Into the Barrow: The Game

[afro-elf]

We can post the ACTUAL game here and questions etc on the older thread if that is OK with every one.

[Legolas]

OOC: for me, it's OK. Maybe someone should add the list of players and their character names, so that it would be easier to contact.
And please, if you think my RP skill is too little, just tell. I always want to improve.

IC:
Hawair was sitting at the table in the corner of the "Prancing Ponny". He has just came from the outside. Wind was blowing outside, and it was dark. In contrast, the inn was more lively than usual. Soemthing strange was going to happen, Hawair just knew this. "Luckily, I am not in the centre of the talks here", he thought, as he was a rather shy and reserved person.
Hawair turned his head around, examining all faces in the place. One of them seemed seen to him. It was an elf, nearly of the same age as Hawair. He was sitting with a company of some others, but Hawair couldn't see the faces. Hawair stood up from the table, and walked slowly to this elf. While walking, he had to throw down two men and a hobbit, who were drunk and tried to use Hawair's body as an armament.
When finally gone to the table, Hawair asked that elf:
- Excuse me, good sir, might we know each other?
The elf turned his head to Hawair. At that moment, Hawair's mind and memory lighted up.
- Malathor! My friend! - Hawair exclaimed. - How have you come in here?

OOC2: My first part is finished now. Afro-elf, write your story now...

OOC means Out Of Character, if you didn't know
IC means In Character.

[delchrys]

ooc: jason here. Character name-Beladryn. Wizardly-looking guy.

IC: no one seems to pay much attention to the older man as he sits in his chair, picking his teeth with his nails, or maybe the other way around. his grey hair is flecked with streaks of auburn, and his robe and cape look worn but comfortable. His expression is bored, but his eyes are carefully watching the reunion on the side of the Pony...

[Feraway Hawkbriar]

Feraway walked up to the Prancing Pony Inn a large grey dog at her side, "Now you stay here leaf, dont go chasing any cats or squrrils". The dog whent and currled up to the left of the door. "Good boy. I shall be out in a bit".

She walked inside. The week had been quite dull and she hoped some hours at the Pony would cure her boredom. To her releif the little Inn was quite buisy tonight, many travelers, and locals were talking and drinking and going about their buisness.

"Ah, Mr Butterbur buisy tonight eh?" She said as she saw the Inn keeper comeing through with a large tray of ales. "Aye, and I spos you're going to be adding to that buisy then?". Feraway laughed "Always Mr Butterbur!" Then she whent and chose a small table that had not yet been occupied. She threw her green cloak over the back of the chair and then sat down, relaxing and takeing stock of room.

The room was mostly filled with Men, and there were one or two other hobbits about aswell. She also noted the few elves in the corner. "Havnt seen elves in Bree for a while" she thought to herself, then she shrugged knowing that elves do as they please and sometimes turn up when they are least expected.

At this point her attention suddenly got turned to two young men. They apeared to be extremely drunk, and unfortunatly they were aproaching her. She rolled her eyes, she knew what was coming, Men had done this before. Normaly they didnt usually bother much with the maids outside their own kind. However Feraway was a half-breed and thus exceptionally tall (by hobbit standards) and most of the time wore boots, and so this sortof mistake, especially by the intoxicated was sometimes made.

The first of the young men came up along side her" Hello there, pretty little thing" he said, his speech was incredibly slurred. "Interested in a little fun tonight then?" Feraway was distgusted. Then man smelled and he apeared even more drunk than she originally had guessed. "I suggest that you and your freind back off" She said. The man and his freind just laughed. He brought his face closer to her's, she thought she was going to be sick. "Little lady trying to play hard then are we?" His hand made a move for her theigh. That was quite enough, Feraway drew her knife and in a flash had it at the man's throat. "I said, BACK OFF." The mans companion moved forward "YOU TOO ORC FACE!...or you shal both be in a LOT of pain." She made a little motion with her knife, near the first man's throat to demonstrate the point. The two men backed off and whent back to a table on the other side of the room. "Idiots" Feraway muttered, then returned her knife to its sheath.

[afro-elf]

OOC I'll make a list of characters after I post here. It will be on the other thread.

IC

Malathor had arrived a couple of hours before. He had caused quite a stir. Elves were not so common, especially Baranavair. He didn't mind much though. After securing a room. He moved to the common area to gather news.

He asked the serving girls who the non locals were and made his way in that direction. After a brief introduction, he joined the Men and the handfull of Dwarves in exchanging as much info as could be gathered.

It was as he had expected tales of war gathering in the South and East. The Dwarves of the Ered Lune spoke of many Elves going unto the Grey Havens and sailing west. Having left the Havens recently himself he knew this to be true.

Even though his attention was on the conversation, he kept his keen Elven senses on what was happening around him. He knew Men(Humans) and alcohol didn't mix well.

He noticed two drunkards that approached a young... seemingly human female, but his superior eyesight showed him slightly pointed ears, as she quickly rid herself of her assailants. He then thought that she was the tallest Hobbit ever, before he noticed her boots. He was at a loss and would have to inquire about her.


He turned his his attention back to the conversation. A local was speaking about black riders who rode down the gate a few months before....


Moments later, he noticed that someone was approaching.


When the stranger finally got to the table, Hawair asked that elf malathor)

- Excuse me, good sir, might we know each other?

The elf turned his head to Hawair. At that moment, Hawair's mind and memory lighted up.
- Malathor! My friend! - Hawair exclaimed. - How have you come in here?

Malathor flashed a giant smile and stood and hugged his former companion.

He pulled out a seat for his friend and introduced him to the others he had been speaking to.

"How did I get here? Well, after I left Rivendell I traveled with Galdor back to the Grey Havens. Ah! Beware the sea my friend. However, I became restless a decided to head back east. Trouble seems to be brewing east and south and thought maybe my bow, blades and herbalist skills could be put to use."

"What about you I thought that you would have traveled back to Mirkwood with the others ."

[Lysander]

With sudden determination a man rises from his small table in a darkened corner of the common room, half-empty tankard in hand. He is tall and lean, dressed in worn clothes that were once, long ago, of very fine make.

With assured grace he moves to Feraway's table, watching the two frightened drunkards stumble away. Gesturing to an empty seat across from her, he asks," Do you mind if I join you? "

Sitting, he adds, "You know, just to keep the ruffians at bay." He smiles a little, and glances over at the reunion of the elves only a table away.

[Renille]

Nabinel had been in Bree for only a few days, researching and exploring the Shire and its surrounding area. It was the first time this young Gondorian had been to Bree, and as usual, she was excited to find a new place to discover. She was preparing to return home today, however,and was sitting at a corner table, poring over the notes she had taken and maps she had created about the strange land. She wanted to remember the customs and geography the next time she had to lead someone back to their home.

A slight disturbance from the next corner caused her head to bob up. It seemed that two drunkards were giving a hobbit maiden a hard time. She warded them off quickly. Nabinel scowled. The men in Bree seemed primitive compared to her own Gondorian brothers, who cared more for valor and wisdom than pleasure.

Suddenly growing weary of her own company ,she stood up, walked over to the tall hobbit maiden , and said softly, "Greetings. My name is Nabinel of Gondor. I saw your courage against those two rouges. You are the only one of many to stand up against them that I have seen in my time here. Usually, Mr. Butterbur intervenes, and someone leads the men home. You were brave to stand up for yourself." Nabinel came to the real reason of her conversation..."I was curious...are you a halfling or someone of the human race, like I? I was unsure, for you resemble both."

[delchrys]

someone was talking of black riders...a word entered beldaryn's mind. "nazgul." he spoke the word aloud as though tasting it. His eyebrows furrowed and his neutral expression changed to one of displeasure. he did NOT like the sound of the word. apparently, neither did one of the more intoxicated patrons.

"watchyer mouth!" a smelly brute slurred, standing to his feet with a stagger. he pointed a half-eaten loaf of stale bread at beladryn. "it's not safe to speak of such things!."

beladryn took a little too long to realize he was being addressed.

"hey!" the drunkard continued, "i'm talking to YOU!"

beladryn looked shocked, and pointed at himself, not fully comprehending. "me?"

"talk like that can get an old man hurt in these parts," the man threatened.

"i do not know of what you speak, kind sir, but i assure you," beldaryn explained, "i meant no offense."

whispered words began to fill beldaryn's head. the temptation to speak them was almost too great, but the orange glow of the hearth reflected off the drunken man's balding head, reminding him of the staff, glowing blue, perhaps because of words spoken that should have been left silent. beladryn bit his lip to keep from speaking, and let his hand fall discreetly to the hilt of his blade...

[Feraway Hawkbriar]

Feraway looked at the man who had come to her table and then at the woman just now coming up to her, it seemed she would find company not stupid under the ale tonight afterall.

The man looked a bit rough, but not of a bad sort "Yes, do join me sir" she smiled. She then looked at the woman. "Ah...well, to answer yer question, I am of mixed breed. Mum was of the big folk and my father of the little folk, end result was me I spose." She motioned for the woman to pull up a chair aswell. "Oh but where are my manners? I am Feraway, Feraway Hawkbriar. May I offer either of you a drink?"

[delchrys]

beldaryn eyes met those of the drunken man. "I most definitely meant no offense with my speech," he offered, "Perhaps i can show you the truth of my innocent intent?" beldaryn signaled for a drink, "will you accept this drink in thanks for educating me on social ettiquette?"

the man's face screwed up in confusion. he didn't comprehend all of beldaryn's words, but he did understand that he was going to get a free drink from the old man. He grunted and sat.

When a tankard of mead arrived, beldaryn paid for it and took stock of his coins. Two, maybe three day's worth of time could be spent in this in, with meals, and then he'd be out of money...

[Legolas]

Hawair gladly sat down near his old friend. He greeted all others at the table. While listening to Malathor's story, he noticed a strange thing at the nearby table. A woman, looking like a mix of a hobbit and a man, pulled back two drunkards. "She's a strong one", Hawair thought. "I like this type of people. I should talk to her later".

-What about you? I thought you came back to Rivendell with the others, - Malathor said, at the end of his story.

-I nearly did that, - Hawair began. - But before going back, I had a long talk with one Ranger. I told him about my interests in wildlife, and my sorrow that there isn't much of it in the Mirkwood. He offered me to accompany him on his way back from Rivendell.

We were travelling for a long time, and I have seen much more than I have seen before. Near Bree, he departed, telling that he would meet me later. He said: "I must go to my camp, my family. We will meet again, I promise. Namarie." "Namarie", I repeated, and so we parted. I went to Bree, to the Prancing Pony, to spend a couple of days here. I thought I would meet any caravan to Mirkwood. You know, it is dangerous to travel these days, even to an elf.

Hawair finished his story, and ordered some ale.
-Oh well, it may look strange, an elf drinking ale. But my friend Ranger told me to taste it. He said that it is a wonderful drink, especially at Mr. Butterbur.

When ale was given, Hawair silenced, and startd listening to other stories at the table.

[afro-elf]

While, Hawair spoke. Malathor's ears picked up the word "nazgul" from across the room. Even with the loud gruffness of mortal voices around him, Malathor's sharp ears picked up THAT word.

Momentarily, he excused himself from the others at the table, and leaned over to Hawair. Knowing that Sindarin maybe known in these parts of the world, he shifted to the standard silvan colloquial tongue of Mirkwood.

" Hawair, that Human in the corner spoke the word Nazgul, "
Malathor stated, giving his friend a look that meant, " that's rather odd."

[Legolas]

Hawair also noticed that someone said the word "nazgul". "Why does anyone need this word in Bree?", he thought to himself.

-Hawair, that Human in the corner spoke the word Nazgul, -
Malathor stated, giving his friend a look that meant, "that's rather odd."

-I have heard this, - replied Hawair. - But look at him. He is buying a drink for some drunkard. Also, look at his appearance. His clothes, they do not correspond to his face. You notice that?

Hawair had a great eye, even between elves. As he looked to the man who said "nazgul", he noticed many weird things. First thing was that the man had a face of a great warrior, traveller, and a rich person. His clothing, however, was old, dusty and dirty. Second thing was his moves. He looked like a brave warrior, who shouldn't fear anyone. But, strangely, he didn't want to fight a drunkard. It was very weird.

-What do you think we may do now? - asked Hawair to Malathor silently. - Will we leave him alone, or will we talk with him?

[afro-elf]

Malathor paused for a moment before he spoke.

He thought about what Hawair had said concering the Mortal. Even though Hawair was a Silvan Elf, he occasionally possessed a discernment that seemed almost Calaquendi in nature.

Malathor agree with the assessment.

Aloud ( still speaking in the colloquial Silvan), Malathor responded,"Let us wait until that intoxicated Mortal leaves his table. Then I suggest that we cautiously approach him. I sense something hidden about him that I can't place."

[Griffin]

Kryden watched the activity in the Inn with a keen eye.

He would not join the revelry tonight, he had too many to watch.

The Western lands were one of his favorite wanderings. The hobbits and their odd little homes. The occasional troop of Elfs passing to the West. But tonight the Prancing Pony was quite full and very busy.

Elfs, humans, hobbits and one who seemed to be some sort of wizard, though Kryden was not one to judge by appearance. He sat in the darkest corner, hood over his face, two weeks of stubble on his face, which he needed to shave one of these days. His longbow sat at his side with hs quiver and his sword and long dagger were easily concealed beneath his traveling robe.

He shook his head and took a sip then leaned back.

[Renille]

Nabinel gladly accepted the chair, but as to the drink; "No thank you, I shall be retiring up to my chamber soon. I depart for Gondor in the morning." As she spoke, Nabinel distinctly heard the word "nazgul." She frowned, and wheeled around to see the speaker. It was a strange old man, one she had neither seen nor heard of before. Noble he seemed, and yet not so, for his clothes were travel worn, and was in the company of a drunkard. "Those who know not of what they speak should remain silent." Nabinel murmured to herself. It angered her to hear the name of the servants of the enemy of her people spoken in such an innocent place. She turned back around, and asked her own companions, "Who is that old man over there, by the wall? Have you ever seen him before?"

[Feraway Hawkbriar]

Feraway looked over at the man Nabinel was asking about. "No, I cant say that I have seen him before. Just another traveler, like yerself. That would be my guess."

[delchrys]

beldaryn sighed so deeply it was almost a sob as the drunken human left him to engage in more drinking. he closed his eyes and rested his face in his hands for a brief moment. the voices in his head, familiar yet unknown terms, places, names...it was getting to be too much, yet he knew not how to assuage his suffering, for he knew not the origin of his memory loss.

beldaryn ran his fingers through his hair, and set his face like stone. He surveyed the patrons again, and noticed more than a few eyes surreptitiously paying him some attention. his grey eyes met those of an elven male, then did the same with his companion, a brief nod to each. He returned to biting his nails, wondering what to expect next...

[Hot_Wings]

Sorry for not posting sooner.

As all of you sit and ponder on the thought of the nine riders, a sudden chill comes over you as the door bursts open. You see a ragged looking man stumble in. He was wearing rags which might have once been clothes. Twigs and leafs were intangled in the mess you would call hair. Mud stained his body in odd places.
"Wights, in the barrow," he managed to croak out before crashing to the floor.

[delchrys]

wights, nazgul...these words were filthy words, beldaryn felt, the reaction of the drunkard and some of the other patrons showed that it was socially unacceptable to speak of nazgul and also, it seemed, wights. More important was the feelings these words instilled in him--a kind of "foul taste" in his heart that made his teeth itch and his hair stand on end. This man, who had just clunked to the floor either dead or close, must have been harmed.

Beladryn moved forward to ascertain the condition of the fallen man. His right hand crossed his chest and pulled his blade free from the scabbard in one easy, automatic movement. Blade at the ready, he prepared to crouch beside the man and turn him face up, to see if he still lived. As he reached towards the man, beldaryn called out, "i have no healing skill, does anyone here know how to care for the injured? perhaps a threat approaches from outside--someone should bar the door"...