The Lost Company - Discussion Thread

[Valandil]

1975 of the Third Age - that's 375 Shire Reckoning!

The Battle of Fornost is just ended. The halflings of the Shire (alright - they call themselves 'Hobbits') sent a company of archers. The battle got pretty fierce around them and, well... only a small remnant survived.

Home was maybe 50 leagues of the Dunedain to the west and south - 150 miles. That's where they expected to be going next. But then they got... another request. Why they agreed to take it, they could never quite figure out afterwards.

Characters for this game should be hobbit archers. Unless they return incognito, they won't ever be going back home to the Shire - as they histories recount that they were never heard from again.

Join at your peril.

[Aikanáro]

I'm interested!

Here's a brief character sketch, let me know if it's okay!

Melilot Banks

It's been said by some in her hometown of Michel Delving that the way young Melilot Banks turned out is no surprise. Her grandfather married a Took, after all, and she was just the same. Most hobbits don't hold with that kind of adventuring. But Melilot? She's a dreamer. Always has been; likely as not to be staring off into space as paying attention to the world around her. Always such a solitary girl, too. Eccentric, that's the word for it. Everyone in town tended to just accept her the way she was, they're a decent sort of people, and her family were well-respected. They still are; they own the local inn. Of course, that only gave Melilot the opportunity to fill her head with grand notions, talking with travelers and odd folk passing through.

If she hadn't spent so much time with her cousins that summer, things might have been different. You know her cousins, the Lightfoots from Waymeet? Dalric Lightfoot only went and took up archery, so naturally his brothers followed suit - and his sisters - and then Melilot, who was staying for a few weeks, and she showed more promise than most of them. Strange hobby for a lass, to be sure, but mayhaps her folks were pleased enough to see her take such an interest in something that they didn't much mind what it was.

Then little Melilot grew up. She used to help her parents out in the inn - with the cooking, mostly. Her apple pies are particularly good, likely because she's got something of a sweet tooth herself. Everyone thought getting a bit older would help knock the corners off her, that she'd mature and settle down. If anything, though, she's gotten more set in her ways now that she's nearing the end of her tween years. She didn't go to any of the dances, you know. I thought all girls her age liked dancing. Only she'd be out practicing with that bow of hers instead, or staring out along the East Road as if she felt ready to bolt.

Like I said. Tookish grandmother. We should have expected what came next, when that company of archers was formed up. Try telling Melilot she oughtn't to join them! Oh, she pointed out, and very nicely too, that she could hit a target at a greater distance than most of her cousins, and they had gone, hadn't they? There was no reasoning with her, she was set on it. Offered a demonstration of her skill, even, though that was turned down. Most hobbits don't hold with that kind of self-important spectacle.

So she joined them, and then she went north with them, all the way to Norbury, as I hear it, though there hasn't been any word back from her yet. Or any of the others, as it happens. I expect they're on their way home already. Hopefully Melilot will have had her fill of adventure and won't give her poor mother any more cause for worry.


Melilot Banks stands a little over three feet tall. She has curly brown hair, and a pleasantly plump, typically hobbitish figure. She's fond of wearing calf-length dresses in a particularly bright shade of yellow. The difference between now and before her life got interesting, as she puts it, is that now brown trouser-legs peep out from underneath the skirt hem, practical hand-me-downs from an older brother. As an archer, she wears bracers to protect her forearms, and a stout leather jerkin.

[Aikanáro]

No comment?

[Valandil]

I'm sorry.

That sounds great! I'll post more here soon about what I'm thinking for the game. Anyone else interested?

[Varnafindë]

I'm not sure - I'll keep reading your ideas, though, and see ...

If I'd offer a character at all, it would be a male hobbit, a distant relative of some hobbits I'm playing on a different board, some 8 or 9 hundred years later (so as he is lost, he's not Primula Green's ancestor, but some number of great-grand-uncle).

It would be nice to play with both of you

[Acalewia]

Nissa Grubb of Hardbottle is the only daughter of Murella and Boidoc. Having grown up among brothers she learned the art of archery along with one of her brothers. She is very talented archer. She has curly golden hair that she keeps tied back and grey eyes that sparkle. She is always ready with a laugh and a smile. She is young for a Hobbit, being in her tweens (she's thirty). She's fond of boy's clothing, having grown up with boys. She's very tomboyish.

[Torongil]

I’d like something like this if you’ll have me:

If an Oldbuck marries a Took, that's just asking for trouble. So when Fosco Oldbuck married Berylla Took they set loose something which could not be contained: Falco Oldbuck.

He wasn't yet seven when he disappeared for the first time. If it wasn’t for a band of Dwarves, who found him wandering and returned him home, he might have disappeared for good. ‘Wait till yer older, lad’ they said. Did he listen? Of course he didn’t.

There was not a day when Folco wasn't out on some adventure or other. Sometimes he would vanish in the morning and return late at night. At other times he would disappear for weeks only to return with a band of foreigners, Men or sometimes Dwarves. All this of course did nothing good for his “respectability”. He was the constant topic of idle conversation at the local Inns. Shunned by the elder respectable hobbits but loved by his fellow Tweens; that was Falco. He would tell some of the children the strangest stories; of course few believed him, but they enjoyed them all the same.

And when a company of hobbit archers was formed in the Shire? Folco wouldn’t miss out on this. He wrote his name three times on the list to make certain that they knew he was coming. He was a good shot. He had to be, constantly wandering off alone. So with a stout staff, a strong bow and a long knife he was off; for what was probably the last adventure of his peculiar career.