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Re: When One's Already Asked Too Much... by Dagmar
[September 02, 2020, 05:21:53 PM]

Re: Disrespectful Treatment of Trees for a Good Cause by Pellavan
[September 01, 2020, 07:22:50 PM]

Why Gard Shouldn't Read (Percy Jackson) equals games! by Gard
[August 30, 2020, 10:09:30 PM]

Re: Becca's Drabbles and One Shots by Glorfindel
[August 30, 2020, 04:09:20 PM]

Re: Open Communication by Dagmar
[August 26, 2020, 02:57:42 PM]

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The Shire / Re: When One's Already Asked Too Much...
« Last post by Dagmar on September 02, 2020, 05:21:53 PM »
Bilbo Baggins was of course as cordial and accommodating as ever! Dags sent him another grateful smile as she lead Tuuli inside, and of course neither of them mentioned the years or graceful aging, probably because neither felt it really. Dags only recalled how long it had been since her last visit, shortly after the Company's return and Bilbo's first letter, by how different the inside of his Hobbit hole looked.

She of course made sure both she and Tuuli wiped their feet on the charming mat by the door.

It was still amazing how two Races known for living underground could execute such so differently. Dags would say there was a charm to the inside of a mountain, and the whole civilization possibly, that it took Dwarves to recognize and appreciate, but one would be blind to not also notice the quaintness of a Hobbit hole as well.

Her thoughts running ahead of her, though recalling to give the tie-in to her own thoughts not always forthcoming during such times, Dagmar spoke without thinking, but to her own detriment more than his, perhaps, "The charm of your dwellings never ceases to amaze me, Master Baggins. Have you ever seen our Dwarven halls in the mountain...oh".

Sudden realization came almost as soon as the words left.

Erebor. Or course.

Dags smiled softly to show he didn't need to answer that, and turned her attention to watching Tuuli investigate the table of trinkets.

"I have chamomile, and milk for Miss Tuuli if she'd prefer". Ti turned towards the nice Hobbit, "Oh yes please!", she said, and Dags smiled her own gratitude at Master Bilbo Baggins.

He settled once he returned with the items.

"So. I trust you found the trip not too strenuous?"

Dags smiled again as she watched Tuuli sip her milk with a mother's concern for Bilbo's table, even if he himself didn't seem bothered by the threat inherent in small children and mugs. Taking his cue, she let up (just a bit though) and glanced back to Bilbo, "No, thank-you, the road from Ered Luin  to even Bree is easy enough, and my youngest brother has traveled it many times to sell his steel, and walking through the Shire can hardly be called traveling, I feel, it's so...grand", she settled on for a description.

"I tried to convince him to come with me, by the way, but I think he also enjoys the praise Men give when buying his swords too much to be pulled from it, even for homely comforts", she smiled brightly, before going on.

"Well and how have you been since my last visit, Master Bsggins", she didn't just mean the reason stated in his letter, and the aid he'd requested, though she did go on to mention it, and gave a lead in if he wished one, though she was just as happy to enjoy the Hobbit's company before launching into 'business'. "You mentioned your nephew in your letter, though I'm sorry to hear of the tragedy that lead to it and your cousin and his wife", she went on softly, and only because Bilbo had said Frodo was not about to overhear. She also glanced to make sure Ti wasn't too interested in what she meant and she didn't break into her girl's play with too morose.

True, it had been a few years at this stage, but Dagmar understood years never truly dented pain, and even her own experiences aside had seen in Fíli how a son would always feel keenly the loss of a father.
Rivendell / Re: Disrespectful Treatment of Trees for a Good Cause
« Last post by Pellavan on September 01, 2020, 07:22:50 PM »
<<ooc: I was gonna just say 'normal sized' but I looked it up again for you from her app. Wow I got more specific than I usually do! "just under the height of a male, coming nearer 5 straight feet tall and 7 1/2 long, coming short of some males who are 8">>

His ploy worked, and stopped the Warg, if momentarily, and even if it was also genuine aid along with saving his own skin. As for how Pellavan ranked those two, and which was more important...well he didn't have the focus at the time to rank it; maybe later he would figure that out.

Arthfael rushed over to help, for which Pellavan was grateful, because he wasn't sure how long he could hold the rope in any useful capacity.

The plan had not been fully thought out when executed, no.

The Man got in a hit to one of Nyx's hind paws, a minor annoyance she would answer for in a bit, except that in the momentary distraction it caused, the young Elf added insult to injury!

As she felt herself restrained, Nyx growled and lunged out, but to no avail...which only made her madder! An Elf being able to restrain her thus was bad enough, but a pup of an Elf hardly grown into his own or into a proper meal!

Of course it would have no doubt not lasted long without the Man's aid, but still!

Pellavan tried to look sorry as the Man scolded him, but he wasn't really. Or not as far as he should be. "I just don't think it's right to leave her like that, even if she is a Warg".

The Man understood, it seemed, he was just also trying to impart wisdom Pellavan should listen to. An odd concept, a Man imparting wisdom to an Elf, but Pellavan was still young and he wouldn't have said it was out of the question anyway. Men had their own skills and wisdom. If not as many years, generally.

Their actions had worked, though, and Nyx was firmly hindered from taking her revenge for any of it, much to her snarling chagrin!

As Arthfael stepped forward, Pellavan just watched the Warg, his face a bit unreadable, so it being unclear if he was now nervous about his self assigned mission. In truth he wasn't sure if he was or not, but that small flare of sympathy that had caused his actions wasn't in any way diminished by her ingratitude.

It’s clear to me, That the boy wants to remove the threat I made good on. But I don’t think you’re gonna let that happen, are you?

Nyx strained at the ropes again, but they didn't budge, and the two had tied them so that her jaws could not reach them no matter how she tried. She glowered, and was about to answer to the first, when he went on, with words that stalled the prideful assurance of independence she'd been about to give.

But I think he won’t sleep well tonight if he doesn’t… and I don’t think you want a young Elf following you all over Middle-Earth just to remove a thorn in your paw. So you’re gonna let him remove that arrow…

Surely he wouldn't...but what if he did?

Nyx snarled again, but pondered. "Well...seems you've left me little choice...!", was not quite agreeing to it...

For the sake of it being over with quickly, she stopped struggling as the boy walked up.

Pellavan bent and inspected, talking half to her and half out-loud as he worked, gently (or as gently as he could) removing the arrow and next putting a salve he'd brought over the wound caused and bandaging it. "Don't worry, this'll just fall off when it's ready...", he explained, "You know...I don't blame you Wargs for being bitter. You don't have it the best, and everyone just expects you to be evil because Morgoth made you that way, probably, I don't know which is the real story either...but you don't have to be, you know? And it's impressive you learned Westron...just, well, proved you could probably do anything!".

Nyx didn't reply to any of the boy's chatter, except for a small scowl, and instead just watching the Man with his arrow pointed at her carefully.

Finishing up, Pellavan sighed at the silence (though he also wasn't surprised, not really) and stood back. "Well, there you go...". The Elf child next glanced to Arthfael. Now what did they do?

No doubt able to read the unsure atmosphere, the Warg sighed, "If you're expecting a thanks for all this, since you only had to do it because he shot me!...I'll give it by not eating either of you"[/font], she promised through grit teeth, "now let me out of this before someone sees!".
Chat & Games / Why Gard Shouldn't Read (Percy Jackson) equals games!
« Last post by Gard on August 30, 2020, 10:09:30 PM »
So probably a fun thought experiment, or I explored it personally as I began reading the Percy Jackson series. If our characters were at Camp Half-Blood, where would they fit/if they were demigods which Olympian would be their parent etc?

I'm not exactly suggesting this turns into another AU, we might have enough of those :D, but in some ways, and since some of our characters already have Valar they patronize etc this is as easy or easier than HP House sorting!

Though even I debated as you'll see. I think they would go with their HP names too, for the most part.

First Bilbo and Nyx. Similar to HP, where he's a teacher, I would make Bilbo/Bob a satyr at the camp watching out for the kids lol.

Much as I'm tempted to just give Nyx to Hades cabin (and she would maybe have to go by Lynn since there is a greek Nyx :D or maybe not) for her, I am more amused by the thought of a young Fury (with the benefit of not looking like a hag) who for some reason is under restriction enough to be trusted in camp (locked in mortal form probably) and has to help at camp as part of her punishment etc. She probably gave Hades sass like an unruly teen when he told her to do something. :D So yeah she would fill Mr. D's position from the books. Complete with wrong names only on purpose lol

I'm tossing out the Big Three rule for this thought experiment and...

Nauroval/Nicole and Harper are Zeus Cabin of course :D

Gard/Grant and Wes can go to Poseidon.

Ah dear Saga/Sarah, do you belong with Aphrodite or Hera? :D Hera has had kids, and again if I threw out the Big Three rule I threw out hers with it so Hera it is!

Kargach/Caleb would be Hermes.

Líknví/Lindsay I would give to Hestia, which I know is tricky as a virgin goddess same as Hera but I would pull a Maui and have her endow the girl with powers/take her in etc. Did I say I've thought about this too much, cause I have :D

Pellavan/Byron, ok as the goddess of the hunt, Artemis seems not quite right, but I'll go with her. The boy does understand the life cycle.

May goes to Demeter of course.

So for the Anliv clan, I would throw the Olympians under the bus before I throw Anlaf and Liv (Alvin and Liz?) :D They do trick mortals and take the form of their spouses (or is that just Zeus? :D) so let's just say they did that and give...

Dagmar/Dawn to Athena.

Fritz. While I am tempted to say Hephaestus...if I kept him on Anlaf's side and picked a goddess let's say Artemis!

Ok now that that madness is done... :D
Graphics & Fan Works / Re: Becca's Drabbles and One Shots
« Last post by Glorfindel on August 30, 2020, 04:09:20 PM »
The scent of smoke, blood, and death hung heavy over the refugees as they fled through the tunnel to escape the burning ruined city that was once Gondolin. Glorfindel was grim as he led his now small band of warriors from the House of the Golden Flower as the rearguard to protect the Noldor in their escape. It wouldn’t be long before their exit was noticed as they crossed over the Cirith Thoronath and Glorfindel wasn’t at all sure they could survive another onslaught. They had already lost so many: especially Turgon and his dear friend Ecthellion. But Tuor and Idril seemed to be up for the challenge of leading their band of survivors.

There was a sharp cry of eagles as the majestic birds circled overhead and if things weren’t so dire, he might even smile, though he was sure at the moment it would be more of a grimace more than anything  resembling a true smile. There was little to smile about the last few days and he doubted there would be for sometime for the survivors of Gondolin. There would always be scars, and not just ones that blemished the skin. There was another sharp cry and seemed to be more urgent and spoke of danger.

And he and the rest of the refugees saw what the eagles had seen: Orcs and another Balrog. And Glorfindel knew what he had to do. Someone needed to stop the Balrog so the others escaped. The eagles were already in motion to help drive back the orcs but they stood no chance against the Balrog. ”Tuor! Idril! Lead them to safety.” And with grim determination, Glorfindel stood to face the beast of flame and shadow, waving those of his house back as he prepared himself for the fight, the fight that he was sure would end his life.

The battle was fast, furious, and bloody. Glorfindel was fast and quick, darting in and out like lightening. He managed to cut off one of its arms at the elbow and then stabbed it in the stomach, which proved to be the fatal blow. He had been injured but he also thought his victory was complete as the Balrog fell off the side of the pass, headed for the ground far, far below. But as it started to fall, it grabbed onto his flowing, golden locks and yanked him down with him. And as he fell and watched the  fast approaching rocky ground with an oddly morbid detachment, Glorfindel did not feel triumph at his deeds, for they were as bitter as the strongest Dwarven beer. All he could feel was peace. Though there was a brief moment of searing pain as his body hit the ground below. And there was nothingness.

And despite the pain of the impact, when the Eagles found and returned his body, there was a peaceful smile on his pale lips.
The Blue Mountains / Re: Open Communication
« Last post by Dagmar on August 26, 2020, 02:57:42 PM »
Dags nodded as Líknví shared about how stunned she had been at how far the sky expanded up and up. That was usually the first thing a Dwarf had to come to terms with on their first visit. The concept of there not being an end to the expanse above! For better or worse. Some found it vulnerable. Dags had always loved it.

It was hard to read Líknví's actual feelings from what she said, but given what she wrote...

Dagmar smiled at the compliment given in the midst of Líknví's other words. "Thank-you, and I know just what you mean...", she whispered softly, and didn't shy away from hard topics. "I once told Prince Fíli, after he lost his own father very young, that he shouldn't be sorry for how everyone said he took after him, because it just meant there was a piece of him he could take with him all the time...and yet, while I still believe that...I also know better how hard it still is to push aside association at first".

She'd once been afraid Fíli's sadness would rob the sunshine from his laughter and smile, and after his own death, she'd feared to lose the same in all their old haunts Outside, but she'd soon also found the comfort in the reminders. Still and always mixed of course.

"Knowing what I do about them both, I think both allusions fit both Kvasir and Rian perfectly also", Dags smiled, and helped move the conversation over to lighter topics.

Well, and in keeping with both of us focusing on the good of your own travels, any interesting stories there?", Dags asked with a smile, "I realized I never got probably half of the interesting tales you have, from that or other things, and now that we're sisters we have to fix that".

Of course there could be much about Líknví's life and growing up she wouldn't count as good, but Dagmar knew her enough to know she found the good in everything as well, and...despite the bad sort of went without saying, or the sunny maiden hoped it did.
Other Times; Other Places / Re: come morning light, you & i'll be safe & sound
« Last post by Celeborn on August 20, 2020, 04:47:48 AM »
Celeborn was absolutely thrilled that his discussion the previous year about what to do between Elu’s stallion and his own mare had born fruit, or in this case a colt. The young one had been born a few days ago, and still had yet to be named. As the rider of the mare, it probably should have been his purview but he had acquiesced to his great-uncle’s request to name the foal. Not that this was the first time Gwaedal had foaled, having already done it twice before this one. So he knew what to look for in terms of trouble, for both foal and dame.

He generally preferred to go early in the morning to visit Gwaedal normally, and nothing had changed with the birth of her foal. He knew his white-coated horse rather enjoyed apple and that the foal seemed to enjoy the apple slice as well. So he had come prepared to pamper both his rather spirited but behaved  mare and her just as spirited foal, slicing an apple though Gwaedal would get most of it, assuming the colt wanted any. Plus, visiting the herd always helped settle his mind. And hopefully distract himself from thoughts of Artanis. He had yet to write the note Thranduil had suggested, though with everything going on with the foal, it was hardly surprising.

The silver-haired prince arrived at the pasture where Elu and the rest of the royal family kept their horses and his gray eyes immediately sought his horse, white coat noticeable, though he quickly frowned when he found her offspring not nearby her. But he wasn’t worried since she was not stressed, alert but worried. His gaze followed Gwaedal’s and he was pretty sure he lost his breath when he saw her, Artanis. Not only was she breathtakingly beautiful but the fact the colt was willingly interacting with a stranger, when it was even a little cautious with him, despite his mother’s trust of Celeborn, was rather remarkable.

Instead of his original intent of going over to his mare, Celeborn stood transfixed by the sight, staying in the shadows to not disturb the scene, though he kept half an eye on Gwaedal for any signs of distress. He frowned when the colt was a little too eager for attention and essentially shoved the fair lady until the ground, only to settle on the ground next her, her slipper sailing to the ground some ways away from the pair of them. It was then that Celeborn made his way easily towards Gwaedal, the mare coming to him with a simple click of his tongue. She chuffed against his shoulder as he whispered his greetings to her.

Artanis’s words about the colt being rude and bossy made him snort in amusement as he stroked the mare’s head. ”Much like both his sire and dame, though the former is the rude one while the latter is the bossy one.” The was said with affectionate bemusement and an apple slice as way of apology. He glanced at her and then her slipper. ”You seem to have lost your slipper, milady.” This was said with considerable amusement. And if to prove his earlier words about his mare, she chuffed rather impatiently for more apple, which he obliged with a wry shake of his head.
Other Times; Other Places / come morning light, you & i'll be safe & sound
« Last post by Galadriel on August 19, 2020, 11:16:30 AM »
Though Elves did not need sleep, or not a great deal of it anyway, Artanis had felt from the moment they'd crossed the girdle of Meilian that she could easily sleep a thousand years, and then some. Not forever, perhaps, for to succumb as such was never to be in her nature, but she'd have liked a thousand years of it, and no less. And not because of any real sense of safety, either; they had long left the Western realms willingly, the Helacraxe reduced to naught now but a nightmare, but that did not lessen the sense of displacement. Nor could she ignore the underlying tension, though she felt sometimes only she saw it with clear eyes, between the disparate elf kin despite the display of open arms from Elwë Singollo and in kind, the acceptance of Fëanor.

It was still early days, though.

Too early, she felt, impatience characteristic even in the fog of ambiguity and uncertainty. It had pulled her from sleep, the sense of disorientation, though whether it was borne from not knowing where she was at first or the cold, cold nightmare that still burned itself into her waking vision was debatable. 'He's dead, 'Tani. Let him down.'

The whisper of the nightmare come with the bile of a grief she would never, ever show to even the most circumspect of the Hidden King's court was swallowed down hard, Artanis forcing her mind to come back to her body once more so that it could register, finally, that they were in the rooms given to Finwe's children and not the searing, frozen path of the Helacraxe; that the cold she felt was not cutting ice but the floor where she'd fallen from her bed, cold with the morning of the early springtime. So early that the sun was barely more than a haze of orange lining the horizon, but Artanis drug herself to her knees, shivering with fever dream as much as literal cold as she shuffled necessarily, but still embarrassingly, on the aforementioned to her cloak and the soft slippers she'd worn the night before. She had no desire to wake her brothers, but it was only her brothers who knew best that the proud, upright Noldo Princess of these last several nights had trembled on pained feet if left alone too long, had held tightly to Finrod's arm and evaded any offer to dance not simply because of hubris or arrogance.

The problem there, of course, was that she was left only to rely on herself in the here and now. And so she quite simply did, allowing herself a wince in the privacy of the bedroom as she slipped the soft shoes over her bandaged feet, letting herself grit her teeth as she pushed herself to her feet with the sheer will of one who wanted to escape the heaviness of their dreams-- memories...both, inexorably intertwined. The worst kind of dreams.

With no support but her own, Artanis was left to limp for the open air she sought. Providence, or perhaps Varda herself, watched over her in this instance though; her journey mercifully free at this time of day of potential encounters. Once she'd alighted into the gardens though, she paused, unsure of where she might now go, feeling however that sitting here in the aforementioned, though unpleasant, was somehow unfinished. Not giving up, perhaps stubbornness some on her part, but it just...wasn't what she wanted. And she never did what she didn't want to do. Even though, in this case, pain was a strong motivator and-- oh!

Well then. She didn't know Doriath well quite yet, or Elu Thingol's halls, but what she did know was the scent of horse. Her keen nose picked up the familiarity amid the unfamiliar, her heart as keen, ravenous even, for the solid comfort promised by such companionship. It took her a moment, given how disinclined her feet were to move on their own so she might explore, to gain a clear idea of which way she was headed, but once assured, Artanis pushed her way through the small break in the hedgerow, ignoring the tug of the branches at her night clothes in favour of the absurdly childish pleasure that was discovering the little path well-worn it seemed, but otherwise hemmed in either side by forest. It gave her leave to bumble along as gracelessly as she pleased on her cut up feet, tracking what she sought until, finally, it filled her vision before she.

She was as absurdly pleased to discover that where Finwe's children had been given rooms was, it appeared, within such short walking distance to the fields these royal horses preferred-- should one know that little trail existed. And royal they were, these beasts; it was in every line of their wondrous bodies, even the mares who were heavily pregnant and the stubby, tiny foal that looked, it seemed, to be the first one born of the season.

It was watching her with pricked ears, the foal. Eyes alight with the curiousity of the young and the innocent, and Artanis yearned to reach for the scrubby, fuzzy fur, run her fingers over satin hide and seek comfort in the world through the silk of a horse's mane. But these horses were not hers to be so familiar with, the careful way the mare who must be the mother of the foal also watched her a lovely, if painful reminder of that. So with a soft sigh, Artanis made herself accept the joy of their presence alone, closing her eyes and leaning against the tree nearest her. It didn't quite relieve her feet, but she didn't fancy trying to get up from the ground either if she sat down.

How long she was there, she'd no idea, save that the sun had begun to filter weakly through her eyelids. It was long enough, it appeared, for curiousity on gangly little legs to venture forth, and it was only elvish stillness that kept her from startling them both when she felt whiskers and the huff of breath on her belly. The foal-- colt, a quick glance underneath told her-- blew loudly when her gaze fixed on him, but he stood his ground-- boldness and imperiality in infancy. And, Artanis felt, a little wickedness; there was something in the babe's eye that made her want to smirk, even as he stood on caution-stiff legs.

Little ears swiveled back, then forward, then the same again, each time at the soft, short but musical whistle drifted from the stranger before him. Sniffed carefully, then drew back, from a hand finally offered. And then all at once did he glance one last time at a mother still watchful but not alarmed, before pushing his head into Artanis's hand. The answering smile was no less warm in its dream weariness, though wan it still was, Artanis's long fingers making quick and familiar work of the itchy spots so often on horses. Though young enough to be nowhere near shedding his foal fuzz for glossy adult hide, the colt still groaned in pleasure, pushing himself closer-- too much so, and it was with a pained yelp that Artanis lost her own unsteady footing to land hard on her behind. Quite literally lost at that, one of her slippers sailing in the air a short distance as she was pushed backwards.

The foal had come with her though, and after a startled look, he'd immediately decided that lying down was as perfect a place to be as any. Her pained yelp turned to a startled laugh as he rubbed his head against her hands peremptorily, attending obediently to scratches while he stretched his gangly, dark little body against her.

"You are rude, little one," she murmured admonishingly in Noldo, before realisation turned her tongue to Sindar for the horse's sake. "Rude and bossy."

And she, utterly belying herself when she scratched an itchy shoulder a moment longer, allowing the ache in her feet to settle before she wrapped her arms tightly around the compact little foal body. Sighing deeply into his neck; the warmth of him not quite able to drive the cold entire away, for he couldn't hug her back. But it was still...something, in this unfamiliar, displaced place.
IC / Re: Don't Underestimate the Dangers of Flour
« Last post by May Gamgee on August 14, 2020, 08:23:41 PM »
She hadn't given her last name, May realized, as the Elf gave her full title. Then again, even with it, May Gamgee of the Shire still wasn't all that impressive...

And she did give it when she gave her father's name later.

Ava was a nice name, and not that Alvelin of Lindon's full name, or Alvy, wasn't also, but the nickname fit an Elf, May thought, and despite still going off of biased glamorous tales.

The mention of Farmer Maggot sparked recognition! "Ah, Farmer Maggot's. I just came that way myself, down the Marish; through the Old Forest; from Bree. I have seen his face a few, though not as old as he is now, the first time we met."

Farmer Maggot had met an Elf and failed to mention it?! Of course he was under no obligations to do such, but still! May looked startled next, and even if it was perhaps not all that surprising. Neighbors would have kept the news to themselves, and she was still quite young compared to other, older Hobbits of the Shire (not directly thinking of Mister Bilbo) a lot probably had happened before her birth.

"You've been through the Shire before, Miss Ava?", she asked. Never-mind what the Elf had said about coming through the Old Forest, and from Bree! Of course there were few other ways to the Shire but through Bree, really. Still, it made her current conversation partner, and now agreed to guest, a wider traveler than May usually encountered.

Again, not counting Mister Bilbo, and his story being excluded to one trip, though he had a wealth of stories from it! Stories most adults didn't really think were true, but May did, as she knew Sam and some of the others no doubt did as well.

May had very few reservations about how quickly she had extended her invitation towards Alvelin, and good thing too, because if she paused to think about it she wouldn't blame either of her parents, nor brothers, for calling her a fool for the thought, never-mind going through with it!

But it was one that seemed right to her somehow, and trusting to her instincts.

"Where shall I begin? Closer to home, like the Old Forest? Or Bree? Or perhaps something farther out, like…Rohan? Or Gondor? Oh, the Corsairs! Have you ever heard of pirates?"

And, straight after the question, her guest launched into sharing some sea-shanties! May was so intrigued by this latter, she let it be the sort of redundant answer, at least for the moment, though she pondered which of the other options she wanted to ask Ava about first! Mister Bilbo had shared some of the songs the Dwarves would sing, but these sea-shanties were different.

"I've heard there's many places where Men sail", May answered, "and some trouble makers in that, I suppose, but most of what I've heard is down to what the neighbors have thought they saw or Mister Bilbo Baggins, says he had quite the adventure, but not with Corsairs".

"Have you an interest in gardening, like your father?"

"Oh yes!", now Alvelin had gotten May off on a topic she knew well. "Hobbits have green thumbs in general, but my family very much so, and watching the spring flowers come in, and helping them along is something I enjoy very much!". May smiled. Though she had been born towards the end of spring, and in may, hence her name, she also felt it fit for her to enjoy such.

"Light cooking also, though there I'm not sure but I might just enjoy being useful more than the actual activity, though it's not too tedious. Baking now!", she laughed, "I'm afraid I'm hopeless there".

{I almost skipped them ahead to the house, but didn't want to rush Alvelin's stories, though feel free to in your next reply if it seems to go that direction, otherwise I probably will in my next, however <3}
Character Applications / [Hobbit] Nori
« Last post by Nori on August 12, 2020, 03:14:26 PM »

NAME: Nori
DATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF T.A. 2941/3019): T.A 2809
PLACE OF BIRTH: on the road to Ered Luin
RACE:  Dwarf

OVERALL APPEARANCE:  brownish blue tunic brown over jacket
WEAPONS: Staff, Fleshing Knife, Dual Daggers, Regal Mace and Shield
FACE CLAIM: Jed Brophy

STRENGTHS:  stealth. Sweet talking.
WEAKNESSES:  heights and deep water.
ASPIRATIONS:  finding a place for his family to live out of poverty   
FEARS:  deep water
PERSONALITY:  Nori is a sly and sneaky dwarf. He has built up and emotional mask to keep himself looking “professional” in his line of work. He used to have ori’s innocents and curiosity but he grew out of this at a young age without a choice, at having to start stealing. He is loyal to his family and the little friends he has. He is cheeky. He has a secret passion for drawing in his spare time. He does not read because he never bothered to learn. Nori has never liked staying in one place and likes to travel. He tends to be softer around ori.

HISTORY:  nori was born on the road to Ered Luin and spent his childhood there. He never knew his father because he left as soon as he found out about nori. Even so Nori took after his father in many ways with his lean body type. He had to start stealing and thieving at a young age since his family was plagued with poverty. He hated Dori’s mothering behavior deeming it as controlling and smothering. He feels like Dori does not give ori enough room to grow. He got caught a few times when he was young but has yet to be caught and punished as an adult. When his mother died from a plague going around erid Luin he steeled himself away and blocked out many of his inner emotions. This has since further damaged his and Dori’s relationship and put strain on his and baby ori. Their relationship is no longer strained after time away. He has yet to come to terms with his mother’s death even though it happened long ago. He still suffers with the fear of abandonment.
through out the quest for erebor, Nori tried his hardest to become closer with dori. because of his past, his and dori haven't had a close relationship. nori also tried to get to know ori more because he was absant throughout half of his life

YOUR NAME:  keelee
AGE:  16
EXPERIENCE:  been doing creative writing for 3 years and role-playing off and on for the last 2
CONTACT:  What's the best way for us to reach you?  PM, e-mail, AIM, carrier pigeon?
Nori's sly eyes looked for his family around the fire. the small inkling at the back of his mind reminded him that they where only three now. he knew of dori's dislike of the idea of the adventure. Nori could hear dori's fussing and ori's whining from the log he was sitting on.
he knew he should not say anything and he was barley suppressing the eager thought toyell at his brother to leave ori alone

Start here... / Re: OOC Sign Up
« Last post by Estë on August 12, 2020, 02:03:27 PM »
You're good to go and welcome again!
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