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Thread: Where the Wind May Take Us

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Together, Wenlesael Isil and myself are starting an adventure, a story. It start with two elves, who's names are Wenshor(Wenlesael) and Arhwir(Rukain), and who are indeed two very rugged elves. They both have a thirst for adventure, and are constantly striving to satisfy it, though it never is, and may never be, satisfied. Thy are only content when out on the road(or off it), traveling, fighting when need be, exploring wherever they are, and going where the wind may take them.                                                      Rules:

      Though in the intro I didn't exactly clarify it, I will now: this is a role-playing guild, or RPG. Wenlesael and I are the Game Masters; if only one is allowed, then I am GM, but we are running this together. We are going to limit the number of people who start this journey with us. Sorry to whoever is not included, but with too many people, it's really hard. The limit is(excluding Wen and I) 9 people.

  When you introduce your character, you may give a description of any amount of detail. If you wish, you can include a personality description, appearance, skills, weapons, etc, but the only thing REQUIRED is the name of the character you chose to play as. Then you must develop and introduce your character as the story progresses.

    When you are writing a post, you have COMPLETE control. You may use any character in the story, and take the plot where you wish. Just try to keep it realistic to the characters, and to the world, which is Middle-Earth.

   You can get pretty descriptive with wounds blood and such, just try not to go too over-the-top; there are some people(thought not me or Wen) who might be uncomfortable with such things, and may read or join our RPG.

  I believe that's it for the rules. If there is any confusion concerning them later on, Wen or I will straighten it out. So, we shall begin, and go where the wind may take us.....

     Arhwir waited in the dark corner of the Golden Hills Inn, an inn of fame in the lonely parts near Rohan where it was stationed. She and her old friend, Wenshor, had been rather still for a while now(at least in their standards), and were itching to get back on the road. Wenshor had gotten an idea, though, and so they now must wait until he was satisfied. Though Arhwir didn't say so, she approved of Wen's idea, and was eager to see the results. Most of their adventures they had gone on alone, or with only eachother, but now they were about to try something different. "The first 9 people who walk through that door," Wenshor had said earlier, pointing at the front door of the Golden Hills Inn, "We will, aherm, 'convince' to come with us. With this!" He dramatically pulled out his long knife. "Jokingly of course," He said, returning the knife to it's place in his belt. "Yes," said Arhwir, rather sarcastically, "jokingly of course." So Wenshor sat down at the bar, and Arhwir took her natural place in the shadows, with a hood over her face, and waited, eager on the inside, but very still on the outside. At least, until...

      OOC: And so, let the wind take us where it will!

So, as Rukain said, both her and I will try to keep this going and under control as well as fun! Sound good? I hope so!

My character, Wenshor, goes by the name Wen mostly and is quite an interesting fellow. You see, Wen came from a line of so called, rugged elves. Elves that normally roamed around, lived on anything, were tough as anything and always good company. So, Wen wore his light brown hair long and tangled, his apparel is a leather tunic, a faded, dark green cloak, and three throwing knives, a long stiletto and half a spear (the half with the spear head, of course) for defense. Always nonchalant, smiling, and often talking, Wen comes up with a lot of not-so-smart ideas and only a few good ones. Wen's eyes are shockingly blue and fit his personality quite well.


"Aye, that we'll do! If anyone disagrees to come along, we'll stick'em through." I jokingly tossed a knife up into the air and caught it between my thumb and forefinger. "Aw, I guess maybe not....but I still might threaten them and give'em my most charming smile!" Arhwir and I laughed and set about to watching the door of the 'Golden Hills Inn'. I started out in a song with my clear voice echoing throughout the room. My father before me had been the uncomunicative, silent type, but I was just the opposite. I would gladly talk and sing all day if someone were willing to listen even with half an ear. Yes, that was me.

Because I didn't describe my character before, I'll do it know.

Arhwir is a rather young elf from who-knows-where, and has traveled to many who-knows-where's many times. She has long, dark hair, almost black, that is not very tidy, but rather tangled. A bit of dirt never upsets her a bit; actually it's a bit of soap that can be a problem. Arhwir is a lonely character, preferring a small, select group to a large company, and so she  does not always make very good company. She rarely speaks her feelings aloud, and is often silent, but when her anger is aroused, there is indeed reason to fear. She is normally seen as grim and solemn, but after a long run or a ride alone somewhere in nature, she can be very amiable, especially when there is anything involving music. She is skilled in many instruments, but only carries with her a small wooden flute. She wears a long, evergreen tunic, high boots and a dark cloak, and a very thin silver chain around her neck. Her weapons are two fairly short, thin curved swords of a striking white, that(unlike herself) never seem to get dirty. Once her trust is gained, her loyalty is fierce as a dragon who's been awakened from his nap, but that trust is very hard to gain. With a few, Wenshor being one, she will joke and laugh like anything, but mind the word 'few'. She is not overly cheerful or outgoing,  like Wen, and she is suspicious and distrustful, but she's willing to give others a chance to prove themselves to her, though she's a bit hard to please. But naturally, she enjoys seeing people's reactions to Wen's many stunts.

Character Description


Amarnil is a Noldor still wondering and enjoying the beauty of Middle Earth. Very tall and lean, he has dark brown eyes and long black hair. His favoured weapon is his longbow which has been his best friend for ages. He relies on stealth and secrecy to move around so is only wears light armour. For close combat he carries a beautiful curved smitar and a hunting knife.


The rain was beating against his long hooded coat. While it kept him dry, Amarnil was nevertheless cold. Walking towards the Golden Hills Inn, which a Famer had so kindly recommended to him upon his inquiry, he was looking forward to some hot food and a nice bed. Approaching the building which appeared to be quite long, he saw glimpses of warm golden light escaping through the windows. It looked welcoming enough. Making sure his weapons were not visible, bar his longbow which he carried strapped to his back shielded in its waterproof case, he softly pushed the doors opened and stepped in.

Marking a brief pause, he observed the surrounding noticing that not many people were around which he attributed to the weather. Walking over to the bar, he ordered a pint of ale and some hot food and made his way to a free table next to the fireside.

It was then that he noticed the two figures seated at the opposite end of the room watching him with interest...

A solemn figure entered first. Dark haired, cautious looking, a fine fellow if you asked me. He seemed to notice us almost immediately as we watched the door he came through. I slowly stood up, stretched a bit, and ambled over to our "prey".

I smiled. I big, flashy smile. His eyes narrowed, questioningly.

"Sir, would you mind joining us?" The man replied with a shake of his head, and we walked back over to Arhwir. "Sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to by your own beer. I haven't a piece of silver anywhere on me." He nodded and Arhwir stood to meet us. "He'll join us. I told you this was going to be easy. Not a word of arguing, in fact, not a word at all! He's going to come with us!" I announced this with fervor.

The man then spoke, "What? Come where? You did mean to join you in sitting here, right? Or am I mistaken?"

Arhwir, rolled her eyes at me and proceeded to explain. He seemed quite alright about it as she gave the details of my plan and even looked somewhat entertained. I proudly twirled a knife around my fingers, it was a great plan. I really hoped the man would accept.

Amarnil listened attentively to his hosts' proposal. He remained silent for a few minutes after they had laid out their plans and thought the matter over.

"Well," he began slowly. "Your proposals sounds interesting enough, but I need time to think it over! I will let you know of my answer by tomorrow!"

That said, he rose and bowed to his new friends, and returned to his own table where the Bartender had spread out a most welcoming and appetising meal. Half an hour later, full and happy he made his way to his room. 

"Ah!" he thought to himself. "I wonder when it was last that I slept in a bed." Undressing, he slipped beneath the sheets and fell asleep almost immediately


The Next Day

Being an early riser, Amarnil woke an hour before sunrise and at the first rays of the Sun walked into the dinning room and ordered a breakfast. Halfway through it, he was joined by his two companions of last night. Seeing his gear next to him, they took it as a good sign and the one named Wenshor asked, "Had a nice rest? What have you decided about our proposal?"

"I will accompany you. But I do not pledge that I will be with you for the whole of the journey!"

"Fair enough," Arhwir replied.

"So, what the plan for today?"

After Amarnil had gone to his room, Wen and Arhwir sat a little longer in the downstairs. Wen kept expressing his excitement, and his hopes that Amarnil would accept, but Arhwir was quiet, and gazed off into nowhere. "Arwhir," She finally heard Wen through her daze, "You've been out this whole time, haven't you?" Wen inquired. He didn't seem upset by it, and Arhwir simply shrugged. "Aye!" Wen stood and stretched. "Ready for sleep, I am." He paused, looking at Arwhir. She replied, "I guess I'll follow suit. Sleep doesn't hurt anyone... normally."  With that, the two headed upstairs to their beds. For a long while, Arwhir lay awake thinking. She was sick of beds and walls. She was ready for woods and open skies, and grass and dust. Oh well, Wenshor would hear nothing of it,  now that his plan was set in motion. They would wait...


The next morning, Arwhir awoke a little before sunrise. When she and Wen entered the dining room of the inn, Amarnil was already sitting at his breakfast. They joined him, and heard his reply to their request. He would join, at least for now. Wen, obviously pleased and proud of his 'persuasive skills' as he said, ordered a large breakfast, which he ate most of himself. Arhwir, who was restless and tired of being inside, and who was just not a morning person, ate little, and was rather temperamental for the most part. Wen was unaffected by Arhwir's ill temper, however, and kept on talking and laughing. Thus they spent the beginning of their day.

One thing about me that may be surprising, is that I can sense emotions. While Arhwir was sullen and silent, though I laughed and talked all the time I understood at least a little of what was going on in her mind. First off, I could tell that she was very ready to get going. So, I had a plan...yes, another plan. We would leave, the three of us, and tell our trustworthy innkeeper to send the next eight people that come through his door to the little water fall nearby. We could travel slowly and each day, I would run back to the water fall to check for any new companions. That way, we would be out on our journey and still be able to gather a group of adventurers. I was a marvelous runner (even if I thought so myself) and the trip to the water fall would not be a problem.

I hoped Arhwir would be pleased by my idea. And the our friend the archer to for that matter.

Having heard Wen's plan concerning the Waterfall, Amarnil thought it would be too taxing on her to do it daily. Instead he suggested leaving a message at the Inn where any wanderer interested in the quest should follow the sound of an Elvish Horn heard at sunrise and dusk everyday. 

While they were discussing this plan over, a group of three farmers entered the Inn for breakfast and to share the local gossip.

"You heard the news?" one of them said. "Apparently a troll and a few Orcs were signted near the swaps of the Isen."

At this the three elves, stopped their chatter and listened attentively.

"Who saw them?" another replied in between a mouthful of ale. "I don't believe you! We haven't seen any of these dratted creatures since the Great War ended!"

"But what do you make of the disappearing horses and cattle then? Old Nodes said he found a carcass of one of his horses and it looked like it had been ripped and eaten. I know of no one else who would do such a thing around here!"

"And what about the Riders of the King? have they been informed?"

"Yes, they followed what they thought was a trail but it brought them to nothing. Yet, people are growing more afraid and are now traveling in groups when passing near the Swamps. It's getting a bad name especially since that kid disappeared in the area a fortnight ago."


The 3 companions looked at each other.

"I don't believe that was a chance happening," Amarnil said slowly.

"I definitely agree,"Arwhir replied. "It's certainly worth investigating!"

"I'll get some horses," Wen cut it. "Both of you pack up and be ready when I get back!"

Half an hour later, they were riding towards the dreaded swamps. The sky was dark, threatening rain and the wind, chill. The 3 elves were warmly wrapped in their cloaks and had their hoods on. With a swift gesture, Amarnil indicated to his friends to halt while he rode ahead alone, gazing at the ground. He had seen some masked trail. Reading the direction he beckoned to his companion again and they galloped forward. A few minutes later, they came to a rocky down, where further riding was impossible.

"Well seems like we will have to continue on foot from here," he whispered to his companions. They all dismounted and readied their gears. With his companion watching curiously, Amarnil revealed the content of his long sheath; a 6 foot long unstrung Longbow! Not what most elves usually carried around with them. Reaching for a pouch in his cloak, he removed his bow string and strung the longbow. His quiver set on his back, he fitted his sword to his belt and was at last ready to continue their journey.

Wen, immediately took the lead with Arwhir next and Amarnil closing the way. They made no noise as they crept forward, and kept a sharp lookout for danger which could be lurking under any stone.

I was calm. In times like these, my sense overcame my carelessness.

I had liked the look of Amarnil, with his regal expression and his long graceful bow. So, I was honored when he allowed me to take the lead of our procession.

Two knives poised between the fingers of one hand, and my half-spear in the other, I followed the track (that was becoming clearer and clearer as we went) down into a gully. Arhwir seemed particularly interested in a patch of weeds.

"Wen, take a look here. Do you think you might be able to define where this came from?" She motioned toward the clump of grass she had been examining.

Kneeling lightly down, I saw a ragged piece of flesh. Not human, not orc. The blood staining the plants was dark red. "Cows."

Amarnil seemed relieved. "At least I hope that all that has been killed are cows. Not humans or elves or dwarves or hobbits. " I agreed fully with this comment.

As we moved on a ways, I observed our surroundings. I was the type of elf that, no matter what sort of landscape I was traveling through, I could find beauty in it.

Here, there were pools of rainwater, dripping, mossy stones, patches of brown meadow grass and not much more. Thinking how dreary the place was, because there was nothing beautiful, I peered into a puddle. And in the water, I found something beautiful. A link of mithril, that could have fit around my wrist.

My companions were as astounded as I, "No doubt our fears are proved. We might being going after a monster that has ransacked and plundered treasuries, not only farms." I felt that what Amarnil said was quite a fair idea.

Along with a bit of beauty, comes a bit more knowledge, and a lot more trouble.

The party crept forward stealthily. A few yards away they came upon a few rocks which sheltered them from all, but the most vigilant of eyes. "Things aren't right!" Amarnil whispered. "This silence is uncanny, not a bird singing, or a frog croaking. If we really are near a camp of looters and pillagers, they must have at least one scout posted somewhere. Find him!"

Amarnil, breathed slowly, seeking to reduce his heart beat. It was a technique he had learned long ago. By reducing his heartbeat and calming himself down he became more aware of his surrounding. His eyes turned this way and that, searching for anything which didn't fit it. Then he had it! 1 hundred feet or so away up, a pine tree, sat a small figure. He appeared to be biting at something, probably roasted meat and wasn't paying attention at all to his surrounding.

A barely audible whistle from Wen, made him turn into his direction. "Very smart," Amarnil thought as Wen had been careful not to startle him. Wen gestured that he had seen another one further up the ridge.

"We better stay here till nightfall," Amarnil suggested to his companions. "I guess the others are in hiding at this time, and will only come out a night!"

"Aye," Arhwir whispered. "And from what I've seen they'll probably have a camp fire going which will make shooting them easier!"

"Good thinking there," Amarnil Smiled. "Once it is Dark, I will move back and take out the scout up the tree. One of you must do the same with the other. Once done, whistle like a sparrow. We will then  spread out on 3 sides of the camp. Once we're all in position, Wen will start shooting or throw his spear. The orcs will try to charge down his position, leaving them exposed from the back. Arwhir and I will then shoot from the back, to spread chaos and confusion in their ranks!"

Having agreed on the plan, they made themselves as comfortable as they could, sharing some food and drink and awaited night fall.

As the day darkened to twilight, clouds began to gather on the horizon, slowly drifting nearer. "Rain." Amarnil observed. "No matter," Wen replied, "I enjoy a good shower."

"The orcs, too, will be experiencing some 'rain,' with some steel and wood in the mix," Amarnil said, patting his longbow.

Before long, the sky was dark with the night, made even darker by the clouds which had drifted in overhead. It was time. After several exchanged glances, Amarnil headed back to pick off the first scout, while Wen slipped over to take care of the other. Arhwir stood at a point where she could see both of them, ready to jump in at any unlikely trouble. There was none. When the others had disposed of the orc scouts, their whistles rang out. Arhwir turned towards the orc camp and grinned. How stupid the beasts were.

Now, the three silently slipped into place around the orcs, who were sitting around their fire arguing over some thing or another. There were about a score of them, at the very most, which was a large number for the times. For a minute or so, she waited then--thud-as one orc fell to the ground. The rest rose and with angry, chaotic shouting and snarling ran up towards the trees on the north side of  the camp. Arwhir readied her weapons. "Filthy wretches," she whispered, "Won't live to see another sunrise."

Hey, sorry for double-posting, but I was cut off in the middle of my last post, so I'll finish it.


As the orcs searched frantically for the one who felled the first of them, arrows began to whiz from the shadows behind them. Once the orcs finally realized they were being pelted from behind, a good number of them had already fallen, and true chaos settled in. They scattered every which way, searching, snarling, shouting, as one after another fell. Then, from the shadows to the north, came Wen, with his spear in hand, leaping into the fray.

"Ha!" a triumphant Wen slew one after another. Arhwir drew her blades from their places and raced into the orc camp. Arrows from Amarnil's bow soared through the air, first on one side, then the other, never in the same place.

It was then that they heard the first clap of thunder. The sky was ablaze for one split second before submerging again into darkness. As the last orcs fell lifeless to the ground, a few small drops of rain began to fall, before long becoming heavier. Their victory yet new, Amarnil had not come out from his place. Wen and Arhwir stood together in the open circle the orcs had cleared for their camp. Arhwir looked around her. The orcs were slain, but something wasn't quite right.

Then, through the rain, they heard a thud, followed by a groan, then thud. Arhwir tightened her grip on her swords. Thud...thud... As they grew closer, the ground seemed to shake. CRASH! went the tree on the outskirts of the camp. There stood the massive figure of a troll. "Well, this is unexpected," said Arhwir through clenched teeth. Another clap of thunder signaled a torrent as the rain came pouring down. The sky again lit up, darkening the outline of the giant beast.

Orcs, mithril, now trolls, Arhwir thought to herself. Now what?

Before the Battle

Amarnil had left his companions once dusk settled. Moving stealthily towards a large and ancient pine tree he had espied earlier, he positioned himself next to it. With the shadows lengthening, was nearly invisible. His eyes strained as he seek his target. Movements in a tree betrayed the scout's presence again. He was still bemused how careless those orcs were when they were so close to the lands of the Horse Lords. Taking an arrow and holding it in his right hand he gauged the distance of the shot. Care was needed to prevent the body of the dead orc from falling right among his comrades when Amarnil would shoot him.

He waited patiently. After a few moment it seemed that the grunt leaned against the tree to rest or sleep. Seeing a good opportunity, Amarnil fitted the arrow to his bow, aimed, and lifted it 45 degrees before releasing it. The arrow whooshed through the air and pierced the scout through the throat pinning him to the tree. The din from round the camp fire prevented the others from hearing anything. Being pleased with his work, he sent the signal and proceeded to position himself and waiting for the answer to begin the attack.


The Attack

His current position did not however provide a very good view of the main orc camp. Creeping to the North he found a small rivulet which probably ran to its end in the nearby marshes. The water was crystal clear but icy cold. The ground surroundings it was soft and offered a good view of the camp below. On his way to the site he had heard the prearanged signal, so Amarnil lost no time setting himself up. Removing all his arrows from his quiver he planted them upright before him, with the tip downwards in the soft earth. He was now ready. The first arrow hit an orc sending him sprawling in the fire. A sudden silence over the marsh was testimony to the shocked state of the orcs. Wasting no time Amarnil kept shooting his arrows. As the Orcs seemed to determine the direction of the shots, more came from the other direction. They met their final doom when up sprung a lithe elf with a deadly spear and rode them to their death.


The Troll

Amarnil, from his vantage point watched as Wen and Arwhir met again amongst the field of dead orcs. A sudden clap of thunder and lighting lit up the surrounding. That brief moment had revealed to his quick eyes movement yonder as if some huge beast was coming forth. Doubt took him. Glancing down to his feet less than 10 arrows remained. Moments later he watched in amazement as the biggest troll he had ever set eyes upon crashed upon the field!

That was a tall order for them even if they outnumbered it 3 to 1. Amarnil suddenly had an idea. He usually kept an assortment of medicinal herbs in his pouch and one of them, when crushed and inhaled, would make a person groggy. Taking a few leaves, he made a thick paste and smeared it on the the head of one of his arrows. 

Taking aim, he pulled the the arrow back until it was next to his right ear. He could hear both tip of the bows creaking and feel his own muscles twitching. When he felt he could no longer pull back even a centimeter more, he released the arrow. As he was shooting from a higher point, the velocity of the arrow was great. It hit the troll in the chest and plunged in, though he rightly guessed that the hide the beast was wearing would mean the wound was superficial. Still the herb would render him groggy soon. He dared not shoot any more as he could hit anyone once the close combat started, which would be soon as his arrow had enraged the beast. He watched tersely as the combat started knowing he had done everything he could to help his friends....



Arhwir gripped her swords tighter in her hands, and squinted through the rain at the massive beast before her. It was out-numbered, and out-smarted even by only one of them. But on his side was brute strength.

The troll took one step closer, then stopped and grunted as if surprised. The monster stupidly gazed around, and in a flash of lightning, Arhwir saw a shaft in the troll's chest. Not much of a wound, she thought. She started slowly circling to the right and glanced at Wen, who nodded his understanding and began to loudly draw the troll's attention.

"You nasty brute! I've a temper, and I tell you now, it's an unmatched terror!" He shouted, waving his spear in the air. As Arhwir started to circle to the back, she noticed the troll beginning to sway a bit on his feet.

''That's unnatural...'' Arhwir murmured to herself. Then she stopped, suddenly realizing: ''The Noldor! Clever.'' He must have drugged the ugly beast.

Eh, just wanted to let you all know that I haven't died. Just a little tired from a bunch of long airplane rides. I am pooped. Seriously. Whooped. Eating soup at the moment. Getting over jet lag. Arrived here a few hours ago.


"Oh, all ugly beasts are doomed to die terrible deaths wrought by cold steel." Or so I thought when I watched the troll crash doggedly through the trees. I was sick. Almost as sick as he was...and for the same reason. The poison. It horrified me that the evil brute was falling without dying from a mortal wound the way it should be.

So, I flipped over a large rock, jumped high with the aid of my momentum, and while in the air I flicked two shining knives from my belt. The glided through the air like through water, flowing through the dim light, straight into the trolls throat. With a grunt and a cough, he fell.

The glory, though, must be split. The Noldor is allowed some of it...even if he did use some sickly poison.

 As Amarnil ran down from his place among the shadows, Arhwir wiped her twin blades on the grass. She looked over at Wen. He was still staring at the dead body of the troll, looking as if he were about to be sick. Arhwir herself thought the idea of the poison was clever, but she could see Wen was a bit upset over it. 'At least it's dead,' she whispered. Wen would get over it. He always did.

 Arhwir's respect for Amarnil had grown a bit with this turn of events and his handling of it. She at first (and as usual) was not overly confident in his strengths or trustworthiness, but now, he was starting to prove himself... starting to. She wasn't quite ready for a lot of openness or talking with him. She wasn't a people person. At the moment, she was ready to move on, preferably in silence.

And so they did. Even Wen was quiet. Amarnil looked about at his companions, as if not quite sure if they approved of his tactics or not. Arhwir did approve, though in her strange way made it seem otherwise. Wenshor may have felt otherwise, or not. Ah well, perhaps they would be a bit more open with time.