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 Post subject: Simbelmynë
PostPosted: August 6th, 2009, 2:47 pm 
Maia
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<center> Simbelmynë </center>

<center> The world of Men stands upon the brink of destruction. There are few free countries left now to stand against the might of Sauron. The country of Rohan, land of the Horse-Lords, stands quite vulnerably alone; as is all too clear to it’s people, the old alliances are dead and vanished. They now must stand and fight, or face their utter ruin.
But before the Rohirrim can fight once more, their ageing king, Théoden, must be awakened from the crippling spell of Saruman the White, the puppet of Sauron, who now mercilessly attacks Rohan in his desire for power. Grima Wormtongue, the snake-like servant of the corrupted wizard, must be banished from the city of Meduseld.
The freedom of Rohan must be obtained before it is too late, and the lands of the Rohirrim fall to the hands of evil… </center>


“My lady, there is something I must inform you of.”
Éowyn looked up wearily from her cousin’s bedside. Her young face was marked with pain and fatigue. She had not left Théodred’s side for hours now, afraid that if she should he might suddenly slip away from the living world. Her lady in waiting looked at her worriedly; the news she had for her would very probably distress her further.
“What is it?” Éowyn said quietly.
Spring went to her side. She knelt down beside her and reached out for one of her pale, slender hands. Éowyn watched her silently, expecting the worst. “Tell me,” she said. “You need not worry.”
“My lady,” Spring said, “I do not quite know how to tell you this, but I must. Your brother…” she paused. “…your brother, Lord Éomer, has been banished.” She watched Éowyn’s expression cloud with anger.
“Banished?” she said sharply. “At who’s order?”
“The king’s,” Spring replied. She paused for a few moments. “In reality… Grima Wormtongue’s. His wickedness has so befuddled the king’s mind that he would have signed any document presented before him.”
Éowyn’s golden head dropped. “So, it has come to this.” She took a deep breath. Spring held her hand tightly.
“My lady,” she said softly, “he will return. He will.”
At that, Éowyn’s head lifted. “Not whilst Wormtongue remains,” she said simply. “It will take a miracle. The evil of that man… to rob me of my brother whilst I barely have my cousin.” She glanced at Théodred and gently stroked his pale face. “My poor uncle. He does not even realise…” she shook her head. “…he does not even realise how ill poor Theodred is.”
Spring did not say a word. There was nothing she could say to mend this terrible situation. All she could do was to remain by her lady’s side, to offer some little comfort. Éowyn looked at her, her grey-blue eyes flickering.
“I am grateful to you for telling me,” she said. “Now I know I am truly alone.”
“You have me,” Spring said. “Lady Éowyn, you will always have me.”
Éowyn gave a little smile. Spring knew in her heart that the company of a lady in waiting would never be enough. But Éowyn did not reflect Spring’s thoughts in her words.
“And I thank you for your loyalty,” she said, very quietly. “As always.”
Spring smiled and gripped Éowyn’s hand. They sat there together, in silence, keeping watch over the severely ill son of the king, who lay there, whose father could not even comprehend the fact that his son was dangerously close to death.

~~~

<center> Name: Spring
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Race of Men
Homeland: Rohan
Appearance: http://www.sweetandtalented.com/images/ ... iles43.jpg
Personality: Quiet, but fiercely intelligent. She observes everything that goes on around her, though she keeps her head down. She is loyal above everything to the Lady Éowyn, her mistress, who she has served since their childhoods. She longs for a time when danger might leave their lands, so the Rohirrim can live in peace; but she also has an acute knowledge that a time will come when they must fight. She cannot bear arms like the Lady Éowyn, but she secretly wishes she could wield a sword.
History: Spring was the daughter of a Rohan lord and lady who died in an orc ambush when she was eight years old. She was taken in by her grandmother, a kindly woman who raised her in her own home. At the age of ten, she became a lady in waiting to Lady Éowyn, who was only a couple of years older than her. Spring admired Éowyn’s bravery and strength and wanted to be just like her; but as she grew to know her more she also realized that there was also a cold fragility about her. Both of them had been orphaned, so they related to each other quite well. Since then Spring has served her faithfully, and watched with her the growing danger entering the lands of Rohan. </center>

<center> ~RULES~
- This RP is set in The Two Towers! It begins when Éomer has been banished by Grima Wormtongue. Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli will be travelling to Rohan and can be brought into the RP :) Then we can go on from there!
- No God-moding, obviously!
- You can take more than one character, OC, canon or both
- For this RP we still need the following canon character…
~ Théoden
- Above all, have fun!
</center>

<center> ~Characters~
Spring – played by ~Goldleaf~
Éowyn – played by ~Goldleaf~
Éomer - played by Nerissa
Léoma - played by Nerissa
Aragorn - played by SilverRose
Gandalf - played by Maethoriel
Gimli - played by Maethoriel
Legolas - played by Maethoriel
Maethoriel - played by Maethoriel
Derelm - played by Nauriel Rochnur
</center>

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Last edited by ~Goldleaf~ on August 10th, 2009, 1:37 pm, edited 11 times in total.

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 Post subject:
PostPosted: August 7th, 2009, 11:45 am 
Balrog
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Heeeeeeey! Could I possibly take on Éomer and an OC? :) I'll have the OC's bio up soon.

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PostPosted: August 7th, 2009, 11:47 am 
Maia
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Of courseee! :-D I shall add you :)

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PostPosted: August 7th, 2009, 3:44 pm 
Istari
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Eeep! You reserved my darling Aragorn for me? I accept! :-D This is going to be so much fun. A/E love awaits! heehee

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PostPosted: August 7th, 2009, 11:22 pm 
Ringwraith
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I can have a wizard, dwarf and oc? Possibly an elf prince too if no one wants him?

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PostPosted: August 8th, 2009, 6:53 am 
Maia
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Welcome, Silvery! :-D Added you!

And Maethoriel, great to have you on board :-D I've added all your charries! Of course you can have Legolas too =)

We still need Theoden, but I might be able to play him if needs be. =) When everyone's got their bios up we can start - and anyone else who might want to join can just jump in :-D

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PostPosted: August 8th, 2009, 2:27 pm 
Vala
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Can I join with an oc? I'll try to have a character up later tonight.


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PostPosted: August 8th, 2009, 4:50 pm 
Maia
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Sure you can :-D Added you to the list!

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PostPosted: August 8th, 2009, 11:55 pm 
Vala
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Name: Derelm (may change later...)
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Race of Men
Homeland: Rohan
Appearance:
Personality: A bit of a joker, Derelm is very laid back. However, he uses his ample sense of humor as a way to avoid conflict. He often makes light of grave situations, because he feels uncomfortable showing emotions that are tied to such heavy matters.
History: What fun is it if I tell you now?


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PostPosted: August 10th, 2009, 2:22 am 
Ringwraith
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Oh, my OC is probably going to be Maethoriel because she is everywhere.

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PostPosted: August 10th, 2009, 1:36 pm 
Balrog
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All right, here's the OC bio. :)

Name: Léoma
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Race: Race of Men
Homeland: Rohan
Appearance: Pic
Personality: Quiet, calm, and loyal; she prides herself on acting like a perfect lady. Her voice is soft and low, her actions graceful. She is not easily flustered.
History: To be revealed in RP. ;)

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PostPosted: August 10th, 2009, 1:54 pm 
Maia
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(Okay guys, we're starting now! :-D We're starting at the point in TTT when Eowyn sees Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn riding towards Edoras. Then we'll go through to Gandalf releasing Theoden, who I'll play, from Saruman's spell and Wormtongue's banishment :-D And then we carry on from there! :-D
Have fun, everyone! :) )

The great doors of the golden hall of Meduseld atop the city of Edoras burst open for Éowyn, niece of the king. Feeling the breeze hit her face and her hair, an expression of sheer anguish and despair formed on the lovely, wintry features of the young woman. She was clad all in white, and struck a grave, desolate figure standing there alone, the guards standing at the doors beside her, who to her were little more than ghosts, phantom men whose presence could offer her no comfort, not whilst she felt so very alone. She had just come running from the bed chamber of her cousin Théodred.
He was dead. Passed on. Gone from her, forever. She could see his ashen features clearly in her mind, picture his still, lifeless form lying there on his bed. She had kissed his cold hand, wept over him on her knees. And then… he had came in. Grima Wormtongue.
How she hated him, her uncle’s so-called advisor. How had he dared to presume to speak to her in the way he had? How had he dared to presume to touch her cheek? She had closed her eyes against it, almost shivering, trying to find some escape from the misery within her mind. But she had found none as she had tried to endure. His voice had whispered to her in it’s snake-like manner, pouring poison with every word into her ears. She had torn away, broken free, leaving him standing there in Théodred’s room.
She walked over to the edge. When would life change back to the way it had once been, when she had had her brother by her side, her cousin, her uncle in his right mind… all of that was but a memory now, a distant memory she clung to. Tears built up in her eyes but she kept them back from brimming over. She was the lady of Rohan. This would not overcome her.
Far in the distance on the fields of Rohan, she could make out three riders riding towards Edoras. She wondered who they were, who could possibly want to visit this grim place. In one flicker of a moment she hoped wildly that they had come to set her free, then her mind laughed at herself, and her bleak expression remained. It seemed in these dark days no one could set her free. It seemed that no one could ever set Rohan itself free again.

~~~
“What did you say to her?” Spring demanded, facing Wormtongue directly in the hall as he thought to walk past her, as if he could go by without a word from her. He looked at her with mild interest, and she despised him even more. “What did you say to the Lady Éowyn that distressed her so?” she pressed him, determined that she should get an answer. “I saw her run from my lord Théodred’s room. I saw you go in. Tell me what you said to her.”
Her look was ablaze with anger. She was a slight, slim young woman with light golden hair, but she would not step aside. Within her burnt a deep fury that could not be put out easily.
“If I did say something to the king’s niece then it is none of your concern, Lady Spring,” Wormtongue said silkily, his deceitful eyes flickering at her. “I suggest you stand aside and let me through. I must speak with the king.”
“You will tell me!” Spring insisted, her tone rising. “I will not see her upset.”
“Listen to me, my lady.” Wormtongue stepped closer to her, and the scent of unwashed skin hit Spring like a perfume. She recoiled from him but he took her wrist. “I can see you gone from this court, like that.” With his free hand he snapped his fingers. “So I suggest you step back.”
He released her wrist so that she staggered backwards, and he went past her, the hem of his dark robes slithering along the floor. She glared after him, rubbing her wrist, which he had twisted painfully.
It will be I who will see you gone from this court, you snake, Spring said to herself. Never, ever touch me again.
Her expression determined and brimful of anger, she swiftly turned, pale skirts swishing, in the other direction, and walked briskly down the hallway.

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PostPosted: August 11th, 2009, 1:30 pm 
Istari
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Amazing start, Goldie! I don't have very much experience with this, but I'll give it my best shot. :)

Aragorn rode hard, feeling the tole of the long ride upon every muscle in his body. The bay he rode was fit, but the horse gasped for breath as he struggled to climb the hill towards Edoras. Aragorn slowed his mount to a halting trot as he surveyed his surroundings. Though he had seen much and had traveled far, the scene before him surpassed every natural landscape he had seen in his 87 long years. The mountains towered high above the valley, their snowy peaks pointing the way to the clouds that soared overhead. The wind rushed through the valley, and Aragorn could have swore that he heard voices among the hurried puffs of air.

Aragorn turned his gaze towards the hill that rose in the center of the valley and the impressive building that rested upon it. "The hall of Edoras," he breathed. "So this is where our fates lie." He turned to the elf and dwarf who were riding next to him.

"Have you ever seen such a sight, my friends?"

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PostPosted: August 12th, 2009, 12:49 am 
Ringwraith
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(Yay for epically long posts. *takes deep breath* Here we go.)

The four hunters rode swiftly, two horses keeping pace by each other while a white horse more magnificent than any others flew several lengths ahead over the lush green plains. The rider in the lead was a seemingly elderly man in a dark grey cloak.

Those who knew him might find it a bit odd that he lacked his normal head ware, but the elf, dwarf and man who rode with him knew why it was cast aside. This man had braved fire, death and had forsaken the land which would offer him final rest until the world and people he held dear and were entrusted in his care were taken care of. Gandalf the Grey was no more, in his place was Gandalf the White and though very near in appearance this Gandalf was more learned, perhaps more stern and less jovial than his previous form had been. And in his own way he mourned the loss of simple pleasure that would not be his for many more months to come.

He requested that Shadowfax pause in his running as they had begun to near the gate and it wouldn't do to be charging at it. The horse slowed his gate as requested and the old man gazed upward towards the guard.

"We request entrance into Edoras and seek to hold council with King Theoden."

The guard eyed the group warily and then looked to his comrade and he too looked unsure.

---------------------------------

Legolas and Gimli were having a less than merry ride to Rohan's largest city as could be expected when an elf and dwarf were forced to share such close quarters.

"Gimli," came the musical voice of the elf prince steering. "I must request that you lighten your hold of my middle less my breathing cease and we both fall."

The dwarf snorted and looked down at the ground that flowed under the thundering hooves of the horse beneath him.

"I'll let go of naught until this things slows down, Elf."

Legolas turned his head towards the future king as he and his companion were addressed.

"It is certainly an impressive sight to behold," he agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. "There have been few cities able to hold my attention. It is fresher than Gondor, I am sorry to say my friend."

"I can't see anything from here. We'll have to wait til we're inside for my answer, lad. As for fresher, it might be, but the architecture of Gondor was impressive even by my standards. Which are, admittedly, high," the dwarf said with a smirk.

"It is to be expected from a race such as yours, mellon nin," Legolas said, and his usually toneless words held some amusement now, which perhaps saved the prince from a good verbal lashing from his riding companion.

---------------------------------

Maethoriel was having a horrid time fitting into the city of horse lords. When she was younger she fancied herself decent with the creatures, but now it seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her. That might be fitting though, considering her circumstances.

Not only was she standing out as she normally did, but there were none that she even recognized in this city. Rohan held less interest to her than even Gondor and it was seldom that she visited either land, but all the scoundrels she had befriended before seemed to be out of commission in some way or another: death, prison, a combination of the two and simple old age were the general reasons.

So, there the woman sat on the side of muddy road, clutching her cane in a bloody and scraped palm, her tight grip doing nothing for the bloody knuckles attached to it. Maethoriel had been destitute before, but this had reached a new level. She'd been drifting in and out of conscious reasoning for some day or two now. There had been a battle - that was not surprising, the woman's whole existence was swept away in the art of war. Battles cropped up about her when there seemed to be no trouble at all.

But this had been different. For all her tricks the immortal was still susceptible to death by sword, even if she had a bit more resilience. It seemed someone had gotten wise, or lucky, and poisoned their spear. Tricky things, she let out a wheezing laugh. Should have guessed it. Whatever the stuff was it wasn't good as she remained alive, but even her grip on that was tenuous at best right now.

She absently dug through a pouch at her waist and grabbed out a pipe and weed for it. It took a bit more concentration to mutter the word to light it, but it lit and in the end that is all she wanted. So, she sat and waited for something like a miracle or even a curse to come along her path and give her another, not so well deserved chance.

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PostPosted: August 12th, 2009, 7:49 am 
Maia
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The guard looked at the four travelers who had ridden up to the gates of Edoras, frowning. He recognized the wizard, for sure; Gandalf the Grey had once been a welcome visitor of the king. But times had changed, those who had once been looked upon as friends were now seen as enemies. Welcomes which had long endured were now worn out, useless. He glanced at the other guard, who looked back at him mutely, and he finally glanced back at Gandalf and his companions.
Whatever the new rule thought – that of Wormtongue – Gandalf had done no harm before, except for daring to take the most beloved of the king’s horses, Shadowfax. But that was not exactly a crime punishable by death, was it?
“You may pass these gates, Gandalf Greyhame, if you intend no harm,” he finally said. “At the gates of Meduseld you will be asked to set aside your weapons, for we cannot allow you an audience with the king if you are armed as you are.”
He nodded to the other guard, who lifted his head and gave a loud call to the guards on the other side of the gate. From within, bars of the gate were wrenched across, and the gates swung open.
The guard looked Gandalf in the eye, attempting to take the measure of him, to see if his choice to let him in had been right; but this guard was only a mortal man, with no extraordinary perception of any kind. Trying to figure out the wizard’s intentions was like wading through mud.
He finally gave a short nod and looked at all of the travelers. “You may pass into Edoras.”

~~~
Wormtongue seated himself beside the throne of the king, his black robes giving a snake-like hiss. His bony hand clutched at the arm-rest of the throne and he leaned forward. The king did nothing to push him away; in his spelled state he trusted Wormtongue. The serpentine advisor leaned forward further.
“My king,” he whispered, “I believe you did right in signing the banishment order of your nephew. Had you let him stay here he would have caused unknown mischief. He is a danger. A threat to your rule, sire. I believe he would tear you from your throne if he were given the chance to plot against you from within…”
The king gave a small murmur. He glanced at Wormtongue, seeking assurance of this lie. Wormtongue nodded gravely.
“Yes, sire. If he returns to Edoras you must not let him back through the gates. Or if he should force himself through, you would have to carry through your promise. He is banished by pain of death.”
Théoden shifted slowly in his seat. He gave a tiny nod of his head. Wormtongue smiled.
“You are always wise, sire,” he said.
Unknown to Wormtongue, someone was listening to him pouring more poison into the king’s ear. In an adjacent corridor to the hall, Spring leaned forward to catch his words. They only just came to her, carried over like a chilly breeze. How could he lie about Théoden’s nephew so blatantly?
There was one thing everyone in Rohan knew but was not allowed to say; Éomer was loyal to his uncle, more loyal than anyone. His only fault had been getting on the wrong side of Wormtongue. He had been a barrier to Wormtongue’s plans, and so he had had to go. Spring had watched him and his men ride from Edoras, heart sinking. He would be leagues away by now. He had been their last hope.
Anxious not to be caught listening, Spring tip-toed away down the corridor. Something here had to change. And it had to change soon, else Rohan would tip over the edge of ruin.

~~~
Éowyn could see everything from here, the plains sweeping across the horizon, the mountains beyond; but she could not see the three riders she had spotted some moments ago. She supposed that they had ridden up to the gate, and it was being decided if they should be allowed entrance to Edoras or not. She didn’t know why, but she hoped they would be allowed in. She did not know who they were or why they had came, but she needed some difference from the usual, numb day to break into her cold life.
The breeze rushed past her, shivering her golden hair. She would stay out here as long as was possible. She could not bear to go inside, not yet; inside Meduseld she felt so trapped, like a caged bird. Up here she felt as if she could almost step out into the air.

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PostPosted: August 19th, 2009, 11:37 am 
Balrog
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((If it's okay with you, Goldy, I don't think I'm going to bring Éomer in until Théoden's free from Grima, since I'm not really sure where to put him at the moment.))

Léoma slid silently through the labyrinth of streets that led to the Golden Hall. Having only been in town for two days, she had hardly begun her visits to her friends and relatives. How nice it had been of her aunt and uncle to invite her to stay with them! She hadn't been here in such a long time, it seemed. There were so many people to see, and so many wonderful things to do! Yet this place was certainly not what it used to be. There was an air hanging over the place... an air of fear, uncertainty, mistrust... something that had not been there during her previous visit. The nearer she came to the Golden Hall, the more it intensified. She did not dare to say it aloud, but she knew that this had to do with Grima Wormtongue.

Looking up towards her destination, which was fast approaching, she saw the Lady Eowyn storm out. She stopped briefly to watch her, pitying her, and yet realizing that something more must be wrong. Léoma had known that Théodred was gravely wounded, but she knew now that his sufferings were over. She pressed her hands to her heart and bowed her head in sorrow for the loss of such a fine young noble, and for the pain suffered now by his family. When at last she continued on, doubts nagged at her mind. Spring was hardly anything more than an acquaintance, and surely her lady would be needing her today more than ever. Léoma felt as though she should turn back and save the visit for another day, but trudged on in spite of her misgivings.

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