rohan's post

Ferethor reined in his horse by the eve of Greenwood the Great, which was once called Mirkwood. The sun cast it's last rays upon the forest ans sank beyond the Misty Mountains.

He was singing what snatches he could remember of a song of lore he once heard long ago, improvising the tune as he went.

"Grey as tears, gleaming silver
Red then it rolled, roaring water..."

When he dismounted and camped for the night, he had time enough to brood over what he was going to do.

"The legacy..." He rolled the thought around in his mind. Then he smiled. "Even if it was true, why wouldn't have the villain or whatever he is used it all?"

He was suddenly furious at the king, though he knew it was not loyal. "This, a special mission from the king? For Illuvatar's gaze! What use could there possibly be in following after a petty villain and the legacy he is supposed to have?"

"What of the Shire, from which I was sent?" He talked the the gathering night. His horse nuzzled up to his face, and was given a piece of carrot. "Even though the time of Darkness is past, orcs, Wargs and other evil creature prowl around the borders of Shire" Ferethor thought with anger. "If soldiers of Gonder does not patrol and defend shire, there would be no peace for these holbytlans. Whither shall they flee from the oncoming dread if we did not protect them? But now we are withdrawn, few as we are, to chase after daydreams!"

Nevertheless, he was wondering how to join the company under disguised name when he fell asleep.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:51 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

01-26-2004, 10:34 PM	#30
Eorl of Rohan Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Location: Seoul, South Korea Posts: 602	Placed for Guard 1) no, I have not played in any barrow-down RPG 2)I am involved in no RPG 3)I've posted in the Green Dragon _____________________________________________ NAME: Ferethor Amandil AGE: 27. GENDER: Male RACE: Mankind WEAPONS He usually wields a slender bow, not the sturdy crossbows that men usually use, but made in an elven-fashion. And he also carries a quiver of red-shafted arrows. In close combat he wields a slender blade, scarcly longer then a knife. APPEARANCE He has a pale complexion that strangly contrasts with his dark-brown eyes. Even when his eyes twinkle with merriment, or gleam in hatred, sadness of some unknown wrong is never entirely subdued. Of course, when on duty, he wears the standard Gondorian armour of silver and sable. But when he is not on duty, his clothing is practical yet common, except for a sturdy boot with silver tassels. He wears a dark-green cloak over his clothing, which aids in disguise in forest glades. PERSONALITY, STRENGTH, WEAKNESSES: He is self-possessed, and his anger is hard to kindle - but once aroused it will not be quenched easily. He can be ruthless in need, but is moved quickly to pity as well. However, people find it hard to discern his feeling, for his features betray not what he feels. He almost always saw an outward appearance of being cheerful, and people like him but never get close to him. He gives his friendship frankly and with ease, but hold to the friendship loyally. He is skilled in woodcraft and in archery. However, he does not wield sword nor any blade but his knife, and that only reluctantly. He is practical, and do not dwell in vague dreams. For him, life is here and now - and he tries to enjoy it as best as he can. He is more used than he would admit to the easy life of the guards, and he takes harsh and long journeying hard. However, he would never lag behind, for he is proud. He is used to hard and harsh weather, for he grew up far from Minas Tirith. But he has not much traveling experience. HISTORY He was born by the eve of Greenwood the Great, and early learned the way of woodcraft and hunting. His father Menelen was a healer, one of the most famous in that district. Few years after he was born, his mother Emelyn fell sick to a sudden desease that swept over the forest with disastrous results. His father was not at home at the time, tending other patients. It was too late by far to save her when Menelen came back. After seven days of silence that seemed so appalling to the eleven-year old Ferethor, Menelen rose and said, "This cannot be borne!" He took a vow that he shall never heal again, as long as he live, for all his work turned to disater. Next day, he enlisted for the hunt of Wargs where he died. Ferethor lived rough, but decently enough and was loved. He tried his best to be likeable to all, and learned to not to show his feelings and always keep the appearnce of cheerfulness. When he was seventeen, he asked to be accepted into the Guard, so he may die like his father. He was rejected on the basis that he was too young and inexperienced. However, he was not ready to desert the cherished dream he held for so long - he took a horse and his father's guard armour followed the next regiment of guards secretly. For his valour and courage in the battlefield that day, he was given rank by the captain, believing him that he was transferred from another regiment. Confusion issued when later on, upon reaching Minas Tirith, that it was found out that he was a just a young boy. He has been working for the guard ever since. He was good, but not wonderful in battle - however, he improvised quickly and was quick in response, therefore dependable to carry out a mission with success. _____________________________________________ Eorl of Rohan's post Ferethor reined in his horse by the eve of Greenwood the Great, which was once called Mirkwood. The sun cast it's last rays upon the forest ans sank beyond the Misty Mountains. He was singing what snatches he could remember of a song of lore he once heard long ago, improvising the tune as he went. "Grey as tears, gleaming silver Red then it rolled, roaring water..." When he dismounted and camped for the night, he had time enough to brood over what he was going to do. "The legacy..." He rolled the thought around in his mind. Then he smiled. "Even if it was true, why wouldn't have the villain or whatever he is used it all?" He was suddenly furious at the king, though he knew it was not loyal. "This, a special mission from the king? For Illuvatar's gaze! What use could there possibly be in following after a petty villain and the legacy he is supposed to have?" "What of the Shire, from which I was sent?" He talked the the gathering night. His horse nuzzled up to his face, and was given a piece of carrot. "Even though the time of Darkness is past, orcs, Wargs and other evil creature prowl around the borders of Shire" Ferethor thought with anger. "If soldiers of Gonder does not patrol and defend shire, there would be no peace for these holbytlans. Whither shall they flee from the oncoming dread if we did not protect them? But now we are withdrawn, few as we are, to chase after daydreams!" Nevertheless, he was wondering how to join the company under disguised name when he fell asleep. <font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:51 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ There is no signature here.