[Firefoot]

I would like to play a

Mirkwood scout

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – No

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? None

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn? – Yes

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For your character please include:

NAME: Thorvel

AGE: 3,142

RACE: Sindarin Elf of Mirkwood

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Thorvel carries a large bow and a quiver of arrows on his back, which is his weapon of choice. He made it himself, and although the design is simple, it serves his purpose well. It has the designs of swirling vines and leaves. He has been using the bow for more than 3,000 years and by now has a deadly shot. He takes good care of it, and it has served him well for a long time. Each arrow has green feathers on the end of the shaft. He also carries a hunting knife, which from blade to handle is one and a half feet long. The handle is wooden and its only device is that of a landing eagle. The sharp blade gleams in the sunlight and is slightly curved at the end. Although he is not as skilled with the knife, he also finds this to be a useful weapon.

APPEARANCE: Thorvel has dark hair that extends about half way down his back. His gray eyes are piercing and expressive. He stands about 6'4" tall. He has an average build and is very strong. He wears the regular forest-colored tunic and breeches of a Mirkwood scout and comfortable leather boots.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Thorvel has always been interested in the goings-on of Middle-earth, and likes to keep himself as well-informed as possible. He is intelligent and clever with a good sense of humor. He has very strong opinions about most people and things, and isn’t afraid to let those opinions be known. He often speaks before he thinks and says the wrong thing, even making jokes out of serious situations. He enjoys being with other people, but he works much better by himself. His independence and confidence make him daring and always ready to take risks, even though it is not always the wisest thing to do. He is also very stubborn, and once he has decided something it is difficult to change his mind. However, he trusts his captain to make good decisions and he follows orders well - though he isn’t afraid to take an opportunity if he isn’t specifically told otherwise. He has an intense hatred of orcs (see history) and it is for primarily for this reason that he became a scout.

But for all this, Thorvel is very loyal, though his loyalties are not lightly given, and trustworthy. When he commits to something, he sticks to it, and he is known to keep his word. Once he decides to trust a person, he takes most everything they say seriously and will always stick by them.

HISTORY: Thorvel has lived in Mirkwood all his life. When he was still young, 117 years old, his father was slain in the Battle of Dagorlad. Only a couple years later, his mother died of grief from losing her husband, and it is for the loss of his parents that he hates Orcs so much. He vowed to avenge their deaths and committed himself to learning the art of archery and other skills he would need. He became deft at being unseen and unheard by others nearby.

When Thorvel was almost 1,000 years old he felt he had had enough training and was ready to become a scout. He tried it for a couple hundred years, but he was not very successful at it, as he was often at odds with his captains because of his independent streak. He never had any captains he felt that he could trust, and he decided give it a rest.

However, Thorvel never forgot his vow and when the Nazgûl emerged from Mordor and evil began to dwell in Dol Guldur again, his hatred of Orcs burned all the hotter and he decided to give being a scout another go. At first, he again had trouble with those in authority over him, but then he got placed under the command of Calenvása, who he got along with quite well. As Calenvása earned his trust, he began to excel at his position of scout.

Now, as Sauron was again rising and the evil forces mustering, he feels it will finally be time to really fight the Orcs that he so hated.

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Firefoot's post

The Orc army was illumined in the late-morning sun - but not him. He was crouched in the dense underbrush of the forest, hidden in the shadows and invisible to all save the other Mirkwood scouts nearby. Careful not to make a sound, he crept forward and slightly to the right to get a better view of the Orcs he was watching. Cold hatred gleamed in his gray eyes. He reached up and fingered the feathered end of an arrow in his quiver. It was of no use at the moment, but later... then the Orcs would die, pierced with arrows.

Thorvel refocused himself on what he was supposed to be doing: observing the Orcs. The army stretched away in both directions, and from his vantage point he could not see either end. He had never seen so many in one place before. Smaller bands of Orcs, those could be dealt with relatively easily. But this? They had no facts as to what the army was planning on. Thorvel didn’t, anyway. So what are we going to do about it? he wondered. Fight them off, of course. Defeat them. All of his senses revolted at the sounds of thousands of Orcs all arguing in their uncouth languages and the clank of metal on metal.

As he turned his head away to the right, the large group of men garbed in golden armor caught his eye. Southrons! They were only slightly better than the Orcs, in Thorvel’s opinion. If at all. They were better fighters, too, not like the Orcs who delighted in and knew little more than killing. Suddenly the significance of this hit him. They must have some kind of great cause to be gathered together in such a way, and he wondered at that. They obviously had no intention of failing in what ever it was.

He supposed then that their first goal would be figuring out what the army was going to attempt. Were they going to attack his home in Northern Mirkwood? Or would they go after nearby Lorien? Either way, he was determined to fight them to the death.

It wasn’t long before Thorvel perceived his Captain moving in the stillness of the forest. He looked back around to Calenvása on his left and saw the other scouts doing the same. Calenvása lifted his hand and motioned for the scouts to retreat deeper into the forest to their meeting place. He saw some of the other scouts moving slowly away into the forest, disappearing even from his keen Elvish sight. He turned and followed them stealthily away, curving out to his left in order to maintain his distance from the others.

Thorvel came upon the other Elves and stood against a tree. His muscles were tense and he was at attention, aware of everything that was going on. His face was hard and his chin was set firmly, and his eyes, though flecked with uneasiness, held a smoldering fire. He took note of the other Elves waiting around. All of them were on edge, ready for anything. The final stragglers wandered in, and last of all came Calenvása. Thorvel considered him a bit queer, but he trusted that Calenvása could come up with a solid plan against the Orcs. The silence was complete but for the sounds of the forest around them. He almost spoke, but thought better of it. He could express his opinions later, after the Captain had said his piece.