PLACED ON DISCUSSION THREAD ~*~ PIO
Most definitely.
Well, here we go...
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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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dancing spawn of ungoliant's character
NAME: Jagar
AGE: 26
RACE: Men (Haradrim)
GENDER: Male
WEAPONS: A piece of rope.
APPEARANCE: As a Southron Jagar's complexion is dark and he has brown or almost black eyes. His hair is short, curly, ragged and as dark as his eyes. Jagar is scrawny but tall. Some say that there would be Numenorean blood in his line but most think it's just a mere story Jagar's tribe's women cherish. The only feature that could be Numenorean origin is his height. He is worn and sweat has hardened his clothes. He sits a couple rows behind Ferethor on the right side of an aisle between the slaves.
PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Jagar has been aboard only a few months but the horrible conditions are taking their toll on him and sometimes he seems slightly mad. He talks to himself, hums and acts indifferently. He tries to deny the reality and escape into his imagination by seeking consolation from nature and songs. Jagar is confused because he begins to realize how much his tribe's culture contradicts with his own values.
Jagar is independent and he'd like to be alone but it's quite impossible considering he is in chains with hundreds of other slaves. Therefore he isn't very talkative but he's not hostile either.
HISTORY: Jagar was a member of a large and powerful tribe. He travelled to the sea as a boy and fell in love with the local lifestyle. When Jagar grew up he left to the coast to live on his own.
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dancing spawn of ungoliant's post
The hot air below deck smelled of sweat and blood. Jagar gasped and felt his heartbeat pounding in his throat. A man sitting next to him had collapsed onto the oar unable to force his tortured body to work any longer. Although it was gruesome, the sight made him chuckle. The limp body of the man swung to-and-fro with every pull making him look like a puppet and making rowing even harder. Was he dead? No, not yet. "Will be soon", Jagar mumbled to himself. "Isn't this something! Great ships with crimson sails, wasn't that what you wanted to see?" a little voice jeered inside his head.
When Jagar was a mere boy, he had travelled north to the coast with his father to inspect their tribe's lands. He had seen proud ships setting off from the harbours, the sun dazzling on foaming waves and screaming flocks of seabirds that circled above docks waiting the fishermen to clean their catch. As time passed, Jagar didn't forsake the sight of the glimmering sea and he longed for the freedom that the life on the coast breathed. Getting captured was not part of the plan.
During these months aboard Jagar had learnt that by keeping up with the pace and holding your tongue you could keep the whip away. The man sitting next to him had done neither. Rankling wounds run across his back making his remaining clothes sticky with matter. Jagar thought of his family. They had kept slaves, too, people from scattered and weak tribes who had chosen thralldom over death.
A whip of lash whizzed past Jagar's ear hitting the man next to him on the back and spattering blood drops around. The poor man moaned hoarsely as a new wound ripped the old scars open and coloured his ragged shirt carmine red. There was a time when this sight would have made Jagar feel sick but now he just stared forward squeezing the oar. The man was detached from his chains and dragged away. A few rows from Jagar another man was being beaten for dropping his oar.
Jagar moved quickly to the seat beside the oar hole and breathed the salty air. Finally he could see a glimpse of the swelling sea and boundless sky. How free the seagulls were! He wanted to wring their necks, shoot them down, so they couldn't fly around the cursed ship as though mocking him. No, he wanted to be one of them and ride with the breeze that blew from the vast ocean and hailed a new dawn. But here Jagar was chained in a ship and going to war against Gondor.
Harad was an enemy of Gondor as was Umbar. Jagar had learnt that long ago. If he was a free man, he would have gone to war gladly but not like this, not as a thrall trapped in an Umbarian ship. They made slaves row under pain of torment and death, but if he ever reached Gondor, what would the battle be but torment and death? Maybe he would die pathetically as an old man holding an oar after wasting his years rowing Numenorean lords from war to war. They would just throw him overboard for the sport of different sea creatures and keep conquering the world. This thought made him chuckle again. But why would he have been so eager to go to war against Gondor? He had no personal reason to hate that land. Jagar tried to reminisce an old song his mother had used to sing but the words escaped from his mind. Something about wind and horizon...
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And now, what do I need to change? Typos, weird expressions, mistakes?
Pio and
Eorl have helped me really much already with all this but tell me if there's something you don't like. I'll be away next fortnight so I can't make the changes myself, though.