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message 1: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (last edited May 26, 2012 11:28AM) (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Read before you make your character. All characters must conform to the following requirements, or the mods will suggest changes. If those changes are not responded to (either by justifying the original version or making the changes) the characters will not be accepted. Use proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation. Also, research before you create your character! Here's a quote from Mod Kayla on the subject: "I did some of the craziest things with my character that would seem almost like it wouldn't fit, but I did enough research to back up what I was doing. One thing that you should always try is to look for things that Tolkien didn't go into much detail about. Something that you know something of still - you can't just go off of nothing - but something that maybe wasn't as explored as the rest of it. For example, in my case, Morgoth's private life. Did he have a son? Yep, he did, is what I said, but I could say that because Tolkien never told us much about Morgoth in his fortresses."

I suggest submitting your character to the following “Mary Sue” test: http://www.ponylandpress.com/ms-test.... You may want to consider taking the suggestions offered upon submission, depending on your score.

2 character max, though one "main" character is preferable- talk to mods if you want to make more. Of course, more characters might enter the story as we go along, but it's hard enough to get everyone in one place to start with when there's only four or five characters total, and it gets far worse when there's seven or eight. Also, speaking from past experience, the fewer characters you're keeping track of, the more developed each will be, and the more defined, dynamic, and realistic the interactions between characters. After all, you want to avoid self-roleplay, which becomes increasingly hard when you have three or four characters in the same group.

REQUIRED CHARACTER FORMAT

Name: (Must be suitable to Middle Earth; cannot RP as an existing character of Middle Earth or a made-up close relative to one of the existing characters. For example, you cannot be Legolas’s daughter or Aragorn’s sister.)

Gender:

Age: (Approximations are permissible. According to Tolkien, Elves reach maturity at around age 50.)

Species: (Only species naturally occurring in Middle Earth; only a limited number of half-Elves may be made, because they are canonically VERY RARE- only three such pairings are recorded)

Appearance/Equipment: (A good 3 sentences, touching on build, height, hair color, eye color, favorite colors to wear or outfit, etc. Your character cannot bear one of the weapons of the Trilogy- for example, you cannot have Sting.)

Skills: (3+ sentences. Your character MUST have limitations of some sort; even a character who’s trained in most of the weapons and combat styles ever invented will not be equally good at all of them. If I or another mod feel you’re being unreasonable or godmoddish, we will speak to you about it.)

Personality: (4+ COHERENT sentences. Do not make your character self-contradictory. Explain apparent contradictions. A character cannot be both withdrawn and outgoing, but he may be withdrawn among fellow males and outgoing among females, for example. You may include “likes” and “dislikes.” Please try to distinguish your character in some way from the others. We cannot have every single character “shy until you get to know her, but really friendly and loyal.”)

History: (At least 5 sentences; more is preferable. Be plausible and canonical if possible. I give some leeway on this one if you justify yourself thoroughly. For example, in a previous roleplay we had a character who was the son of Morgoth. Kayla, his creator, carefully researched the possibility of such a thing and worked it into one of the grey areas of Tolkien's writing. She was able to make it plausible and handled the character well, so it was okay. If your character does something most members of his/her species does not (for example, a female dwarf with a penchant for adventuring) you must explain why. However, your character cannot contradict anything Tolkien specifically states. He or she CANNOT be the tenth member of the Fellowship of the Ring, for example.)

Other: (Anything else. Pets, other than a horse, are discouraged.)

All decisions by mods are final. Decisions are subject to the whimsy of the mods.




message 2: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Approved! Huzzah!
Frèla: Baruk khazad!


message 3: by K. M. R., or Quirenas, the Cloudy One (With Lightning) (last edited Mar 22, 2012 06:41PM) (new)

K. M. R. (moisoha) | 728 comments Mod
Epic Characters! Alright, mine should be in soon, but I'm looking for a good picture. Maybe I'll end up drawing one. :)


message 4: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Same here... Finding pictures is a bugger. Brilliant job at locating some... Quite impressive!


message 5: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (last edited Mar 24, 2012 09:27AM) (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Good start, Isaac! I didn't know you were going to join the roleplay. Out of curiosity, have you done much roleplaying before, or are you fairly new to it?

Your character does meet all requirements, though I would appreciate seeing a bit more detail on his early history. What was his position in the tribe? What was the dwarf who would "lead his people to ruin" doing? Does he have parents; if not, what happened to them? Does he know if he's actually being pursued by his crime, and has the intense guilt that's kept him hiding for many decades changed him in any way? And that sort of thing. Of course I'm sure he'll develop as he finds his place in the story, but those are things to think about.

Oh- one other thing. I would advise ditching the mithril chain mail. Such a thing would be rare, and of greatest value, suited to a high dwarven prince of old, and not likely to be found in the Iron Hills. The one Frodo wore he got from Bilbo, who in turn got it from Thorin (I believe), who found it in the dragon horde of Smaug. Not the sort of thing most dwarves would have. Unless you've got a really good explanation...


message 6: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (last edited Mar 24, 2012 09:35AM) (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Name:Fréla Steelsmith

Gender: Female

Age: She's lost track. She's no longer young, perhaps ninety and certainly solidly middle-aged, though she's vigorous and youthful at heart.

Species: Dwarf

Appearance/equipment She has heavy eyebrows, a squarish face, and a strong chin sprouting a thick beard. Said beard has two narrow braids, descending from her lower lip and tipped with emerald-studded golden beads, and reaches to about the base of her neck. Her dark hair has a slight reddish-gold tint. Eyes of fierce green-gold shine from beneath her eyebrows, contrasting with her tan, wind-chapped skin. Rosy cheeks almost obscure her eyes whenever she smiles- which is often. Her hands are large and work-hardened. She moves with short brisk strides, as befits her short, stocky, and powerfully muscled form. Her thick dwarvish accent grows even more incomprehensible the more ale or mead she drinks.

Wears a slightly travel-worn dark red cloak with gold trimmings, heavy chainmail (“Me da forged it fer me ‘isself,” she informs me for the hundredth time, swiping with stubby fingers at the tear trickling down her cheek) a red undertunic, brown leggings, sturdy but battered leather hobnail boots, and a belt with a buckle bearing her family crest, this being a smith’s hammer and an axe with crossed shafts. She carries a one-handed axe.

Of course, her back is slightly under the weight of her prodigious leather pack. The trade of blacksmith necessitates hauling certain specialized equipment, though she doesn’t carry (for example) an anvil or a forge. She does, however, carry a couple of hammers, a fuller, a selection of chisels and punches (neatly arranged in a leather case). Fréla is never short of a tinderbox, wire for snares, and a hidden stash of peppermint drops. Doesn't smoke, but carries tobacco anyway. A bedroll of thick blankets and a pair of large canteens tops it all off.

Her main weapon is partially of her own make, a short javelin with an oak haft and broad steel blades on both ends. It can be used for either throwing or hand-to-hand combat, in which it is used like a staff.

“Interestin’ story behoind this,” she says. “Well, Oi wors goin’ ter foind me da a gemstone ‘r two fer to put in a pommel- ‘e’d been commissioned ter make an axe fer some warlord, ye see, and ‘e always sez if yer wants a good gemstone, ye’d best foind it fer yerself- down in t’ moines. I’d garn inter the abandoned bit, way off ter the north, down in t’ lower levels, worr it weren’t so badly moined out, and Oi unexpecterdly found meself surround’d boi noight garblins- Goblins, yer know, pardon me arccent. Oi hardn’t realoized they’d crept so far inter the moines, so all Oi hard wiv me worr my pick ‘n moi axe.Oi managed ter keep ‘em arf, troid ter retreat inter the safer bits of ther moine, and Oi gart orf goin’ ther wrong way. Oi ended oop somewhere’s Oi’d never been, a burial chamber, Oi’m think’n. Worl, t’was all dark, no torches or suchloik, but moi own loight glittered off some metal. Oi thart it worr an axe- n’ since boi this toime Oi’d left me pick in the skull of some garblin, and worr down to moi one-’anded axe, Oi thart t’would be a good oidea to use it. So Oi bashed a few garblins art’r the way, n’ grabbed it oop- only t’weren’t an axe, t’was a jarvelin- two-ended one, art that. Wood worr so rotted it broke right in harf in me ‘and, but blades worr still broight as starshine. Apparn’tly, the garblin’s’d been ‘ere before, ‘r had a narsty run in wiv the wielder of the weap’n, for they worr so afrighted they took and roon roight then ‘n there. Couldn’t harv caught oop with them an’ Oi warnted!” Here she guffaws enormously, knocking over her mug of ale. The end to this rambling tale is she brought the blades home, fitted them to a sturdy wire-bound oaken haft, and has been bearing it ever since. Something about the brightly shining metal seems to put fear into the hearts of goblins and Orc alike, though the weapon has no particular affect on other fell species.

Skills: To Mandos with strategy- this dwarf depends on her powerful melee abilities in fighting. Her style, like all the rest of her, is straight-forward and no-frills, depending more on strength and skill than brains. Specifically, she is proficient in axe, javelin, and staff, though she particularly favors the latter two. She is not fast, but her strength is easily that of a male dwarf. Used to wielding a hammer or pickaxe when smithying or mining, her endurance is superb. Though tracking and other outdoors skills are limited, her quick fingers are wonderful at setting snares.

Personality: Stubborn and independent, but overall quite cheerful, in a robust, rather masculine way. A bit gruff; never one to express her inner emotions, save those concerning her “dear ol’ da.” Thoroughly uninterested in male dwarves, as quite a few female dwarves are. This is quite a pity, actually, because her rosy cheeks and hale appearance had attracted the eyes of several fellows. Fighting is, for her, a fact of life, enjoyable but not nearly so pleasant as, say, mining out a hunk of metal, forging a good Dwarvish axe, or going wandering. She has deep sympathy with people in pain or need, and willing goes out of her way to help anyone who needs it.

Backstory:

Born in TA 2932 to Frèra and Dormund Steelsmith of Daín Ironfoot's clan. They were among the families to move from the Iron Hills to the Lonely Mountain after the defeat of Smaug. Perhaps it was this early exposure to the outside world (so uncommon among female dwarves) that gave Frèla a love for adventure, or perhaps it is simply inherent to her nature. As to the circumstances surrounding her meanderings in Middle Earth...

“Oi, well now, moin ‘tis nort a harppy story,” says Frèla soberly, as she sighs expansively and props her boots up on my table. I also sigh, but for a rather different reason- mostly to mask the grin on my face. Frèla’s finished her first and second pints, and has started in on her third, so she’s not exactly tipsy, merely more emotive than usual. She then goes on to relate a tale that is at least twice as long as the one about where she acquired her weapon. I’ve heard most of it already, too. I think I must summarize it, or I’ll be sitting here all night.

Frèla was her parents’ only child, her father’s pride and joy, and her mother’s constant source of annoyance. Most female dwarves are the home-making type, hardly ever venturing above ground or doing anything even remotely resembling adventuring. Not so Frèla. She stuck at her father’s side like a warrior’s battleaxe, becoming his apprentice at his forge and learning from him the finer points of battle. “Ye’ve got the strength of meself, but with a lady’s delicate touch,” he’d say to her, as he inspected her latest piece of ironwork. “Oi’m roight proud of ye.” She could heat a metal to the ideal temperature for pounding out and working, but roasting a side of meat was far beyond her. She could kill a dozen goblins, blindfolded, but her mother never could teach her to fold a tablecloth. The fine arts of womanhood seemed quite beyond her reach, and eventually her mother seemed to have given up- which was fine by Frèla. She attained a reputation for herself as a smith and a warrior, even opening a business directly adjacent to her father’s. All went well until Frèla reached full womanhood. Her mother began watching her more keenly, as if expecting a softening, perhaps a tendency toward dreamy thoughts of marriage- indeed, her mother could hardly wait to marry Frèla off to some unfortunate, unpicky fellow. She was sorely disappointed.

A climax was reached a good ten years later, in 2989. Frèla and her family had just finished downing the last meal of the day, her father had stretched out his legs and let loose an expansive burp, and Frèla was about to imitate him when her mother spoke.

“I’ve ‘ad enough, I ‘ave!” she said, in her voice which always seemed unpleasantly shrill for a dwarf.

Frèla and her father glanced helplessly at each other.

“Ye’ve been running wild far to long, Frèla Thrimbul’s daughter. Naow- ye can’t deny ye’ve caught a few eyes of late. One of them pairs of eyes happened to belong to an only son of a VERY RICH clan patriarch,” she said, laying a heavy emphasis on the words “very rich.” “Oi and yer father ‘ave decided that ye will marry ‘im.”

“Hoi! Oi never-” began Thrimbul.

“Hald your tongue, husband!” her mother said sharply. “It must needs happen.”

But Frèla thought otherwise, rather strongly. That very night, she went to Balin and prevailed upon him to include her in his attempt to recolonize Moria. He ultimately decided that it was simply too dangerous for a woman- but she was welcome, of course, to join them once the colony had been well established. Stymied, she decided that whatever else she wouldn’t be staying in Erebor any longer. She bid her father the fondest of farewells, gathered what armor and weaponry she could carry, and left home, with the full intent of never returning. “Oi think me dear ol’ da’ understood,” she confides. “But Oi doubt if me mum’s ever forgiven me.”

The above-ground world was a place of wonder and beauty to the the dwarf. Such colors as could not be found in the brightest of gems! Such marvels of complexity and beauty, which could hardly be wrought into metal by the most skilled dwarf alive (“That’d be me da, of course,” she clarifies proudly), grew in profuse abundance. She meandered down the mountain to Laketown, where she spent the night in relative discomfort, without the security of a substantial ceiling of rock and earth above her. She decided it would be best to head to the Iron Hills, and tacked herself onto a group of dwarfs heading that way. After all, if a female dwarf must travel, it would be best to do it with other dwarves. “Norn of us were ‘specting the hel-blasted Garblins wot attacked us...” A brief adventure ensued, which perhaps Frèla could be prevailed upon to relate some other time. In the process she discovered two things: first, that she would rather not go to the Iron Hills after all, and second, that she had an innate taste for adventure. To be concise (for, no matter what dear Frèla says, this story has gone on far too long already) she ended up a wandering tinker of a superior sort, taking commissions for the making and mending of weapons instead of repairing pots and pans. Her name preceded her somewhat, thanks to the reputation she’d already gained in Erebor.

The great year of 3017 found her far to the South in Minas Tirith, helping plenish the weapon stores with good sturdy weapons (“At a very good proice, Oi moight add,” she says modestly). Though she won no particular renown, she was indeed a participant in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. This was the extent of her direct involvement in the War of the Ring. After the happy conclusion of that war, she found herself meandering north again along the great river Anduin, back to the home of her youth. It was in Laketown that she first encountered young Kibil, the north-woman escaping an unwanted engagement.

“Aye, she remoinds me of me, back when Oi forst left home...” she rumbles, slightly maudlin now. Twiddling a finger in her beard, she adds meditatively, “‘Course, she can’t foight... or moin t’ earth... or do much o’ anything. But shor I wasn’t ‘bourt t’ leave ‘er there.”

She’s taken the girl under her protection for the time being, and hopes to find a good place for her to live sometime in the near future. As for now... “Porharps she’ll turn out to ‘ave an’idden talent in metalworkin’, hm?” the dwarf says, hopefully, and then drifts comfortably off to sleep. She can just stay there in the kitchen for now, as far as I’m concerned- I’m not about to carry her up the stairs and tuck her into bed.

Other: If you’re reading this, I congratulate you for your endurance.


message 7: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
:D Thank you, Thera! I think she's my favorite character I've ever created. I'm excited to bring her out of the cellar.

Frèla: It be a MARGICAL cellar, aye- Oi've tried moining out, n' it be no good.

Me: It's not a literal cellar, my dear dwarf.

Frèla: Oh, and Oi suppose ye only say thart a'cause you've never been there.


message 8: by Hannah (last edited Jun 03, 2012 05:42PM) (new)

Hannah (danceswithelves) *{Name}*: Rusvcoia "Rusca" Cúnim (basic translation of "no one" and "whitebow" respectively)

*{Gender}*: Female

*{Age}*: 119 years as of T.A. 3018 (born in the spring of T.A. 2899)

*{Species}*: Wood-elf of Mirkwood/Eryn Galen

*{Appearance/Equipment}*: Rusvcoia is about 5'9" with dark chestnut tresses reaching to the middle of her back (though are more oft than not braided along the edge of her scalp and down over her right shoulder) and smokey emerald eyes with flecks of brown and gold. Her physique is one of a finely-toned warrior; she is slender and wiry, as well as lithe and precise. Her choice colors concerning attire are olive green, Ranger green (more of a green-brown mixture depending on the material dyed), and earth brown (though she more oft than not wears greys, blacks, and/or severely muted greens); her outfit consists of a light-spun grey undershirt, a dark brown leather jerkin, fingerless gloves made of worn leather, tightly-knit long dark grey trousers, weathered black boots, and a once vibrant yet now faded olive green hooded cloak held together by a simple steel clasp at her throat. Her weapons include a Mirkwood longbow made of dark yew wood and strung with a cord made of her own hair (a modification when the first snapped due to over-exertion and improper care) complete with a quiver of steel-tipped arrows - the shafts made of yew and the flights constructed of turkey feathers trimmed diagonally and dyed brown; a small Elvish dagger with a steel blade engraved with bronze scrollwork and a dark yew wood handle roughly a foot in length; and a three-and-a-half foot sword which belonged to her warrior brother Lieutenant Haeron Tadmegil. Because the blade was made for a member of military hierarchy, it looks out of place on the hip of a grimy Ranger. Its glided handgrip is wrapped with leather to hide the decorative design, yet the exotic embellishments of ivy leaves and vines on the blade are plain to see.

*{Skills}*: Rusca's main talents lie in archery. While she can hold her own quite well in CQC (Close Quarter Combat), she truly excels in the art of the bow. She aspires to be as adept as her brother's role model - Legolas Greenleaf. Her melee abilities are commendable and even remarkable, though she deals the most damage from afar; she prefers to weaken the opponent in such a fashion first before diving into the action with blades swinging.

*{Personality}*: Rusca once was very social and bubbly, but after certain events in her most recent past (see *{History}* for further details), she has become rather brusque and stoic in nature. She exudes an air of distrust and emotional deadness, and her speech is oft quick and biting, depending on her mood (which is not very light anymore). In moments of sorrow or pain, she appears to become more relaxed and even remotely sympathetic, but those moments are few and far between. Generally speaking, she strives to show no feelings that could be deemed as weak (e.g. outward sorrow, tenderness, gentility, meekness, compassion, etc.) and primarily displays a caustic, quick-witted, chilled mien. (In short...she is the opposite of "friendly and loyal"...though she is loyal...but you don't know that yet. *shifty eyes*)

*{History}*: The history of an Elf is very difficult to expound upon in detail due to their lengthy existences. However, because of Rusca's fairly young age (in comparison to the hundreds and thousands of years of her kindred), her tale is easier to describe.

Rusvcoia's true name is actually Alassë, which means "joy" in Sindarin. Indeed, she was the epitome of joy: laughter ever in her eyes, a happy thought always on her mind, and a spring in her step wherever she went. She danced rather than walked, and she sang instead of spoke. Her presence brought smiles to those in the vicinity...to all except one.

Her father, General Beinion Moritenechorio ("Handsome" and "Darkshields" respectively) was a very prestigious warrior in the Elvenking's army. His skills in strategizing and other military tactics made him an invaluable asset of King Thranduil's military hierarchy. Although his outward appearance was genial and fatherly, his true nature was cruel, sadistic, and devious. When at home with his wife Naerdiel ("Lady of Sorrows") and his children Haeron ("Aloof") and Alassë, he proved to be a ruthless dictator of his household. He disrespected and abused his wife, showed open hatred towards his son Haeron, and treated Alassë as though she were naught but an irritating pup nipping at his heels. Despite all this, Alassë's care-free demeanor never faltered, though in her heart, the sting of rejection was beginning to take hold. Haeron, her elder by four hundred and sixty-seven years, did his best to protect and love her as best he knew how, but even his best efforts failed in the face of his father's brutality.

When Alassë was thirty-seven years, Haeron thought it best to instruct her in the way of the warrior. He implored her to keep this a secret from all, explaining that it would be to their detriment if the wrong people found out about it. In the beginning, the She-Elf and her lieutenant brother spent hours each night practicing the basics, such as fencing and rudimentary archery. When she rather quickly mastered these, Haeron pursued the intricacies of each skill, teaching her duel-wielding, mounted archery, psychological warfare, and what we would call basic martial arts. For twenty years, brother taught sister and fine-tuned her talents until she began to rival him.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end - although this end is more unfortunate than most. Beinion found out about their secret training and his rage was legendary. What Alassë did not know was that her brother had decided to train her to know how to protect herself against her father, for he excelled in preying upon the weak and naive. Beinion and Haeron immediately began a long, drawn out argument that resulted in a vicious duel in the siblings' clandestine training grounds. It was there that Alassë witnessed the murder of Lieutenant Haeron Tadmegil at the hand of her enraged father.

Abruptly calm, Beinion removed the sword from his son's quivering body and turned to his daughter, his eyes sparking with wrath. In a fit of chilled anger, he began chasing Alassë through the woods in an attempt to kill her as well so that his heinous crime could not be learned of. She managed to pick up a bow and quiver hidden in the treetops (Haeron had been prepared for almost every situation) and commenced to waylay her mentally depraved father. Once she had succeeded in misleading, Alassë hurried back to Haeron's body and took his sword, bow, quiver, and dagger from him. With a tearful whimper, she bade goodbye to her fallen brother and disappeared into the woods.

She fled to the sanctuary of Imladris, where she remained in hiding for nearly two years. She took on the name Gweria ("Betrayed") and dwelt as a traveling scholar. It was there that she met Lord Aragorn, under the guise of Estel; when he prepared to depart in order to assume his role as the leader of the Dúnedain of the North, she asked if she could become an honorary Ranger in the same fashion of Lord Elrond's sons Elladan and Elrohir: traveling and scouting for the Rangers and fighting in their name. Aragorn granted her request and they journeyed together to the emcampment of the Rangers. There, she took on yet another name - one more fitting for her situation: Rusvcoia, meaning "no one". She also chose an alias - "Rusca" - for cultured settings (e.g. the Shire, Bree, etc.) and a professional name - "Cúnim" ("Whitebow") - for business dealings outside of the Rangers.

Since then, she has traveled Middle-earth for the cause of freedom, protecting the innocent and slaying all evil that threatened their borders.

*{Other}*: Rusca has a bay horse she named "Revion" ("Wanderer") in memory of Haeron, who affected that alias when he went traveling abroad for the Elvenking.

((I now leave this lengthy character description in the capable hands of my fellow mods. :D))


message 9: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
As to Hannah's character- unequivocally approved, and splendidly done! Sorry I didn't see it sooner. :P


message 10: by Hannah (new)

Hannah (danceswithelves) Nah you're good, dearie. :) Glad you like the modifications; hope they meet your requirements. Is there aught that needs amending further (e.g. likes and dislikes, more clarification about x, y, or z, etc.)?


message 11: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Likes and dislikes are optional. Some like to include them. The stringent guidelines are mostly there to assist those that are new to the group- to communicate the higher quality we expect.


message 12: by Hannah (new)

Hannah (danceswithelves) Ahhh okay. I didn't know if there was anything in particular you were looking for in regards to my character. Just lemme know if you have any questions. ;)


message 13: by K. M. R., or Quirenas, the Cloudy One (With Lightning) (last edited May 21, 2012 10:05PM) (new)

K. M. R. (moisoha) | 728 comments Mod
This is me speaking.
And this is Kibil!

Name: Káta of Laketown

Though generally I go by Kibil.

Gender: Female

Age: Fifteen Summers

Species: Man

Specifically Northmen.

Appearance:

http://th03.deviantart.net/fs71/300W/...

Kibil has really long red hair that goes to about mid-waist, but she doesn’t like to let it hand down much because it gets tangled in all the branches and bushes she and Fréla tramp through on a daily basis. Usually she pulls it back into a tight bun with some braids or something of the like.

Plain buns don’t look very nice at all!

Her eyes are a light brown that can turn either gold or dark brown depending on the sun’s positon in relation to her.

She stands at five feet, seven inches, and leans toward a slender shape. Most of the time she wears green now, or brown, but on the occasion she likes to put her hair in a ribbon.

I consider my face really small, and it can be a bit irritating at times. It makes the rest of my body look so overlarge, and it makes me uncomfortable. My father tells me that I’ll probably forget about that as I get older, but I honestly doubt I will. It’s such and important thing to me. It doesn’t help that I am roughly the size of a large bush, which makes me feel even worse when I tower over other, more normal sized women. Of course the height also makes me look underfed, and weak – despite the fact that I am weak, I don’t like how my height accentuates it.

Equipment:
She doesn’t usually carry much around with her, but she can when she needs to. Most of the time she carries food and cooking utensils, along with a few hair ribbons, two spare dresses, a small sewing kit, and a small sword that Fréla lent to her so that she wouldn’t be as completely useless as she still is. (It has never left its sheath since she gave it to me. I’ve never touched a sword before and I feel as though I would likely skewer myself before anything else.) She also cares a small treasure box that she has never opened in front of anyone else, and keeps it very secret.

Skills: (I’m going to let Kibil explain… because she says it in a much funnier way than I can.)

Oh! I have plenty of skills. I can sing and dance to many songs that I learned from my mother. I can clean well, and have learned to clean anything that might need it. Something about being alone in nature with a batch of clothes just makes me feel at ease. Cooking is also a skill of mine, though I never have cooked on a fire before. It’s a bit different, but I just have to be more careful, that’s all.

Ah… so many “skills”. Now, as for more useful skills for her situation, Kibil pretty much has no combat skills. She speaks a little dwarvish, but only general small talk, and nothing more. That’s pretty much it for her skills.

Personality:

Just for fun: she’s friendly and loyal. :D However, she is not shy, she is very warm and friendly equally to everyone – even those that are obviously evil. She tries to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, which can often get her into the strangest situations. She usually isn’t stubborn at all, and will do things for other people no matter what it does to her. She is a hopeless romantic and will often stare out into space and daydream about romance.

Obviously… I have nothing to say to that. I haven’t the slightest idea what one would say to that…

History: (Once again, another Kibil explained story. She just says it better.)

My father was a warrior for our tribe in the north for most of his life, and with all the wars that he fought against other tribes, he came to be very sick of war and fighting. So much so that in the middle of a war, during a sort of “calm before the storm” period, of course, since he wouldn’t abandon his tribe in a battle, he took my mother and they fled to the lands to the south. They ended up in the Dale lands, a short distance from Laketown. At the time they were fairly at peace as well, and my father decided to settle down there. That was where my mother gave birth to me.
Mother says I was her beautiful little girl and she loved me no matter what I did. Father says as soon as I could move around I was the terror of the town, though most couldn’t scold me because I would make an adorable face and they would forget why they were angry. Twice I got in fights with the other children. Three times I nearly wandered off into the forest – one of those times before I could even walk. Father says it’s because of my hair. Mother says that’s my father in me.
When I was little, my father made friends with one of the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and he used to come by and visit all the time. Mother has told me his name many times, but I can’t remember him, and I often forget. Father has told me many stories about him, and how he started Father in the merchanting business and taught father how to speak their language. He was the one who gave me the nickname Kibil, saying that I was like silver in many ways. I was strong, and relatively fearless, but I could still be bent and twisted by others that I cared about. He also used to say that I was quick to get angry and heat up, but even with that I could withstand extreme environments. Of course, I honestly don’t know what he saw that made him say that, but the name stuck, and I haven’t used my given name in a long time, though my mother still calls me by it.
My childhood other than that was fairly uneventful from what I remember. Father didn’t like me to go outside of the complex that he had had built for my mother and me, and he most certainly never let weapons inside. Father didn’t want me to have anything to do with war or fighting, and for the longest time I had no idea what it was. It wasn’t until I was a bit older, though still a few years younger than I am now. He was very careful about monitoring my learning.
Papa Abjorn changed that.
Papa Abjorn was one of my tutors, but he was always my favorite. Papa Abjorn looked a lot like the other tutors, an old man who spoke in a scratchy voice and could command attention with a simple look. However, Papa Abjorn was very different. While the others stuck strictly to learning, Papa Abjorn used to tell me stories in our spare time. Stories of older times, and of times long ago. Most of them included a young heroine, and a hero that saved her. I loved those stories, and I used to sit still for hours listening to story after story. Eventually, however, Father learned of what Papa Abjorn was teaching me and I didn’t see the old man again. It was not a very pleasant feeling.
When I was twelve years old, Mother finally convinced Father that I needed to be let out of the complex. Mother took me herself, carefully, out into the forest into a little meadow in the forest. That meadow became my meadow, and I would often ask to go there. Sometimes I caught sight of the guards Father put in charge of watching me there, but they were very careful not to be seen, so that they could openly carry weapons.
It was in that meadow that he found me, and it wasn’t the most pleasant experience even then. I’m not sure where he came from, nor do I remember his name, at least I don’t want to. He wasn’t bad at first, just a bit strange.
He was several years older than me and quite rich. I never cared to find out where he got his money, but later I speculated that he likely was some sort of bandit. Still, Father liked him, and Mother agreed that he would take good care of me with all that money. Still, as he began to follow me everywhere, I began to get a little scared of him. I had heard him shout and yell at servants and guards for not doing things right, and it made me afraid of what might happen.
Not only that, but when Father announced that I was to marry him, all I could feel were chills. I refused to leave my room for a week, at least he wasn’t allowed in there. He was nothing like the warrior I had heard about in the old stories that Papa Abjorn had told me. I admit that I was always wishing for some adventurer to come and sweep me off my feet, and to have this man take that away from me, I was scared.
It was the day that I snuck into my meadow that I decided it needed to stop. I refused to accept him for a husband, and I decided that I would leave. I snuck back to the house, took some money from Father’s money drawer, left a note as an apology for Mother, and then left with only a small bag that I owned with the money.
Of course, I knew nothing of how to use the stuff, and it was attempting to figure it out in Laketown that I first met Fréla. She took me in after hearing my story, and agreed to let me travel with her. She’s been better to me than I might have expected, though I do expect that the money I gave her was probably a large factor.


Other: Nothing currently apparent.


So Hah! Done!


message 14: by Hannah (last edited May 22, 2012 04:43PM) (new)

Hannah (danceswithelves) You have my vote, Kayla! Very well done. :) Like her already. Though...can't speak on behalf of me Elf. *Sighs heavily as said Elf rolls eyes and slinks back further in her chair, eyeing the bouncy Northern suspiciously*


message 15: by Ada, AKA Caladhiel of Eregion (new)

Ada (caladhieledhel-mellon) | 861 comments Mod
Frèla: You'll have ter go through me first, Tristor... **Hefts javelin imposingly** Oi'm responsible fer the lass, at least fer now.

Me: Grand job, Kayla! Glad you were able to squeeze her out of you forehead (a la Zeus). Approved on my part.


message 16: by K. M. R., or Quirenas, the Cloudy One (With Lightning) (new)

K. M. R. (moisoha) | 728 comments Mod
Whoo-hoo!! I finally realized that when I was writing her character she did nothing so I let her write it. It's actually pretty entertaining...


message 17: by Cece (new)

Cece I am finally done. I think everything is okay back-story-wise as long as elves can die in labor.


Name: Eleniel

Gender: Female

Age: Around 65

Species: Silvan Elf who lives in Mirkwood

Appearance/Equipment: Eleniel is fairly tall for an elf but, she doesn't seem to be that tall when you look at her. Here eyes are a very deep blue and she has long brown eyelashes. Eleniel has mid back length, wavy, brown hair, that she always keeps in a braid. Eleniel likes to wear different shades of blue, brown, and grey; she has dirty brown boots that she always wears and a grey cloak. Her weapons consist of an oak longbow, a sheath of grey arrows with brown feathers for the fletching, and 2 curved iron knives with Elven runes etched into them.

Skills: Eleniel is good at knife throwing and fighting with knives, but her best skill in a fight is her bow. She is good at tracking animals, but can get a little confused when tracking people. She works excellent with horses and rides anywhere she can. Eleniel is good at hunting ground animals, like deer , but when it comes to hunting birds- she is terrible. Eleniel speaks the common tongue and Elvish( her best is Sindarin). Eleniel loves music and is very talented at singing and composing her own songs.

Personality: Eleniel is a soft-spoken elf, but she makes up for her lack of words in her actions. She is almost constantly doing something: helping people, fighting, riding, reading, etc. She is very protective of her horse, Calanon, and her belongings (meaning if you go through her stuff she will hurt you). Her most precious belonging is a small, blue leather journal that she writes ideas for songs in as she goes on her journeys. She is a very curious elf, always inspecting things and asking questions, which can make her seem really annoying from the point of others. Eleniel may look from the outside like a busy-body but when she focuses she is very calm and collected.

History: Eleniel has a very foggy and possibly confusing history. Her mother , a Silvan Elf, apparently died while giving birth to her only child(Eleniel). Her father, also a Silvan Elf, raised Eleniel with the help of the Dunedian( she and her father moved after Eleniel's mother's death because her father was to overcome with grief to live in Mirkwood anymore) who taught her to track animals, hunt, and use a sword. Eleniel's father taught her how to shoot a bow, read, write, and how to throw knives. Eleniel like writing best and soon she was writing song lyrics and composing music that she would sing. By 30, Eleniel was making a living for herself and her father( he was a trader so he was making money too). Once she was singing for a wedding in Edoras when she received word that her father had died a fight while on his way home from trading in Gondor. She was grieved so much by the loss of her father that she stayed in Edoras for 20 years. In that time she became an expert rider and she learned to love horses, she bought her horse (Calanon) during that time period. By now she had become immensely curious about who her mother really was, not just a figment of her father's memory and her imagination, so she left Edoras and went to Mirkwood; where her parents had lived and where she was born.

Other: None at the moment


message 18: by Hannah (last edited Jun 02, 2012 02:44PM) (new)

Hannah (danceswithelves) Okay, Cece...I just realized that you posted your character, so I shall give thee my group mod's critique. *ominous music*

I like the name, the age, and the skill set. Would like to know why she finds it harder to track people as opposed to animals (just because I can't personally figure out why). In regards to the personality paragraph, I do have a few questions. How is it that she's "soft-spoken" and yet simultaneously "...a very curious elf, always inspecting things and asking questions, which can make her seem really annoying from the point of others..."? Those two traits seem to clash because the former implies that she's quiet and more of a doer than a talker...but the second says that she's more of a talker than you originally stated. Just curious...

She was co-raised by the Dúnedain: okay, I like that, but where was this Dúnedain encampment? Whom did her father know well enough that he could pull up stakes and march off to this Dúnedain establishment and be accepted? How did he know him/her and what's the (brief) backstory on that? Also, "...By 30, Eleniel was making a living for herself and her father( he was a trader so he was making money too)..." They clearly moved since Dúnedain didn't interact with others for fear of being discovered by Sauron's servants and thus annihilated. So where did they move to? What was her living? What was her father a trader of that extended to the reaches of Gondor? A side note: do you recall Eomer's reaction to Lady Galadriel in Book III, part 1 of "The Two Towers"? Upon examining his words, I would say with nearly absolute certainty that the Rohirrim had no interaction with Elves and if they saw one, they'd be as a superstitious people are with a potential witch. Thus...for Eleniel to be in Rohan singing at a wedding and then spending a score of years with them...is highly unlikely.

That's my two cents worth (plus like an extra 26 cents :P)


message 19: by Cece (new)

Cece Oh okay. I can fix that but it may be a little while because I am in the heat of final exams right now. Thanks for the feedback.


message 20: by Hannah (new)

Hannah (danceswithelves) My pleasure. :) I do hope I'm not coming off as snobbish or know-it-all...just some personal questions concerning your character and advice on how to further better your character. Can't wait to meet her! :)


message 21: by Cece (new)

Cece No not at all! It's fine, I'll fix her later. Thanks! She can't wait to be met.


message 22: by Cece (new)

Cece Okay,I think that I added all the extra information to help everyone make more sense out of my character.

Name: Eleniel

Gender: Female

Age: Around 65

Species: Silvan Elf who lives in Mirkwood

Appearance/Equipment: Eleniel is fairly tall for an elf but, she doesn't seem to be that tall when you look at her. Here eyes are a very deep blue and she has long brown eyelashes. Eleniel has mid back length, wavy, brown hair, that she always keeps in a braid. Eleniel likes to wear different shades of blue, brown, and grey; she has dirty brown boots that she always wears and a grey cloak. Her weapons consist of an oak longbow, a sheath of grey arrows with brown feathers for the fletching, and 2 curved iron knives with Elven runes etched into them.

Skills: Eleniel is good at knife throwing and fighting with knives, but her best skill in a fight is her bow. She is good at tracking animals, but can get a little confused when tracking people because of her lack of experience with tracking people. She works excellent with horses and rides anywhere she can. Eleniel is good at hunting ground animals, like deer , but when it comes to hunting birds- she is terrible. Eleniel speaks the common tongue and Elvish( her best is Sindarin). Eleniel loves music and is very talented at singing and composing her own songs.

Personality: Eleniel is a soft-spoken elf, but she makes up for her lack of words in her actions. She is almost constantly doing something: helping people, fighting, riding, reading, etc. She is very protective of her horse, Calanon, and her belongings (meaning if you go through her stuff she will hurt you). Her most precious belonging is a small, blue leather journal that she writes ideas for songs in as she goes on her journeys. She is a very curious elf, always inspecting things , which can make her seem really annoying from the point of others. Eleniel may look from the outside like a busy-body but when she focuses she is very calm and collected.

History: Eleniel has a very foggy history. Her mother , a Silvan Elf, apparently died while giving birth to her only child(Eleniel). Her father, also a Silvan Elf, raised Eleniel with the help of the Dunedian who live in ( she and her father moved after Eleniel's mother's death because her father was to overcome with grief to live in Mirkwood anymore. Eleniel's father had a 2nd cousin who was a half-elf , whose mother was a member of the Dunedain living in the shadow of the Misty Moutains) who taught her to track animals, hunt, and use a sword. Eleniel's father taught her how to shoot a bow, read, write, and how to throw knives. Eleniel like writing best and soon she was writing song lyrics and composing music that she would sing. When Eleniel was 20, she and her father moved to the shadow of the White Mountains. By 30, Eleniel was making a living for herself and her father( he was a trader of books and other goods that he finds and also writes a few of them so he was making money too). Once she was singing for people in an inn near her home( her job) when she received word that her father had died a fight while on his way home from trading in Gondor. She was grieved so much by the loss of her father that she moved to Gondor and stayed there for 20 years. In that time she became an expert rider and she learned to love horses, she bought her horse (Calanon) during that time period. By now she had become immensely curious about who her mother really was, not just a figment of her father's memory and her imagination, so she left Gondor and went to Mirkwood; where her parents had lived and where she was born.

Other: None at the moment


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