The Merry Bowmen of Dale III - Toy Turmoil in Dale

The varied peoples of Middle-earth at times found unity in their pursuits, and all too often experienced deep rifts. Engage in lively conversations as we banter about the differences between the Alliances, and recruit for our People as well. Remember, keep it friendly.

The Merry Bowmen of Dale III - Toy Turmoil in Dale

Postby Canamarth » Thu Dec 06, 2007 8:15 am

This is the place for the new guildhouse. It's The Merry Bowmen III and I'm working on setting the place up for all you Dalers and friends out there. :) I hope the transition will not be as difficult as last time (see below). :roll:

This is a guild for Dalemen and -women and our merry friends who are proficient in the arts of archery or who want to learn these skills. Come here and help shape this place of, well, merrymaking and archery training.

We often do a little light-hearted in-character roleplay, but you're of course welcome to join us and just chat about your day. :)


Current Activities

Under this section you will find what the Bowmen and their friends are up to at the moment.

The Mistress Archer and Rhwen are setting out on a quest for Bril, who might be in trouble in the city of Dale where the toymakers are on strike. Joins us! :)

Guildhouse history

The Merry Bowmen of Dale II

The second guildhouse was built because, well... Shadow-Walker put it down very nicely:
The old Guild House was grandfathered in because it was over a year old and before the new Revised Code of Dale (herein referred to as RCD) had been released. Now we need to have a wetland specialist do a habitat study on the new location to ensure that no Wetlands (herein referred to as WL) in excess of class V are being infringed upon. Class IV and Class III need to have 50 foot buffers between the new Guild House and the edge of the WL in accordance with RCD 27.253.8. That should take about 2 weeks to finish. Ok, once the WL is cleared we then have to apply for a Forest Practices Permit. This requires that any land in excess of 2 acres in area that will require the removal and sale of *any* timber from the property needs approval from the Department of Natural Resources. The permit process there takes about 3 weeks to complete assuming there are no hitches along the way. Now we need to address the water and septic issues. The old septic system is no longer up to code (see RCD 98.2.158). We need to apply for a new septic permit to deal with the (what are we up to now, 8?) bedroom load on the system. This system must be designed by an approved Septic Designer. See list at local Permit Office. Once that is designed it must be submitted along with 435 gold pieces to the Health Department for approval. Now a new well must be drilled as the new septic field lays within the 50' radius buffer and the old well was deemed to have been contaminated. So, get a licenced well driller, have pressure, biological and chemical tests run, then stick a water meter on it and submit that with 187 gold pieces to the Health Department. 5 weeks later when that's all approved we can take the structural plans to the Building Department only to be told that we can't apply yet because the Engineering Department has not yet issued us a new address and the Fire Department hasn't addressed how to service us propertly. 3 weeks later when we go *back* to the Building Department with 1,853 gold pieces to submit 2 sets of structural plans, 2 sets of engineering, plumbing and mechanical permit, and the 3 foot stack of various accompanying paperwork, we'll be told it'll take 6 - 8 weeks for the approval to come through. In that time, we'll be told that the original septic design was done according to outdated standards so we must revise and resubmit that. We'll also be informed that the RCD has been updated and we are no longer in accordance with the public transportation laws as found in RCD 4.558.89.


The Merry Bowmen of Dale I
Last edited by Canamarth on Sun Oct 31, 2010 12:03 pm, edited 24 times in total.
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Canamarth
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Postby Canamarth » Thu Dec 06, 2007 8:41 am

Members and Friends


Members (in order of appearance) are:

Canamarth - Mistress Archer
Mistress Canamarth, fair Lady of Dale,
Beware her blades that strike without fail
race: Man
gender: female
weapons: bow, shortsword, various hidden throwing devices
about myself: I'm originally from Dorwinion, grew up in Mirkwood, then moved to Esgaroth and travelled a lot
personality: calm, trying to stay in the background of things
appearance: rather small, long black hair, blue eyes, two intricately drawn tattoos on my cheeks as well as lines on the back of my hands, black leather suit (if not stated otherwise)
knight protector: Maeglin
Canamarth's Picture

Lysandros - Master Archer
From the Iron Hills to the crossings at Poros
There is no greater marksman than Master Lysandros
RACE: Human
GENDER: Male
ORIGIN: Family has lived in Dale since the beginning, before the Houses of the Edain had departed for Beleriand. Only descendant of family, parents dead, sibling killed in War of the Ring.
APPEARANCE: Tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, short beard. Wears a small mithril coat beneath his tunic, otherwise garbed as a hunter would, except for a marvellous mithril blade found long ago hidden in a cave in Morthond, Gondor. ALso have a short bow such as the Wood Elves of the Greenwood use. A shield adorned with the emblem of Dale.
ABOUT: Hates nothing but orcs. Did not fight in Dale during WR, but in Gondor since I was there on a journey anyway. Generally of happy disposition. As a hunter, I am accounted a rival of Elves in skill. I ride a grey horse, named Bukephalos.

crispycreme

Maeglin - Dragon Slayer
Our first ever marksman Maeglin,
Known as ranger, Fork, and twin
race: Half-Elf
gender: male
About: A ranger, don't like to bound himself, only the guild and his lady made him stay at the merry bowmen of Dale
Personality: More elf than human, fierce in battle, kept his thoughts to himself, trying to be reasonable.
Appearance:Normal sized, strong shoulders and arms, lightly build, muscular belly and legs. long blond hair and blue eyes.
Wears most of the time black leather armor and black boots
Weapons: Throwing knifes, Long Sword (who has a name but that is another story) and a Composite longbow, his favorite weapon.
lady of his heart: Canamarth

Volcanus

Themedes - Member of the Order of Girion
Themedes, wielder of the great spoon,
Courageous, loyal, not thwarted soon
Race: Peredhil, ½elf.
Gender: Male as male can be.
About: Wanders around doing different tasks for people in high places, might be called a "hired sword" by some people, but never to his face.
Personality: Unforgiving. Ruthless in battle. Relentless in his quest for personal insight. Has many secrets that relate to his elven heritage and his bloodline that seems to possess mystical powers. Does not like the quendi (elves), infact he hates them. His hate is somewhat justified however, but enough of that here.
Appearance: A tall muscular man, with pitchblack hair and grey eyes. He wears a black platemail armor that is adorned with spikes on the knees, shoulders and elbows. With his armor, he wears a thick grey cloak. Multiple battlescars decorate his body all over. His latest scar, caused by an undead monster from the Bowmens last adventure, is a sickly gray long streak that runs across his right shoulder and all the way down to his back. He seems to be extraordinarily hard to kill and has been resurrected more than once on a battlefield.
Weapons and such: Spinecutter, his companion, the sword he has forged himself. The weapon has many powers, but the most dangerous one is it´s ability to leave wounds that can never heal naturally. It is said that this infernal power comes from a demon that has been trapped inside the sword, but nobody else but the dark knight knows this for sure. He also has an axe, also forged by his own hands, that is aptly named ShieldBraker. Sometimes he uses his bow TrueStrike as well, but that is a rare occasion, since his usual tactic is to rush into battle as soon as possible.
His horse: Raider is a black stallion, that has been the knights steed for many years now. The horse is cavalry trained and can act well in battle and understands even more difficult commands. Raider is usually protected by an armor of horses platemail, made from a special meteorite steel. The horse seems to carry the armor with great ease.

Gorin - Toymaker
Axe he wields and bow he's skilled in,
You'd best not cross the dwarf named Gorin
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Male
Origins: Born of Dale, but left at an early age to travel the lands, to see the ancient places of his people, but has returned to the land of his father.
Appearence: Short and very stocky, with a long black plaited beard and black hair, wears mithril mail (and old family aireloom) under a wragged shirt, and brown trousers, tucked in to a pair of ehavy black boots.
Personality: Easy going, always laughing and joking, but serious in battle, and drinking.
Weapons: His broad headed battle axe, Gurt, is always at his side looking for the next greenskin neck to cleave! His own specialy crafted bow is also just as deadly.

Lokia - Noble Sniper
race: Elf
gender: female
weapon: bow and arrows
about myself: i'm a elf from Rivendell, but i travel across the land in search of an adventure on my horse Arnain.
personality: sprited,outgoing,and adventurous
appearance: long brown hair,green eyes, wearing a green archer outfit (like the one Legolas wears in the movie only green).
horse: My horse Arnian is a grayish color stallion. He was given to me by my father.Arnian's brother(Artamis)is riden by my brother.

Smaug's Bane - Noble Sniper
Name: Dirk, the Daring. He once travelled under the pseudonym of SB, but no longer uses it.
Race: Númenoréan. His mother's side is directly descended from the line of Elros Tar-Minyatur. Though he is not of the line of Kings. He is more closely related to Valandil and his line from Andunië, the westerners of the Land of Gift, who were ever the friends of the Eldar. His mother's lineage can be traced to a cousin of Elendil the Tall, the sire of the kings of Gondor and Arnor. This cousin traveled with Elendil to Middle Earth at the time of the Downfall. His Father was the Witch-King of Angmar. Dirk carries the genes of the man that the Witch-King had been before he succumbed to Sauron. Prior to the seduction of the rings, the Witch-King had been a great king of men, also of the line of Elros, however, not directly descended in the line of Kings of Númenóre. He was of a secondary line related to Ar-Pharazon.
Age: Twenty
Height: Above average man-height (6'6")
Weight: 225 lbs
Apperance: Tall, SB was once a stout boy. But now, after his trials with the evil side of his heritage, he has grown somewhat thinner, though he is still muscular, and strong than ever, both physically and mentally. He has a tattoo across his back of a black winged dragon - Ancalagon - it spans from shoulderblade to shoulderblade and extends up the back of his neck. There is a large burn/laceration scar on the left side of his neck, sustained in a fight with Murannon the Balrog (see the Lucky Fortune Inn, 22March2002) There is also a knife scar from ear to ear across SB's throat, courtesy of Anya_Skywalker. (See AMMM Fed, 4 Apr 02) Due to this SB can only speak in a whisper. Missing left index finger.
Hair Color: Black as Jet. Often pulled into a single, long, tight braid.
Eye Color: grey, the windows of his soul, they always burn with a fire, the flame's colour and intensity depend on mood
Marital Status: Single, stung by the loss of his beloved Leoba of Ithilien, it will be some time before he is interested in another lady
Occupation: "between jobs" former Handyman, Waiter, everything at his father's Inn. Failed dark lord of Angmar. Currently an adventurer, seeking redemption for some past indiscretions.
Outfit: Black. Black leather breeches from Gondor, high black leather riding boots from Rohan (very nices ones, at that). Black Cloak. He wears a well-tailored black linen shirt under his galvorn hauberk and vambraces. The armor pieces are on loan currently from the Mithril Knights' armory. Once he feels the he has earned them, he shall ask Guildmaster Elbren for them permanently. His mithril mail coat, a gift of Glorfindel, has been given to a young warrior woman in Dorwinion. Dirk relied too heavily upon the hidden armor, which gave him a feeling of invincibility; and was nearly killed because of it. To teach himself a lesson in humility, and as a remembrance of his own mortality, he decided to gift the mail to a talented, burgeoning warrior-girl for her heroism in defending her town against the onslaught of a column of Easterlings. (See the Merry Bowmen of Dale.) On his right ring finger is a plain-looking silver ring, without a stone or any mar or scratch. This is Mithcharach, the Dark Ring of the Voice. It gives SB the ability to project his voice into the minds of any sentient being in Middle Earth. It also empowers SB's voice with the ability to persuade. The weaker the mind, the more effective the ring is. The meanest creatures of Middle Earth can be wholly controlled by its power and the wisest completely immune.
Weapons: His sword, named Carch Urulóki in Quenya, Neleg Amlug in Sindarin, and Dragon's Tooth in the Common Speech of men, a razor-sharp, well-crafted blade in a sheath of black leather, bound with fine silver. The sheath was a gift from Thranduil, king of Greenwood. The blade is very powerful, old and enchanted. (See post in this thread from Sept. 8th for its full story.) The Dragon's Tooth can be attached to SB's black leather Baldric either at his hip or across his back. Also attached to the Baldric is a brace of 4 blackened steel throwing knives, they hang inverted at the small of his back, held in place by an ingenious mechanism. His bow, made in the style of Mirkwood and of wood from that forest was built for him by ereine, of the Craftmaster's Guild. It too, is magical,it does seem to have a mind of its own. He carries a quiver of matching Mirkwood arrows, which he always seems able to recover. In his boot is a small knife. Quite an ordinary knife really with a wooden handle and plain steel hilts in such a sheath as would be fit to conceal in a tall boot. It had no markings of any kind; neither did it sparkle with the polished finish of the elven or Númenórean master smiths. But it was a well-made, stout little knife.
Means of Travel: Endlómë (Midnight in Quenya), whose sire was a gift to King Bard II of Dale from Éomer of Rohan. Midnight is an elegant, proud and yet sturdy stallion. He was a dear-bought gift from SB's foster father, Drake of Esgaroth. (for further information on Midnight, see post from July 28, 2002 in this thread.)
Skills Include: Stealth, of a magnitude not thought possible for such a large human. Approaching Elven or Hobbit stealth. Becoming more and more reliant on his increasing skills as a swordsman, he relies on his stealth less and less in battle. A decent bowman, as any man of Laketown would be. However, because of the nature of his bow, (which seems to have a mind of its own, as well as the arrows, which seem to work in concert, sometimes against SB), he is not always deadly accurate. However, he always seems to hit the mark when it is really necessary.
For more details.

Bardhwyn of Dale - Noble Sniper
In flight from grief to the Dorwinion vales
To meet her fate, rode Bardhwyn of Dale
Race: Man
Gender: Female
Weapon: Recurve Bow, archer's long knife, broadsword, throwing knives.
Appearance: Average height. Blonde hair, warn short. Grey-Blue eyes, athetic in build. Large scar down left side of her face. Brand of an exiled traitor on her right inner forearm. Her hands are calloused and rough from her martial practices. She wears only one piece of jewelery, a gold ring set with a jet black stone. Attire: Cloak of earthy brown, breeches, coat of mail under a green tunic.
Personality: Friendly, though reserved about herself. She has a keen sense of The Good and struggles ever to ally herself with it, for she is often resident in the grey areas of life where good and bad are hard to discern. She can be impulsive, particularly if her interest is piqued, therefore flashes of temper may arise, or intense displays of joy and pleasure. When she's focused she can be very kind and compassionate. She inherited Truthsense from her mother, who, she thinks was of distant Numenorean descent though can't be sure. The Truthsense allows her to sense when the truth is being told, or not. On occassion she can compell another to even speak the truth, but only when she is of a clear and compassionate mind and usually will collapse unconscious for many hours afterwards. Needless to say, she will rarely employ this. Her scar has a spell working upon it, and it provides her with advance warning when danger is near. She enjoys a pipe, single malt whisky and singing, slaying Orc and Brigand. She will always come to the aid of children or creature unduly treated. She has no knight errant and her heart is her own to give or keep as she chooses.
Transportation: First horse - Chestnut gelding name Thain. Second horse - Black Stallion with white flashes - Courage
Brief Bio: Daughter of Bardhol of Dale, who was High Consul and best friend to King Brand of Dale. She and her three brothers, two elder and one younger, were raised by her widowed father. Her mother died when she was six years old. She was raised like a boy, therefore and learned all the things a boy would learn, swimming, tree climbing, the art of the sword and bow, hunting and fishing, wrestling - though she was always bested. The Crown Prince of Dale, Bard, was like a fourth brother to young Bardhwyn and the children of Bardhol and Brand were inseperable. As time passed, Bardhwyn grew into a fair young woman and her father and the King saw that the friendship between Bardhwyn and Bard took on more tender affections. It was fully expected that Bardhwyn would be Bard's fiance and future Queen. In preparation Bardhol sent Bardhwyn away to the court of Thranduil to learn the fair arts of a maiden (and a future Queen) under the expert tutelage of one of Thranduil's sisters. While the Crown Prince Bard served his three yeas as a Guard of the White Tower under the Steward of Gondor, a tradition followed by all the Crown Princes of Dale in recognition of the Throne of Gondor, Bardhwyn spent three years in the Mirkwood. During their seperation their love did not diminish in that time, but steadily deepened. Upon the Crown Prince's return from Gondor, Bardhwyn returned to Dale and they were betrothed. This was nigh a year and a half before the outbreak of War and the massing of the Enemy on the boarders of Dale. It wasn't long after their engagement that Bard was often away, taking his position as the leader of Dale's troops. War loomed and broke. The Easterlings pushed the forces of Dale back across the River Carnen to the very gates of Dale, then Erebor itself. The House of Brand rallied at the gates of Erebor and next to them stood the House of Bardhol, including Bardhwyn herself. She would not take refuge in the cave's of the Dwarves but desired to fight in the daylight with her kin. She saw King Brand fall, then her father. She witnessed the fall of each of two eldest brothers, then lastly, her youngest brother who died in her arms. She herself had taken and arrow and fell uconscious on the field. She was thought dead, but when the Easterlings retreated she was retrieved and she soon recovered in body, though her spirit was sorely grieved. The grief at losing her family estranged her from her fiance and King, for Bard II was young and overwhelmed with the task of Sovereignty. The engangement was dissolved and in her pain she sought fell company. She was wooed by a wicked man Malthus, who only desired Bard's downfall. This man ultimately proposed the death of Bard and the usurption of the throne - for him to assume. Bardhwyn stood against him and refused to aid him and just as he raised his sword to strike her, the Kings men assailed the traitorous band. A fire ensued and Malthus escaped but Bardhwyn was captured while she rescued several children from the flames. She was tried and convicted as a traitor, sentenced by Bard himself. Instead of death, he imposed branding and exile, saying that were she to ever set foot in any part of Middle Earth, she'd forfiet her life. The brand was burnt upon her right inner forearm and she left an exile the next day for the East. To wander the lands of Middle Earth, for her, is dangerous and her only defence is deception, secrecy and the aid of her few trusted friends. Any agent of the Crown, upon discovering her and her status of traitor has due cause to hang her and her companions. She went Eastwards, therefore, alone and in search of her fate.

Princess Melika - Noble Sniper
Race: Man
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 115
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Marital Status: Single
Occupation: Princess in Exile, Traveler until such time as she finds a way to return home to reclaim her throne.
Outfit: Camoflauge when traveling. An attractive blue dress when not traveling.
Means of Travel: A grey mare named Kidja.
Weapons of Choice: A sword which, when knocked out of her hand, returns to it's sheath. Ordinary bow and quiver of arrows. Hunting knife used as last resort when in combat.
Skills Include: Pretty good with sword. Excellent archer. Some skills as a healer. Knows quite a bit of woodcraft from her experiences as a Shepherdess; almost as much (if not as much) as the average elf.
Personality: Has sense of humor and is intelligent. However, because of childhood experiences, has a fear of rejection, and a desire to be accepted by others. Fiercely loyal to friends (Oyarsa, Anya, Lysandros, and others) Slow to anger, most of the time.
Her history: http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhiteco ... adid=34533

Melethril o Belain - Archer of Dale
short: meleth.
gender: female.
race: peredhil.
origin: dale.
appearance: childish, tall, with brown hair and black eyes.
moving with the confidence and deadliness as an experienced warrior.
weapon: bow and arrows, and knifes(often hidden).
clothes: red wool cloak embroided with silver-thread. black plain linen shirt, and a black skirt, dvivided for riding. high black boots.
age: too young.

Bard_the_archer - Archer of Dale

Cattergon - Toymaker
Nick: Pyroman
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Race: Men
Alliance: Dale
Weapons: Composite Long Bow, a poisoned Dagger, and a broad sword.
Personality: Is an excellent archer and arrow-maker. Knows how to command his fellow troops, and is an expert strategist. Knows how to camouflage also. Is silent, but deadly.
History: Even since a child, he liked to burn things. He would sit outside on a winter day, and burn little figures that he found. When older, he went to the service of Dale, and became a Pyro Archer. His arrows were distinguishable, because of the explosion that came after they hit an enemy. Has become greatly feared over the years. Went into the cavalry division, and got his own horse, whom he named Pyros. Still remains in the service of Dale, but is now more of a mercenary, looking for a wager. Has served in many battles against the Dark Lord of Mordor.
Appearance: Has thick but flexible hair. Brown hair. Weighs 150 lbs, so is fairly light for his heighth. Heigth: 6'6" Is somewhat muscular. Has a green tunic, with a hood that covers his face when he is picking off enemies. Casts a shadow upon his forehead and covers his eyes. Has green pants, and brown shoes. Has a white horse named Pyros.

Teltasarewen, better known as Telta - Noble Sniper
Gender: Female
Age: Stopped keeping track for it serves no purpose but to remind one of things long past
Race: Elf
Appearance: Telta stands a little over 6' and has sky blue eyes and short blonde hair. Usually found garbed in pants, knee high boots and tunic over a blouse.
Occupation: For a very long time a thief (picking pockets her speciality) but has since then given it up and was hired as a waitress at the Lucky Fortune Inn and is a Bard.
Weapons: 2 daggers which she is highly skilled with and deadly when needs be.
Bio: Thief...it was a name Telta had learned to live with. She was not proud of it but it was the occupation that she had immersed herself in. A dangerous life though it mattered not. Ever since the death of her twin brother she had wandered aimlessly living from day to day distancing herself from everyone never getting involved with or letting anyone get close to her. She and Thalirhos, her older brother by a small margin, had been very close. They trained together learning sword skills and archery. Both were often found practicing and testing each other, pushing themselves and each other to their limits. It was one such occasion that had set her on her dangerous path.Practicing archery skills as they were wont to do, selecting targets for each other Thalirhos held up an apple, something he loved to eat, betting her that she could not hit it. Confident that she could she agreed. She did not know that he had meant to hold it while she tried to hit it. Small doubts had her trying to get out of it but he only dismissed her protests challenging her to try and outshoot him. And determined to do just that her pride winning out over her sense she took the shot. But it was not apple flesh that the arrow struck. Thalirhos had been struck and when he cried out it crushed her. There was nothing she could do the wound was fatal. She held him close even after he had passed away. Her clothes were soaked with his blood and so too was her hair that had laid in his blood upon the ground. In a fit of uncontrolled grief and anger at what she had done Telta cut her waist length hair off short and left Mirkwood never to look back. Grief, loneliness and despair encompassed her like a cloak as she wandered empty and uncaring. In this frame of mind she delved into the role of a thief finding that the dangers involved were the only thing that made her feel anything at all. That was until she came to the Lucky Fortune. A new life began for her then when a kind and generous offer from Erinhue, the co-owner of the Lucky Fortune helped her to give up her former life. No one before had reached her, no one cared until then and it touched something inside her that she thought long dead. She ceased being a thief and is trying to learn to live with others and making a few friends as she goes along.

HuanofValinor
Age: unknown - but very old
Race: wolfhound
Height: very tall, acromion - 4,5 ft.
Weight: 100 kilogram
Talents: has the gift of unlimited speaking
He's a direct descendant of HUAN the Wolfhound of Valinor and wanders alone through the northern woods and areas. The wolfhound is searching for Sauron and he had heard, that he was seen in the south
of Mirkwood area. He wants to take vengeance, for all that evil which
Sauron has done in the past, to his friends and family.
On his way down south he makes a rest in the Merry Bowmen of Dale
guildhouse. He enjoys the hospitality and kindness of the guild members and the friendship of Chirion, Rho's wolf. So he decides to stay longer there.
To Canamarth he feels a special connection and accepts her, as his "Mistress".

Alandriel - Noble Sniper
Race: Human, Dunedain
Gender: Female
Age: middle years
Height: 160cm, slender but tough
Hair: Flaming red to mid back and at times quite unruly. As it attracts quite a lot attention, it is usually well hidden under a hood
Eyes: Grey-green
Status: single
Occupation: Ranger and master herbalist/healer
Personality: Quiet and soft spoken unless provoked, weary of people at first, extremely observant with a sharp awareness and biting wit at times, tendency to get lost in memories and some what brooding when the mood kicks in, honest and loyal to friends
Appearance: Usually dressed in travel garb: soft brown leather leggings and boots (much worn), dark green tunic with detachable sleeves and hood. She also owns a grey elf cloak, the Earth Ring of Change and a small silver brooch of unusual design. The latter she carries always hidden in her travel pack (see bio). Also a faint birthmark on her wrist which will play an important role in discovering her heritage
Travel: A dark brown stallion (Ethalon) given to her by King Elessar after his wedding, being related to the famous Shadowfax, a truly royal gift indeed. When not travelling with Alandriel, Ethalon roams free nearby but will answer his mistress's call

Friends and Travelling Companions

Thenie - Rider of Rohan
RACE: man
GENDER: female
WEAPONS: Broadsword, forged in Gondor long ago, family heirloom on her mother's side, passed to each eldest daughter. Others as need permits, handy with a knife, especially when hunting.
MOUNT: Various, as the situation permits, currently SteadyWing, breeded by herself in her father's stables, uniting long distance travel with equally possibilty for a progressed gallop. A chesnut brown stallion with braided black mane and flowing tail.
ABOUT: Lived upon the Wold of Rohan her whole life. Lost father and eldest brother in the War of the Ring, raised by mother and two surviving older brothers. Grown strong by long hardship, voluntarily inflicted, which finally gained Thenie admittance into a renowned eord, at which time was lead by her own brother. A misunderstanding lead to her voluntary flight, and now Thenie wanders through Middle Earth trying in vain to reconcile the two conflicting passions of her heart: a hard loyalty and fierce independence.
PERSONALITY: Contented almost to a fault, the eternal optimist who always sees the best in people and is often blind to their faults. Ever ready with a smile and a helping hand, beware the turn of her character, a stubborn streak, and the battle trained Rohirrim.
APPEARANCE: Of normal hight, her slight build often belies the strength of well trained, and well tried, muscles beneath. Emerald green eyes, another heirloom from her mother, with hair as dark as deepest night, or a magpie's wing, an oddity among the Rohirrim...

Thalas
SilverScribe
Name: that's best left forgotten . . .
Goes by: SilverScribe, nickname - Scribbles.
Gender: Often mistaken for male, but actually female.
Age: Remembers the coming of the Istari, so older than dirt.
Race: Half-elven, half-Númenorean.
Height: Tall (6 foot even, in bare feet)
General Appearance: Plain, unremarkable. Tanned, high cheekbones, dark blue/violet eyes with muted silver specks. Slightly pointed ears. Hair is a thick, unmanageable mane, usually messy, mix of pale blond liberally streaked with silver (sort of a mother-of-pearl effect).
Usual Attire: Plain, no visible jewellery or ornamentation, but wears Journeyman Bard brooch on left shoulder of overtunic, under cloak. Grey-blue trousers and overtunic, grey shirt, dark belt and boots. Never without grey elven cloak with large hood.
Usual Transportation: Not averse to walking, but known to buy and lose horses at an alarming rate. Favours big, high-strung warhorses.
Weapons:
-Double edged broadsword (Celebamarth), Númenorean hilt, replacement blade of Elvish make, marked with Elven runes.
- Elven longbow, but styled somewhat after the Welsh longbow of early 13th century Earth.
- A garrot, a stilleto, and any number of other little hidden surprises.
Occupation: Scribe, Student, Istari understudy, Bookworm, Lore Seeker, Wanderer, Poet, Storyteller and general Nuisance. Oh yeah, and dear old dad made sure Warrior was the very first trade . . . .
Skills: A little of this, oddments of that. Accomplished with a sword and fair at archery. Can sing (reasonably well) but prefers not to.

Menon

Jiyadan
Jiyadan's Picture

Rholarowyn

Bryttar
Race: Human (Rohan)
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Height: 6 ft.
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Occupation: Has served several years with the Riders of the Mark, and is a bard.
Weapons: Short bow (for shooting off horseback) sword, and daggers
Horse: Cresterl, a chestnut gelding
Personality: Generally calm in nature, he is laid back, enjoys sharing good stories, and making people laugh. However, he does have a strong commitment to duty and will defend that and those he cares about.
History: Born in the northwestern part of Rohan, Bryttar was the youngest of three sons born to Aytan and his wife. His father and uncle Ryomer (Rolarowyn's father) owned a horse-breeding farm, which Bryttar and his two older brothers, Eldred and Rydan, helped with until the fateful day when Aytan and Ryomer went off to buy a new stallion and never returned. Two years later, when Bryttar was 16 and the family finally let go of the farm, Bryttar took his two brother's advice and joined up with the Riders of the Mark. It was one year later when the older brother's uncovered the truth, or what they thought was the truth, about the fate of their father and uncle that lead to a drastic change in the young Rohirrim's life.
After receiving permission for a temporary leave from the Riders, Bryttar went off to Minas Tirith to inform Rho and her mom of Ryomer's murder. But once this message was delivered, the usually level headed Rohirrim left the White City and took to wandering the land for the next 19 months. Sending no word to anyone as to his whereabouts during this time. However, the peace he was seeking was not to be found in the wilds, so eventually he returned to Minas Tirith and decided to further his education since both he and Rho had been taught how to read and write by Lawen (Rho's mom and sister to Denethor) when they had grown up together in Rohan.
So it was while he was living here, and studying that he met and fell in love with and a Gondorian woman, Nichela, and eventually asked her to marry him. But eventually Bryttar's abandonment of his post with the Riders of the Mark came up, and the young woman's father put a halt to their engagement, explaining to the 21 year old Rohirrim that his inability to keep his commitments made him unsuitable to be with his daughter. So with a broken heart, Bryttar headed back to Rohan and submitted himself to the authority of the King Theoden. After a probationary period, he eventually regained his position with the Riders again and continued to serve with them.
When Bryttar was 23, Eldred and Rydan contacted both him and Rholarowyn with the identity of the men who had murdered Aytan and Ryomer. And after getting a somewhat reluctant and clearly a temporary leave from the Riders, Bryttar, along with his two brothers, and cousin Rho, sought out these two men, apprehended them, and then returned to Rohan to see justice done. Afterwards Bryttar continued to faithfully serve with the Riders of the Mark for about two years following the War of the Ring while working his way up to being one of Eomer's trusted guards. But a strange twist of fate and internal darkness within the Riders of the Mark, that he helped to resolve, lead this Rohirrim to resign his post. It was his cousin Rholarowyn who brought the possibility of joining Mithril Knights to his attention where his skills from the years of being in service to Rohan could once again be utilized.

Moujhadin

Tallain
Real Name: Tallain Ghârduin
Known As: Tallain
Race: Human (east)
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Height: 5'10''
Hair: dark
Eyes: hazel, flecked with green
Occupation: Wanderer and adventurer - currently Mithril Knight in training
Weapons: longbow and arrows, short swords
Possessions: not many - saddle bags and weapons mainly
Garments: dark leather trousers, knee high worn travel boots, black shirt, a jerkin with some complex embroidery denoting his house
At First glance: Tallain appears wary at first meeting. He is small for his people and is fairly defensive about his height. His hair is long and is kept generally tied back with a leather thing. In the manner of his people, he wears an earring in one ear only, and has complex henna tattoos on his back (not that you would necessarily see those ).
Tallain is actually extremely unlike his Easterling heritage. He is honest and open and actually loves the thrill of travel and the open road. He is also extremely courteous and has a tendency to defend those less able to defend themselves. He has not met many elves so is generally quite unsure of how to act around these mythical creatures who have always stood against everything his people stood for, but he is open enough to want to get to know what others are about.
He has recently arrived in this area from the east and has not seen many hobbits at all. He is generally quite shy around human women and has not had many 'encounters' with them.
He looks battle ready and is useful in a fight, being quick and agile. His preference is for ranged combat although he is comfortable in fighting with dual short swords should hand to hand combat arise.
History: Tallain is the youngest son in a family of 12 (8 sons, 4 daughters). His father is a lord amongst his peoples and has 3 wives. Tallain was born to the youngest of these and was always the 'baby'. However his father never really had much time for him as he was often interested in pursuits that did not involve much combat, such as music and reading. He was not puny however, and found he was quick and able despite his size.
Since adolescence he has found he has an ability to empathise with emotions - this is thought to have come from his mother's side, as she has some unusual heritages that are thought to possibly trace back to distant Elven ancestry. He can 'feel' emotions, and this has led him to be calm in the face of anger and sometimes be able to diffuse situations. However this ability has also set him apart as he was seen as a 'sissy' by his more warlike brothers.
He can read and write, and is good with the written word when he finds the time. He was trained in the fighting arts but always preferred a bow, another thing his father found strange. He is not interested in politics at all and finds the whole idea of governing frightening.
At 20 he left his home in the Eastern lands to seek adventure to the West. He had heard many stories of strange and mythical beings such as Elves and little people, and yearned to discover if they were true.
He took up with a group of travellers who were looking for an escort around the Dark Lands to the West - here he fought his first combat against roving bands of orcs and barely made it through alive. He does not like Orcs and finds them distasteful and something to be slain at will.
For 2 years he has been wandering - he has seen and met several Elves but still feels very uncertain about how to behave around them. He is particularly fascinated by those who do not have the traditional Easterling appearance - i.e. fair hair and eyes.
He is an honest and reliable sort and due to his ability often reads events and the people involved in these very adroitly, but he is only beginning to learn to trust his gift and still often acts without thinking, especially when it comes to injustice and those less able to defend themselves being attacked or put in danger.

Zhyranon

Leoba
race: human
gender: female

Frelga
race: human
gender: female

Túrin
race: human
gender: male
Túrin's Picture (on the right)

Maradir
race: human
gender: male
Maradir's Picture (the middle man)

shaggydog - Bril
race: dire wolf - mostly


Captain of Dale's Air Forces

Magpie Jen
Swift on the wing, a be-feathered dart,
From heaven she falls,
A brave soul, bright heart.
RACE: Magpie
GENDER: female
WEAPONS: beak, talon and wit
ORIGIN: Woken by the talents of Radagast, then taught speech by the Elves in the late morning of the world (it was almost noon really )
APPEARANCE: Stunning white and iridescent black/green/purple feathers, strong black beak, bright eyes, long tail.
ABOUT: Of old she flew with the crebain and was counted amongst the great of their foul number, yet despite this rebellion against her gentle origins and through long adventure she came again to cherish peace, order and light.

Archery instructor:
Huantir of the people of Thranduil
race: Elf
gender: male

Instructor of archery and falconry:
Luna Rose of the people of Lothlorien
race: Elf
gender: female

Birthday calendar:

Princess Melika - 01.01.
Teherin - 15.01.
Alandriel - 27.02.
Lokia - 03.03.
Lysandros - 04.03.
Magpie Jen - 11.04.
Gorin - 19.05.
Huan - 12.06.
Teltasarewen - 13.06
Maeglin - 18.09.
Smaug's Bane - 27.10.
Bardwhyn - 30.10.
Rholarowyn - 21.11.
areanor - 05.12.
Themedes - 12.12.
Canamarth - 20.12.
Last edited by Canamarth on Mon Sep 28, 2009 2:33 am, edited 14 times in total.
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Postby Canamarth » Thu Dec 06, 2007 9:10 am

On a hill at the edge of the forest, a few miles out of Dale, stands a log cabin with a nice verandah overlooking the vale. Erebor can be seen in the background, making for a nice picture-postcard-view.

Should a visitor approach from the little road leading out of Dale, he would hear clancking and hammering at the site of the Merry Bowmen of Dale's Guildhouse. He would probably be astonished to see several people out on the archery range behind the great log cabin who do not seem to notice the renovation works right underneath their noses. But they are probably too immersed in their archery competition.



After the first round of the archery competiton was over, Oi, the resident dwarf, bartender and jack of all trades, slipped a sturdy iron key into the Mistress Archer's, hands. "All done and ready, Canamarth" - "Thanks," she whispered and turned back to the competition. The hammering had stopped.
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Postby Khorazir » Thu Dec 06, 2007 1:51 pm

Túrin was by no means sorry about having to leave after the first round. He had never expected to win the competition, on the contratry, he had quite reckoned with being one of the first to leave. Bowing to the assembly (somewhat carefully so as not spill his drink), "May you have better luck at this than I," he wished the others good-humouredly.

Then he went to set aside his bow and arrows and find himself a comfortable spot from where to enjoy his drink and watch the remainder of the competition, and the waitress.
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Postby The,real,Maeglin » Fri Dec 07, 2007 12:08 am

When Maeglin gave a glance at the target he noticed that he defenitly was out of practice but atleast he had made it till the second round. He figured if he took his second shot now, he still would have some time to get himself an ale and get to know the guests a bit better or share some tales with the "old"members since the past weeks felt like a blur to him.

This time he took aim a little longer, pulling the string of his longbow as steady as he could, he narrowed his eyes again and let the arrow fly...

Ooc: I call a 6.

When he turned around He noticed Turin striding towards a seemingly comfortable spot where he would have a clear view of everything, so he figured that was a good place as any to wait what the other contestants would do.

"I hope you dont mind master Turin that I join you here for a few minutes, but it just so seems you picked the perfect spot... "

Maeglin gave an approving look to the serving wench, making sure Canamarth wouldn't see to much of it lest he became target practice as well..
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Postby rwhen » Fri Dec 07, 2007 9:27 am

Rwhen pulled up a seat next to Turin and casually laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Master Turin, I see this was not your round. Do not be dismayed, all is not lost. There are other contests yet to be had. I have brought you a plate of roast beef, roasted taters and fresh greens to go with that drink. One must maintain balance. Enjoy and I will be back before you know it."

Rwhen returned to the station as Oi brought out a kegger of fine stout.

"Eh, you'll be keepin' yer hands ta yerself thare, missy," he turned on a heel and went back inside with that remark.

"Guess he's still uptight about the Gimleh dummy," she said to no one in particular. Maeglin, was now standing by Turin, Dirk was on the opposite side of the field looking seriously at his darts.

Rwhen decided to check on the ladies to see if they required any refreshment. She would probably be run off, but it is always good to show that she was equally comfortable serving ladies as the men.
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Love is as big or as little as a hug!!

vison! Alex!Rowanberry!

I will always treasure and remember your appreciation. Thank you. -2007 WCA's
Overwhelmed by your support and appreciation. Thank you. - 2008 WCA's

The Expected Party!! is now on the road to Gondor to celebrate. Join us.

And getting into trouble with Rally The Eldar.

Time out of Mind, forever bound to my Knight Ayslhyn

Vanadarlin', my SSOTH - 143 forever :hug:
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Postby Canamarth » Fri Dec 07, 2007 9:42 am

"Oh, you're Valar-sent, rwhen," Canamarth answered the elf's inquiry about another drink. "Maradir has his qualities but serving drinks is certainly not one of them. I ordered my usual red from Dorwinion and what does he bring back from the cellars? That awful stuff from Rhûn I was saving for unwelcome guests..."

Canamarth waved at Maeglin and Túrin who were staring in her direction. When their gazes followed rhwen walking back to the guildhouse, however, she put her arm down slowly. "What is it with those elven ladies? Why are they so irresistible?," she queried, looking at Frelga for an answer who happened to stand close.


OOC: Old and new travelling companions - if you want anything added or changed in your CVs or your birthdays known so we can celebrate (see second post) don't hesitate to say so. :)
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Postby Khorazir » Fri Dec 07, 2007 11:59 am

"Not at all," Túrin replied to Maeglin, glad about some company. The other seemed easy-going enough, and not to take the competition too seriously,either.

When rwhen touched his shoulder he gave a small start, not having heard the Elf step over to him. Surprisedly, he gazed at the plate she placed on his lap. The food smelled delicious, and made him realise how hungry he was. "Thank you very much, mylady," he said, but before he could add anything else, like inviting her to stay for a while, she had left again already.

He gave a slight shrug, wondering if there might be any pudding, before arranging himself so that he could eat comfortably. Nudging Maeglin, "Didn't know there was such excellent service here," he told the other appreciatively. "Mistress Canamarth seems to have built quite a place. Have you been here before? And where are my manners?" he added, indicating his plate. "Would you like a bite?"
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Postby SmaugsBane » Fri Dec 07, 2007 12:28 pm

(OOC: Canamarth, Dirk's profile has changed a hundred times since I wrote that for you. For now, could you just replace it with this link? I am in the process of writing a biography for the Mithril Knight Website and when it's done, you can copy-and-paste it here, if you like.)

Dirk attempted to bribe Maradir with silver from his purse, but couldn't get the strings untied before he was halfway across the field to inspect the target.

Dirk's forehead furrowed as Canamarth announced that the tie would result in both penultimately inaccurate archers advancing to the next round.

He took another deep pull from the mug and paced a small distance away from the group, ruminating on his plans to get himself eliminated in order to lounge and drink.

The young man in black armor was playing absent-mindedly with the arrow that Leoba had given to him for his next shot while he thought and paced. He stopped abruptly, however when he caught sight of its white swan feather fletching. He took another drink and set down his flagon.

Beneath his cloak, he loosened one of the three feathers, so that it hung by the merest thread upon the shaft. Then, picking up the mug, he returned to the line.

Handing his mug to Leoba, "Would you be so kind as to hold this for me?" he fitted the arrow to the bowstring, careful to pinch the loose fletching so that it appeared intact. He drew the string back to his cheek, and again, with tongue extended, bunched eyebrows and crossed eyes, Dirk feigned concentration. This time, however, he loosed the bolt apparently aiming directly at the target.

But immediately as the arrow flew from the bowstring, it lost a feather and flew erratically, swirling and curving and diving in a random pattern. To Dirk's astonishment and chagrin, it rose and curved at precisely the right moment as to strike the target solidly.

(OOC2: I call 1 please.)
Rest In Peace, Dirk. 2002-2013
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Sig Pic by Lynx

Guild Steward of the Mithril Knights
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Postby Frelga » Fri Dec 07, 2007 11:25 pm

As the results were announced, Frelga turned away with a shrug, "Well, it was fun... Wait. I what?" Reassured that she had, indeed, passed to the second round, the Rohan woman blinked her blue eyes a few times. Nerves of mithril indeed! She couldn't even keep her grin from reaching her ears. "Ah well, sometimes it's skill one needs, and other times it's just luck," she said.

The eliminated archer - surely a much better shot than Frelga - took his elimination with good grace. Of course, the stunningly pretty elf woman, and the plate of food she offered, might have been some help in consoling him.

At least, Rwhen did not try to abandon the ladies to thirst and hunger for very long.

"What is it with those elven ladies? Why are they so irresistible?," Canamarth asked Frelga, observing that the male contestants seemed quite taken with the Elf.

The Rohan woman shrugged. "They are pretty," she admitted. "Besides, they stay pretty for so long. They must become quite accomplished in their endless years."

Before another connoisseur of ageless beauty could step between her and a drink, Frelga waved to the serving Elf and asked for a glass of red wine. Just then she saw that Dirk had taken his shot. And what an amazing shot it was! How he made the arrow spin and dive, while it made its way to the target as true as the archer intended. Frelga could not restrain her admiration. "Oh, well done!" she cried, clapping her hands.

At last, she took her position for her second shot. This time, she took greater care in drawing and aiming. The arrow flew; Frelga stood still, following its flight with her eyes until she heard it strike target. Then she lowered her bow.

"Where is that wine?" she asked, smiling happily.

OOC: I'd like an 8, please
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Postby rwhen » Mon Dec 10, 2007 2:03 pm

Frelga, had just made an excellent shot and was looking around for her requested beverage. Striding confidently up to the contestant, Rwhen held out a goblet of silver which was filled with the rich red that this valley was so popular for.

"For you my Lady," Rwhen said, "and be certain that our hearing also becomes quite accomplished through the years." She winked at Frelga and decided to sit for a moment.

"You know, friend," Rwhen had a way of calling people that she wanted to impress 'friend' assuming that they were already comrades, "there is really nothing special about being an elf that would cause men to be fascinated. It is easy enough to perpetuate the myth that a younger appearance and older age mean advantages to that over being a mortal. But it sure is fun to keep them guessing, no?"

"I am sure I wouldn't know," Frelga laughed, "but anytime you would like to share some *cough* advantages of your wisdom, I am all ears."

Rwhen looked curiously at the mortals ears. "You are most certainly not all ears, friend and we shall see what we shall see." With that Rwhen literally floated off the chaise and made her way back to the station to gather more dainties for the contestants. She loaded her tray and headed back to Turin. "I believe you wanted some pudding and talk?"

Turin took the pudding with eyes wide. "Um, yeah, sure."

Rwhen sat in an intricate cross legged position on the fragrant grass in front of him. "So talk."
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Love is as big or as little as a hug!!

vison! Alex!Rowanberry!

I will always treasure and remember your appreciation. Thank you. -2007 WCA's
Overwhelmed by your support and appreciation. Thank you. - 2008 WCA's

The Expected Party!! is now on the road to Gondor to celebrate. Join us.

And getting into trouble with Rally The Eldar.

Time out of Mind, forever bound to my Knight Ayslhyn

Vanadarlin', my SSOTH - 143 forever :hug:
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Postby Leoba » Tue Dec 11, 2007 2:01 am

"I got a bullseye?! Flipping heck!"

"Ah, Leoba, excellent shot. Would you like a shot from the bar to hone your skill to perfection for the next round?" inquired the suave blonde waiter. He hovered around, hopping from one foot to the other, awaiting her reply.

"I just might, then, since you're so insistent. Have we got any sambuca?"

As Maradir trotted off to do her bidding, Leoba felt a mug of ale pressed into her hand, whilst Dirk took his second shot. She watched him very closely as he drew the arrow back towards his jawline and released.

"Here have your drink back" she said, leaning in closer to whisper: "are you sure you checked that arrow over properly before you used it, Dirk? Because that shot went all over the place."

"It's just seemingly not my day today", Dirk shrugged, taking back the cup and taking a long draught of ale.

Leoba then stepped up to the line once again to make her second attempt. She made a great show of checking the arrow shaft and flights for damage, before nocking it to her bow string and, aiming up just enough to go the distance, loosed the missile towards the target.




[OOC: sorry for the absence people. It's been a crazy few weeks: I've had a proper Angmarian cold virus (*looks suspiciously at a certain ex-wannabe-Lord-of-Angmar*) – it's still not totally shifted and totally sapping of all writing energies – plus I start a new job on promotion tomorrow so have been frantically trying to clear work. Don't even ask about Christmas shopping!!

Oh and SB: when did you last examine a proper arrow at close quarters? Those flights are glued and then bound tight on with linen thread: there's no way just one feather could be loosened without loosing them all! Besides which, a damaged arrow could be seriously dangerous – I hope Canamarth gives you a proper ticking off if she susses you. :roll:

Oh - nearly forgot - a 6 please]
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Postby Khorazir » Tue Dec 11, 2007 5:59 am

A little taken aback by the Elf's straightforwardness, but pleased all the same, Túrin tried a little of his pudding. It was very sweet, and contained quite a measure of something undefineable taste-wise, but clearly acoholic. It was excellent.

"Actually, dear lady," he said, "for now I'd be more interested in listening than talking. A mouth full of pudding doesn't make for good tales. Moreover, I daresay what you can tell is far more interesting than my story. What brings you here? Meeting an Elf is a rare occasion nowadays. Where do you hail from, and how did you end up in this place? "
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Postby Canamarth » Tue Dec 11, 2007 6:27 am

[OOC: Leoba, if you should be faster in posting than Scribbles - why don't you change your number to one noone else has picked so far. ;) For your convenience:
Maeglin - 6
Dirk - 1
Frelga - 8
Leoba - 6
SilverScribe -

You're starting a new job, Leoba? No more wonderful view on the Thames? What will you be doing? And get well soon! :hug:]

Canamarth would have done serious harm to Dirk, had she seen what he had done to his arrow. It was after all her who put up the colourfully illustrated placard with the worst archery accidents anyone could think of, after a night of drunk-shooting in which Lysandros had nearly lost an eye or two ("SAFETY FIRST!"). However, the Mistress Archer's attention was drawn to rwhen's and Frelga's conversation.
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Postby The,real,Maeglin » Wed Dec 12, 2007 11:33 am

[OOC, like Smaugsbane, my profile has changed several times aswell, i hope to be able to change the one in the description to fit the one i had in mind the past years better.
Leoba... :x , it is not "ex" and neither "wannabe" , i still want to and i will... :wink:

Just dropping in to write this but I will make some time soon to write some more. ]
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Postby Leoba » Wed Dec 12, 2007 12:56 pm

[OOC: sorry, how about 7?

Unfortunately I am losing the river view but am back near the shops - I was straight in Zara at lunchtime! - and in a really well designed building. I'll write about what I've let myself in for job-wise somewhere else. ;) ]
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Postby rwhen » Tue Dec 18, 2007 3:57 pm

<---------check out the name, Turin. I can give you a hint ... my father is Elrond and I live in a BEAUTIFUL home...well I used to until this handsome Ranger sorta asked me to marry him...I said yes, but you know us elves..we are ever fickle....HE went off on some long arsed adventure and I haven't seen him since...something about a ring and hobbits...Oh I don't know ...having too much fun to worry about it now..;)

*yawns*

WAKE UP YOU SLEEPY HEADS.....

*serves coffee double strong to all the contestants*

Geesh...I tell ya..
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Love is as big or as little as a hug!!

vison! Alex!Rowanberry!

I will always treasure and remember your appreciation. Thank you. -2007 WCA's
Overwhelmed by your support and appreciation. Thank you. - 2008 WCA's

The Expected Party!! is now on the road to Gondor to celebrate. Join us.

And getting into trouble with Rally The Eldar.

Time out of Mind, forever bound to my Knight Ayslhyn

Vanadarlin', my SSOTH - 143 forever :hug:
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Postby Menon » Fri Dec 21, 2007 4:20 pm

Meanwhile, in a seedy pub back in Dale...

Menon poked at the plate of fried potatoes in front of him and eyed the dregs of the ale at the bottom of his tankard. His purse was empty and he tried not to think how long it would be until his stomach was. He forced down another cold, fried potato at the thought. A palace guardsman, dressed in Dale Blue, strolled up to the bar, next to where he sat.

"Don't I know you?" The guardsman asked.

"No." Menon replied, pushing aside his plate and turning to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember you - you're that Rohirrim who rode with the Bowmen. I was there, at the palace, when you 'officially arrived' during the 'victory parade'. Remember, that was about a week after you snuck into town - I was there for that too - the whole lot of you were almost strung up as traitors..."

"You're confusing me with someone else." Menon growled.

"No, no I never forget a face. Hey, didn't the Dorwinion King adopt you or something...?"

Menon punched the man squarely in the face, pulled a coin from his purse and threw it on the counter to pay for his bill. He left, unimpeded, the way he liked it.

He collected his horse, heaved himself into the saddle and for some strange reason, rode in the direction of the Guildhouse - the last place he wanted to see...
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Postby Canamarth » Tue Dec 25, 2007 3:34 pm

OOCish: And I thought I was a terrible host for not being back at a PC earlier. Then I find out that the Scribe still hasn't chosen a number. :roll:
*pokes her with an arrow - the harmless side - for the moment*

Been busy with a big birthday and Christmas and hope to be back on a more regular basis in the new year. Which reminds me:

A Merry Christmas to the Merry Bowmen! How much merriment can we take?


While the Scribe got ready to fire (:P if that one doesn't hit the centre after such a long preparation time...), Canamarth went back into the guildhouse and saw that Oi had put up a few tasteful Winter Solstice decorations. She was tracing the shape of a straw star that hung in front of a window, when she saw someone riding up from Dale. Her finger stopped halfway along the star beam pointing East. Could it be...? She opened the door and ran down from the front porch.


Maeglin - 6
Dirk - 1
Frelga - 8
Leoba - 7
SilverScribe -
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Postby SilverScribe » Mon Dec 31, 2007 2:20 pm

((ooc: Gosh, sorry folks, I've been run ragged ever since my last post; between boarders, husband, work, cooking, cleaning, Christmas preps, WCA Committee stuffs and such, life has just been one exhausting long day after another . . . :blush:))

Scribbles, poked out of her looooooooong elvish reverie by Canamarth, jumped, blushed and pulled another arrow from her quiver. Mumbling several embarrassed apologies, she stepped to the mark, nocked, aimed and let her shot fly, then turned as the sound of distant hoofbeats distracted them all . . . ;)

I'll call a 4.

:D:D:D
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Postby Menon » Tue Jan 01, 2008 1:57 pm

In the archery field Menon could, of course, pick out the Scribe - that head of hair set her off like a beacon on the Belfalas coastline - and many faces he recognized, some he did not.

One face he could never forget came towards him, down from the newly fashioned Guild's front porch, the tattooed visage of the Mistress Archer himself.

"Hail, and well met, Mistress Archer!" Menon said, sliding off the saddle. "I was, ah, in the neighborhood and I, well... here I am."
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Postby Canamarth » Fri Jan 04, 2008 3:56 am

Before Menon reached the ground, Canamarth caught him in a tight embrace. "So wonderful to see you! We're having ourselves a little archery competition and I need to see who's through to the next round. I'll leave you to say hello to the rest of the people, most of whom you know already. Rwhen's in charge of refreshments for the gentlemen if you need anything. I'll be back soon and ready to hear all the latest news from your travels."

She took a few steps towards the targets, then turned back to embrace Menon again. "It's so good to have so many old faces back." With that she almost skipped away.

After a close scrutiny of the targets Canamarth whistled to get everyone's attention. Menon's unexpected appearance had caused a bit of a stir. "Oi, you! No, not you, Oi. The rest of the crowd. I have to announce the elimination of the next two contestants - Dirk and the Scribe. I suspect the latter over-concentrated while the other had an unfortunate accident with his arrow." She gave Dirk's arrow another suspicious glance then resumed her speech. "Closest to the mark was Frelga this time. Congratulations! I hereby open the next round."

[Yay, I rolled a 10. :D]
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Postby Canamarth » Tue Jan 08, 2008 8:56 am

I, uh, sort of... picked a ... VERY POLITE AND FRIENDLY (at least on my part) fight ... no, banter... with the Mithril Knights in here. :Q :evilaugh: :whistle:

Edit to say - I think everything's under control. :)
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Postby SmaugsBane » Tue Jan 08, 2008 8:11 pm

Not a fight. It actually sounds like a collusion to get the Bards to do all the work in gathering a bunch of beer, then when they aren't looking the MKs and MB's will sneak up and drink it.




IC:

Dirk fails miserably at containing his grin. He has to sidestep Leoba by several feet in order to avoid her low-swinging slap. Bowing to Frelga, Dirk returns to his lounge chair, receives a full mug of perfectly chilled frothy delight and orders a plate of sausages and mash.
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Postby SilverScribe » Tue Jan 08, 2008 9:33 pm

Menon wrote:. . . the tattooed visage of the Mistress Archer himself.


:lmbo: :lmbo:

Freudian slip there Menon, old buddy, old pal?

:D:D:D
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Postby Canamarth » Wed Jan 09, 2008 5:24 am

SilverScribe wrote:
Menon wrote:. . . the tattooed visage of the Mistress Archer himself.

Freudian slip there Menon, old buddy, old pal?


:shock: And I didn't even see that.

mumblemumblemumblemustbethenewcolognemumblemumble
mumblemumblemustgetsomefashiontipsfromdrieskemumblemumble

We'll definitely do that, SB. If the Bard's guild wins we'll raid their beer cellars together. Deal? By the way - do we have any bards in the house? Then forget what I just said.
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Postby Canamarth » Thu Jan 10, 2008 8:29 am

"Sausages and mash? Whoever for?" Canamarth inquired of Oi who was busy sizzling Nürnberger in the kitchen. "Forget about the sausages. I just received word that an entire Roman legion is heading this way. And possibly some Mithril Knights and bards... What are you doing, Oi? No, this is no time to whip out your crossbow. It's not an invasion. We're just going to make merry."

The Mistress Archer managed to jump out of the way of the crossbolt that was released as the weapon clattered to the floor. "Yeah, I know. You better hurry." She left the flustered dwarf to his work. He always came up with something. Canamarth suspected there was some sort of magic involved. But she never asked.
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Postby SmaugsBane » Sat Jan 12, 2008 10:19 pm

Canamarth wrote:We'll definitely do that, SB. If the Bard's guild wins we'll raid their beer cellars together. Deal? By the way - do we have any bards in the house? Then forget what I just said.



No worries, Canamarth. We Bards don't care Whose beer it is, or where it came from, so long as we get to drink it! Besides, you'll need the bards here to lead you to the beer cellars. Heck, they'll probably bring it over themselves if there's gonna be a party of the magnitude of which you speak. Perhaps we should just send an invite over to them?
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Postby Canamarth » Mon Jan 14, 2008 8:55 am

SB is everything all at once. :shock:
Bowmen, Bard and Mithril Knight. I'd get so confused. :D

But we'll sure as Mordor make merry with them all!
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Postby SmaugsBane » Mon Jan 14, 2008 5:37 pm

Canamarth wrote:SB is everything all at once. :shock:
Bowmen, Bard and Mithril Knight. I'd get so confused. :D

But we'll sure as Mordor make merry with them all!


Yep, I make sure my bread is buttered on all sides, as they say. I can act as liaison (or referee) if necessary between the groups.
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