Homeward Bound Discussion Thread

[Eorl of Rohan]

+beams happily+ Thanks, Dimturiel!

[Thinlómien]

Okay, I'm in. I'd like to take the Gondorian female civilian. Any special requirements about her? Currently planning her to be in her forties and hopefully not too typical silly slave woman...

[Eorl of Rohan]

Okay, I'm in. I'd like to take the Gondorian female civilian. Any special requirements about her?

None whatsoever. Welcome aboard!

[Eorl of Rohan]

And with you joining us, Lommy, I think I can pick up another character (most likely Gondorian Soldier #2) and Get this RP going at last.
If anyone wants to pick up another character as well, I would be very grateful. Or if anyone could convince anyone else to join in.
But it's been almost a month, and I seriously doubt new players would be joining our ranks anytime soon.
Especially seeing as all the roleplayers who DID apply did so within THREE DAYS of the creation of this roleplay thread.

I would appreciate it if everyone would submit their Character Profiles and First Posts now.

I think I'll post the character profile and the first post for the Gondorian Soldier #2 sometime within today or tomorrow.
Current Roleplayers: Dimturiel, Folwen, Thinlomien, Eorl, Durelin // Hopefully we can start roleplaying now- that is, with your approval, Pio.

[Thinlómien]

Mmh think there's any logical or canonical way of explaining if my character had been a slave for about two decades?

...I guess so since Dury's character seems to have been a slave for about 12 years too.

*off to plot*

[Thinlómien]

NAME: Susca (Suscana, daughter of Orolain)

AGE: 43

RACE: Gondorian

GENDER: female

WEAPONS: nothing

APPEARANCE: At 5'8'', Susca stands only a little shorter than the average easterling man. Two decades of slavery in the sun and dust of the east have turned her tanned complexion swarthy and robbed the shine of her jet black hair as well as all the soft feminine flesh around her slender body. Apart from her height, only the occasional spark in her grey eyes recalls the proud noblewoman she once was.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Susca has always had a temper, although years of slavery have forced her to restrain herself. She hardly bothers to conceal her selfishness, cowardice or lack of empathy. On the other hand she is independent, intuitive and intelligent, and not as cold as she might first seem. She speaks little if she has nothing to say.

Susca was an artist and has the skills and eyes of a painter. Little goes unnoticed by her and she is a pure aesthetic. She used to be very beautiful and can still use her appearance to her advantage if needs be. The years as a slave in the household of a rich Easterling family has taught her to work efficiently and quietly, whatever the work in question. Also, animals - especially horses - tend to like her and she's good at co-operating with them.

Apart from the obvious faults in her personality, Susca has few other weaknesses. She has whatsoever no talent in music and despite spending 19 years with the Easterlings, her understanding of their language is still limited.

HISTORY: Year 2983 a daughter was born to the South Gondorian nobleman Orolain and his wife Flavia. They had long expected a child and the girl named Suscana was an answer to their prayers. They treasured their only child and let her have what she wanted. They gave her pretty clothes and precious jewels, and most importantly, let her do what she wanted.

As a talented painter, Suscana decided to pursue a career as an artist. It wasn't easy to be a female artist in Gondor, especially for a young unmarried woman. Assisted by her good looks and advantageous contacts Suscana managed to achieve moderate fame as a portrait and landscape artist, and many suitors came to her door, some drawn by curiousity, some by Suscana's beauty and most of them by her parents' wealth, for she was the only child and heir. To her parents' disappointment, Suscana refused all proposals. She had little interest in marriage or having children, all she wanted was to do her art and maybe have some fun every now and then.

In the summer of 3007 when Suscana was 24 years old, she was working on a commission in a manorhouse in North-Eastern Anórien. An exceptionally bold raid took a group of Easterlings to the borderlands of Rohan and Gondor, many locals were killed and many were taken captive, Suscana among them. She was taken to work as one of the divers who fetched pearls in the dangerous waters of the Sea of Rhûn until a wealthy Easterling man set his eyes on her and took her as a slave to his house.

After that Suscana, nowadays only known as Susca, has toiled in half a dozen Easterling households as a maidservant. She has made some friends, but always lost them when changing owners. She once had a baby by one of her Easterling masters, but the girl was stillborn and after that Susca hasn't become pregnant. She's had a few lovers, but none of them has lasted any more than her friendships. One could say Susca has been lonely, but what she dreams of is her palette and a paintbrush in her hand, not human contact.

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Thinlómien's post:

Suscana watched the men's angry back-and-forth with indifference. The events of the previous week bounced wildly in her head: the mysterious disappearance of Lady Rhedea's necklace, the accusing fingers of the other maids pointing at her (she should've been more careful when stalking at night to meet Kilden and she should've known better than to accuse the Lord's favourite maid of the theft, but it was all said and done now, she couldn't change it anymore), her being thrown to the dungeons to be released to the hunt and the wild plotting led by Captain Regnár.

She had thought him crazy back then, even seen a madman's glint in his dark eyes when explaining his plans to the slaves gathered around him. The idea of making it to the infamous Mir Wainrider's office in the barracks seemed like pure madness - if they managed to escape, that was definitely not the place to go to hide from Easterlings! Susca had decided not to follow any reckless plan like that but during the hunt - she was trying to push all the images of blood and faces full of anguish from her mind, no time to dwell on it right now - she had somehow found herself between the choice of following Regnár to an alley which led to the barracks or running into the hunters who were advancing from both sides.

And now they were all here. The men were quarrelling, which was nothing surprising. There was intense throbbing of pain in Susca's left arm and she hoped she hadn't broken any bones. She could not bring herself to listen to the fight between Regnàr and Mir Wainrider, even though it would determine the fate of all the people in the room. She was feeling numb, struck by both the realisation that she had survived the notorious hunt and the amount of pain and death she had seen that day.

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Eorl, let me know if anything needs changing. Also, do you need first posts soon? If yes, what does that mean in practice?

Folwren, I have the feeling you won't like my character...


PS. I won't be taking another character even though I'm tempted by the Rohanian man... I hardly have enough time to write for one character so two would be too much.

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Linked ~*~ Pio

[piosenniel]

Here is what you have so far:

Player/Character List

1.) Eorl of Rohan - Mir Wainrider (short for Artamir) - (Easterling)

2.) Durelin - Regnár - (Gondorian Former Soldier)
3.) Thinlómien - Susca (Suscana) - (Gondorian Civilian Female) NEED FIRST POST
4.) Dimturiel - Penram (Gondorian/Easterling Teenage Boy - BROTHER to little girl) NEED FIRST POST
5.) Folwren - ?NAME? - (Gondorian/Easterling Little Girl - SISTER to teenage boy) NEED BIO AND FIRST POST

6.) Gondorian Former Soldier #2 – 1 – Male NEEDED
7.) Rohirrim Former Soldier or Civilian – 1 – Male or Female NEEDED
8.) Rohirrim Former Soldier or Civilian – 1 – Male or Female NEEDED

~*~

At the very least, Folwren needs to do her Character Bio before the RPG can begin.

Once that character bio is done, then I can open the game for play and players can begin posting there, if that is alright with you, Eorl, instead of posting their First Posts to the Discussion Thread.

Eorl, your First Post for the game is already in place on the RPG thread.

[Folwren]

K, here it is. I am so sorry it's taken me this long.

NAME: Merra

AGE: 11

RACE: Man – half Gondorian, half Easterling

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: None.

APPEARANCE: Merra is just about average height, and is a little shorter than her brother. She is skinny, but healthy. She has long black hair, and dark eyes. Her skin is dark, taking after her Easterling father, but her features are clear-cut and delicate, as her Gondorian mother’s would have been.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Because her brother, Penram, grew up mistrusting everyone and attempting to protect Merra at all times and never letting her out of his sight, Merra grew up believing that everyone was against her and she was the most important person in her little world. She quickly found that if she did anything wrong, Penram would take the fall for her. She therefore has a false sense of superiority, and an idea that she deserves whatever comes her way, even if she has to take it. She became a manipulative thief and liar, who played on her brother’s feelings (unbeknownst to her and him). She is a coward and will hide behind her brother at the slightest threat. She loves Penram deeply, however, but whether that is simply because he serves her so loyally, or because she truly, cares for him, is unknown. She is relatively sweet, however, and can be engaging and entertaining. Given a chance, she is soft hearted and kind to anything smaller and weaker than she.

HISTORY: She was born a slave, to a Gondorian slave woman. She does not know who her father is, though she is certain it was an Easterling. She did not know her mother, either, for she died shortly after Merra was born (presumably from complications from the birth). For the first six years of her life, she and her brother lived with another slave family, owned by some Easterling family. They were not mistreated physically beyond a few instances of some random oaths and maybe a few blows, but they were not always fed well enough, and so both got off to a slow start in growing. However, when Merra was six and Penram nine, an Easterling man came and bought the two of them and raised them in his household. They were treated almost like the Easterling’s own children in that he required very little from them, never trained them to do anything productive to earn their keep and never disciplined them in the least, unless it were to threaten them with no dinner for the evening, but that threat, he hardly ever kept.

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Folwren's post - Merra:

The night of the hunt was Merra’s least favorite night out of the entire year. Usually, they stayed home, and the noises of the hunt could not be heard quite so loud, nor so often. Also, at home there were things to do to occupy their attention. Penram stood at the window, looking out. Merra stood beside him, but her back was to the sights of the streets and her arms were crossed over her belly.

Merra had been just on the verge of asking Penram why Mir had brought them here to the barracks when a sound outside the door caught the children’s attention. Merra pushed herself upright and turned towards the noise just before the door was burst open from the outside and a man flung himself inside, directly atop of Mir. Three figures followed him, but Merra’s eyes were on Mir and the stranger, grappling now on the ground. When the stranger wrested the knife by force from Mir’s hand and held it against his throat, Merra sprang forward with an involuntary cry.

Penram had her arm before she had crossed half the floor, and he pulled her forcibly into the far corner. She turned her face towards him, and his body half shielded her from the sight, but she could not keep her eyes from being drawn towards the assailant and their master. Penram’s arms were about her, protecting her physically, as he always did, but he couldn’t stop the trembling.

Mir stopped struggling, once the knife was against his throat, and he and the escaped slave were talking rather familiarly together, Merra thought, but she could not fully understand what they were talking about. None of what the slave said made sense, and Mir’s responses seemed almost as wild. But one thing was clear: Mir was being forced to do something he did not want to do, and the man forcing him was enjoying his job of convincing Mir very much. Whatever was happening was not good. Mir might end up dead, and if he died, no one would be there to protect Penram, and if Penram died…

The stranger finally drew back his knife and his death grip on Mir, and his glance fell on Merra and her brother.

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Linked ~*~ Pio

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Okay!!! I am SO sorry it took me forever to get this up. I have finally read everyone's bios and figured out the characters here and have written mine, following as accurately as I may to Dimturiel's and Eorl's posts and bios, both of which reflect on mine.

Although I am posting this up, it is not complete. I still have questions that need answering before it is completed.

Eorl: In your first post, you noted that the children are half Easterling, but have enough Gondorian blood in them to make them look completely Gondorian. I fear I have somewhat twisted that. I noted that in Penram's bio, he looks pretty much Gondorian. I, however, made Merra look very dark, but have the features of a Gondorian. Will that be okay? You may need to edit your first post if you allow me to keep my girl's appearance the way it is. Please let me know.

Everyone: I have written two possibilities to Merra's personality. The first Option was the one I thought up first. I don't know why I thought up the second personality, but I did. I am, however, unwilling to scrap the first thought without getting your all's opinion. Should my character be a fairly 'good girl' and be somewhat normal (option 1), or should she be a bit messed up (option 2)? Option two will definitely add more conflict later in the story. I would love to hear everyone's opinion.

And, as I said, having finally read all the character bio's, I ran across this for the first time today:

Originally Posted by Thinlómien

Folwren, I have the feeling you won't like my character...

lol! Why ever not? Because she's a selfish, pompous snob or because she's had multiple lovers? Just kidding. I think it'll be fun.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Originally Posted by Thinlómien

Mmh think there's any logical or canonical way of explaining if my character had been a slave for about two decades? ...I guess so since Dury's character seems to have been a slave for about 12 years too. *off to plot*

No, Durelin's character spent five years in slavery, seeing as (1) he was captured as a result of recklessly pursuing the Easterlings who fled after the defeat of Sauron (2) the roleplay is set five years after the War. But the age of your character Suscana can be perfectly canonical. We can see in The Hobbit that even the main roads were fraught with peril and but poorly guarded in the sunset era of the Third Age. The Easterling raids to the borders of Rohan and Gondor had been in existence long before the War itself broke out. Even my character history suggests it.

By the way, Thinlomien, wonderful character bio! Since you posted the bio at 7:20 AM, I printed it out and took it with me to class because I had to leave for class in a few minutes and didn't want to spend all morning wondering what you've written. And then I read it secretly (or so I thought) in class, until my English Lit. professor actually rapped my desk and asked what I was squealing in excitement over. It was kinda embarrassing, but... meh. Anyway, I really felt as if Susca was a real person and not a character by the time I finished it!

PS. Piosenniel, sure! And I'll have the character bio for Ariel Silverwood, Gondorian Former Soldier #2, up in roughly around an hour. I hope.

[Thinlómien]

Thanks Eorl. My objective was to create a female character who is not like all the other female characters I'm writing currently (sort of but not totally succeeded ) and I was slightly inspired by a book called Artemisia (sort of imaginary biography of the painter Artemisia Gentileschi who lived in early 17th century).

I'm developing a first post in my head, it will hopefully explain why Susca was judged a useless slave and put to the hunt...

[Eorl of Rohan]

NAME: Ariel Silverwood
AGE: 22
RACE: Man
GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: He was trained as a scout and is a dead shot with a shortbow, but currently he is weaponless.
He might find something he could use if he rummages in Mir’s weapon rack.

APPEARANCE: Black in hair, yet very fair to the point of bloodlessness in skin color, Ariel has narrow shoulders and thin limbs that seem barely more than skin and bones. Taking into account his pale gray eyes that are almost transparent in their limpidness, he seems more a wraith or a barrow-wight than a living man of flesh and blood. He mostly maintains a wary glancing look about his countenance that on rare occasions shifts to a wistful smile or a murderous snarl.

PERSONALITY: Ariel is the kind of man that would have made a loyal son, a faithful husband, and a dutiful soldier; but he never had the chance to mature into the latter two, for he was captured as a raw recruit at the age of seventeen. His mental development was stunted with fierce hatred and somber fear, and his spirit broken. For many years he had dared not even hope for anything more than sweet sleep and black hunk of bread doled out at lunchtime. This sudden turn of fortune – and the hope of seeing the sweet river Anduin once more – has shook him out of his hopeless apathy and spurred him into nervous action, but he remains almost childish in his fear and hesitation of the unknown. He is uncomfortable with a melee weapon in his hand; his long slender fingers are used to caressing only bowstrings and lute strings. In the short space of time that he has been free, which spans about one hour and half as of now, he has decidedly attached himself to Captain Regnar like a lost pup in search of its mother. Regnar is the only person he puts faith in. However, his affable nature would make him shyly kind to almost everyone else in the company; perhaps even to Mir.

HISTORY: He was the third son of a middling affluent and titled Gondorian family. The prospects were bleak for him; the land deeds and the title would probably end up with the eldest son, the financial gains with the second, but he himself could expect nothing but a decent education and a modest inheritance. So, in the rashness of youth, he applied for a position as a Gondorian scout and was accepted into the ranks when he was sixteen. He had always been fleet of foot and had a keen eye for archery, so that he was taken on various dangerous missions that would probably not have been assigned to someone so young and inexperienced otherwise. But he as a scout had never been to the forefront of the war; he had but a faint idea of the carnage and the rivers running red with blood, thought that war was a game of hiding in shadows and creeping past sleeping orcs, or of tracking and hunting down fleeing prey too weak to fight back. The ambush that Mir set up was the first disillusionment that Ariel had with war, though it was not to be the last.

Ariel was fortunate in that his first master happened to be an avid hunter and took good care that his property was not damaged or mistreated in any way as soon as he found out about his talent with the bow. Seeing as all skills grow rusty if not practiced for many years, it was fortunate that he had had more than enough chances to practice his bowmanship. This went on for five years, until Ariel’s master was killed in a hunting accident and his devout and grieving widow ‘donated’ him to the Harvest Festival Preparation Committee in order to beseech the grace of the Gods and to plead a good afterlife for her late husband. It was in the cells of the HFPC that he re-encountered his captain, Regnar, grim and weatherbeaten but unbowed, and introduced to the still-beautiful Suscana as well as the quiet young Rohirrim. (I am still hoping someone would take another character. Or that a new player would appear. Otherwise, this quiet guy can just be a nameless NPC who could just silently follow our party around, mentioned by and by in passing and written by anyone who wants to write him, I guess. ) There were two scores and half of prisoners in the cells, but these four were the only ones that managed to escape the initial hunters and meet up together beneath the shadows of the Guard Barracks just as Regnar had suggested. He had a plan, Former Captain Regnar had said quietly, and an old acquaintance to pay a visit to.


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Eorl of Rohan's post - Ariel Silverwood:

Leaning on the windowsill, Ariel swallowed nervously as another hunter swept past the curtained window of Mir's Office. In the streets, the hunt was still on. The cruel sun beat down bright on the bristling spearheads and made them sparkle as though they were made of beaten silver. The crimson-feathered ritual arrows screamed menacingly as they arced across the ashen heavens. Hounds snarled afar as the harsh whistle of the torrential wind sliced through the thin air. The streets resounded with the wailings and death-curses of the sacrificial victims; but occasional forlorn cry, perhaps a whimper, was all that marked the passing of another one hunted. Beers bubbled in their tankards as Easterlings toasted the bountiful harvest in the warmth and safety of their home, while outside blood foamed crimson in the alleyways and the gutters.

Ariel remembered more than two score faces he had seen in the cells of the Harvest Festival Preparation Committee: wide-eyed children, mothers desperately clutching suckling babes to their breasts, weeping old women, and snarling young men. They had been thrown helter-skelter into a makeshift pen like so many cattle to await the day of the Harvest Hunt. He had hoped – unreasonably, as he well knew – that all of them would survive the hunt to meet them here, in the Barracks, just as his captain had suggested. But life was cheap in the City of Rhun, why should theirs be any different? In the end, they four were the only ones that managed to make it here unscathed.

He himself, Ariel of the Silverwood, the stern and fey Captain Regnar with a fell ringing in his voice as he spoke of the righteous prevailing, the silent Rohirrim who wouldn’t even give his name of yet, and the sensuous Suscana with an unnerving light in her eyes. These were the four members of the unlikely fellowship that they had tumbled into by no other reason than that the maia who weaves the thread of life had not seen it fit to cut theirs. What an unlikely bunch they were to survive. No weapons, enemies everywhere, the gates barred and shut. Not to mention that the only bulwark that could possibly stand between themselves and certain death was currently telling Regnar to meet him on the road to hell, his eyes dark with cynical fury and his voice as bitter as the cud.

Mir Wainrider, the Easterling lieutenant-general. No. Not anymore. Mir had been promoted to the Captain of the RhunGuards for his valour in the the Dark Lord’s War, Ariel had heard, a crowning achievement which brought an end to his colorful career as a shadowstep tracker-scout for a highly efficient slaver racket.

‘In the course of his career Mir must have reserved a place for himself in the darkest dwelling places of Mandos’, Ariel thought, ‘Yet he does not fear to invoke the halls of Mandos for himself as well as us. Is he fearless of Eru’s judgment, being a heathen, unaware of the all-devouring darkness that awaits him at his life’s end? Or does he know and not care?’

Death was so close, and everywhere. Ariel shivered, doubting whether this escape plan could be pulled off, yet ashamed that he showed his fear openly at such a critical juncture. He had lived as a pale wraith of his former self the past five years, fearing each raised hand lest it strike a blow, and now it seemed that cowardice had bred itself into his very bones. Would they die like dogs in the streets of this hostile foreign city, and their parched bones gleam white under the harsh sun for stray wolves to gnaw on? He felt bitingly the terror of death’s shadow, and welcomed the cold and clammy embrace of his mortality. Mir, too, must be merely putting up a brave face because his death was inevitable no matter what he did.

"You'll cooperate," Regnar answered quietly, but it was more of a command than a question.

Ariel shuddered at the chill in Regnar’s tone. He had heard this tone once or twice before, long ago, when he was still a youthful and overbrash Pel-Tirith recruit who served under his command. It was cold and hard, even cruel. It was obvious that Regnar was prepared to wrench whatever use he could out of Artamir even if the Easterling captain refused to lend his aid. How long did that tense silence linger? A second, or a hundred? Silverwood realized that Regnar had come out on top when Mir violently wrenched away his stare from Regnar’s grim countenance and smiled in bitter acquiescence. “Throw on the guard livery in the closet, then, I'll take you to my home." Mir said, and his voice was weary, wooden and dead. It was only then that Ariel realized how listless Mir looked. It startled Ariel, that one who held such an esteemed office and lacked for nothing, a merciless slaver who had ruined a thousand lives without losing sleep over it at night, should be haunted by sorrow like other mortal men.

He asked impulsively: "What could you have lost all these years, Easterling, that were as dear to you as the green and rolling fields of Gondor and the laughter of our family and friends that you have taken from us? What have you lost, that casts such pallor over you and dampens the angry flash in your eyes? You were not so inclined to yield back then, and neither were Captain Regnar so sa-”

Ariel choked off the last word – he had meant to say, ‘sadistic’ – and turned away to open the closet instead, ashamed of himself. Circumstances change. And people adapt to it. Perhaps it was only he who never matured. After all, he wasn’t mistreated in any way as long as he did his job, which was little different from what he would do for amusement when he was still a scout of Gondor, and there were plenty of wild game in the woods of Rhun. His master had a cruel streak that seemed common in almost all Easterlings, but it was almost never directed toward Ariel. Not as long as he retained the pleasing illusion that it was he himself that had taught Ariel how to hunt and made him such a skilled hunter. In truth, Ariel had never borne the brunt of cruelty in a way that other thralls have, although he had learned to fear it from watching how his master treated the other thralls, and it horrified him to se how it’s experience left such a visible mark on the temperament of his captain. But perhaps his captain was the wise one, and he himself a childish fool-

In the dusky recess of the armoire, the dark crimson and gold livery of the RhunGuards glittered in the sinking sun's rays which filtered in through the window. He took out the respective sizes and lightly threw them to Suscana, the Rohirrim, and last to Captain Regnar. As for himself he hesitated, seeing as there was no size that fit someone so lanky and so slightly built at the same time, and at last settled with a uniform two sizes too large and a crimson cloak to cover the unwieldiness of his livery. The cloak was embroidered intricately with the iron crown of Melkor, He who Arises in Might, of whose identity he had no idea except that he had heard him referred to by and by as the chief of the evil gods that these heathens served.

“I would advise you not to wear that,” Ariel heard Mir say in a half-amused voice, now sitting up with a hand closed over his still-bleeding neck. “Even the most thickheaded of the guards would notice something amiss if you flaunted the captain’s cloak out in the open.”



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Linked ~*~ Pio

I took the italics off your Character Bio and changed it back to plain font - I find it easier to read that way.