[Hirilaelin]

The bio! And, of course, the first post. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES - Holiday in the Sun

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES - Both, but I didn't stay long.

For your character please include:

NAME: Rheaite

AGE: 20

RACE: Corsair (evil)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Poison

APPEARANCE: Smooth tanned skin; almond shaped brown eyes; straight dark brown mid-back length hair(slightly wavey towards the bottom); 5'8"; well built. Rhe does not consider herself particularly beautiful, but is rather vain about her slim, long hands.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Rheaite, often called Rhe, is shy and quiet, a seemingly gentle soul. She's not a hothead, and prides herself on being very controlled with her emotions. She gets her kindly disposition from her father, and her looks and build from her mother. She sometimes seems curiously vacant in her manner. The pouch hanging from her belt holds all manner of poisons and various other powders. Her mother also insisted that she be educated, and so she learned to read and write very well. As well as bestowing education apon her daughter, Rhe's mother also taught her that Dol Amroth was taken from the corsairs unjustly, and that they were the true rulers of Gondor.

HISTORY: Rhe grew up in the main city of Dol Amroth, daughter of a corsair trader and an innkeeper. Her father was a kindly, though extremely shrewd man, who she loved dearly. When she was young, she spent most of her time sailing with him, away from her mother, a controlling woman who ran a successful inn. She loved her father very much, and was often puzzled why he had married her mother. When she was 13, her father died after an accident at sea, leaving her grief stricken, and her mother restricted her to the inn, where she was to stay for five more years, until she left for a position as a maid. The five years spent under her mother's thumb have made her extremely patient, as well as teaching Rhe the trick of retreating into her own head when she wanted to block something out.

Hirilaelin's post

The muffled clang of a metal vase falling to the carpeted floor startled Rheaite from her musings. She bent low, and retrieved the ornately etched vase, setting back where it belonged. So much to clean! Finduilas, bride-to-be of Denethor, would be arriving soon...

At that precise moment, trumpets sounded outside the gates, three bold, brassy notes filling the air. She must have come early! Making sure that all was in order, Rhe set the feather duster down on the low wooden table, and set off at a run down the hall. Everyone was supposed to be gathered in the enormous recieveing hall right now, and here she was, losing track of time with another of her far-fetched fantasys. Her mother's voice echoed in her memories, scolding her. "Rheaite! How many times do I have to tell you to get your head out of the clouds! Honestly girl! People will think you're not all there in the head if you stand about all slack jawed and dull eyed! Now get to work!"

Grimacing, Rhe tryed to banish the memory, but her the shrill tones still seemed to circle 'round inside her skull, screeching at her. Shaking her head furiously, she pelted pell-mell down the hall towards the grand hall. Stopping short of the doors, she brushed her dress out, patted her back into place, and slowly, cautiously, pushed open the doors. Sliding inside, she took her place in the rustling throng, closing the doors carefully behind her. Muttering apologys, she pushed towards the front to get a better view. At the far end of the cavernous room, towering doors stood open, A sudden hush rippled through the crowd, as the trumpeters called out the introductions.

After the minor ladies, servants, maids and a small group of soldiers passed through the doors, Finduilas finally appeared. Dressed in white gown with exquisite embroidery, she was stunning. Her dark, curling hair was piled on top of her well formed head in a bun, and a gauzy shawl was draped across her perfect shoulders. Rhe gaped. One to rival even the lady Dryea. She seemed to float down the hall, her perfect carriage enhancing her height and shapely figure.

But even as Rhe was admiring the lady, and thinking of what a perfect bride she would make Denethor, years of training took over. It did not matter how beautiful she was, how graceful, how perfect, she was an enemy. Even if she did come from Dol Amroth, she had agreed to marry Denethor, future steward, the enemy of the corsairs. Finduilas was nothing more than a traitor.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Hirilaelin ]

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