After an eon of deadline slights and mass confusion, here it is.
Voting format should be as follows:
1. (three points)
2. (two points)
3. (one point)
(honorable mention optional)
Vote for the character (not the username) you think is most developed, rper put most thought into, or simply the one whose personality appeals to you most. Encouragement and critique welcomed!
Turwaithiel Shadeslayer
Name-Turwaithiel Shadeslayer
Translation- Victorious among the Elves, Warrior
Race: Woodlen Elf
Birth Year-SA 1492
Hair-Dark brown
Eyes-Silver
Face-resembles her father...an stern yet cheerful face
Lineage- Mother- Ithilwen (deceased)
Father- Tegalad
Siblings-Veryangóle
Cousin-Rhavaniel
Married?-No
Children?-No
Weapons- Rivendell Bow with Mirkwood Arrows, Lothlorien Wrist Dagger, Archer's Bane Sword, An necklace that shine when darkness reigns
Animals: An White Mare named Tathar
Basic clothing: She almost always wears an battle-like clothes; an pair of light brown breeches, an white undershirt with an light dragonscale silver vest on top.
History- Turwaithiel was born and raised in the Mirkwood Forest. Her mother died giving birth to her and her brother, Veryangóle, whom are the same age. Her father then left them in the care of an old Dunedain Ranger as he left and went to the Valnior. Turwaithiel has been raised as an Knight Archer of the Forest and Protecter of the Leaf. She is repected highly for becoming whom she is now. Her brother is in Rohan now helping the king.
Curunìr
Name: Edwin (second name unknown)
Race: Human
Age: 29
Profession: Red/Neutral Mage
Appreance: Quite thin and sharp formed person, black long hair that reaches his shoulders, a beard(not long) and long mustache, that are wrapped up(or something like that...) , grey eyes, very long and useful hands when it comes to spell casting.
Ablities: all the basics of magic and few other spells, very average mage, but has also a dark side because he has learned necromancy and is able to use few spell from that side, but mostly embrases his neutrality.
Equipment: Red Robe, wooden staff, that has a small Raven figure on top of it and it has a small crystal in it`s claws. a brown leather belt with many bags on it for his magic ingredients and brown leather boots. A red covered book with grey text or some sort.
History: Born into a ordinary merchant family, that travelled the world selling goods and his father was a mage, that had taken the test, but never wanted to become powerful. Edwin learned from his father and his father was more than happy, that Edwin was ready for the test as a 24 year old man. His mother was against it and begged Edwin not to do it, but Edwin had a curiosity for everything new and he took the test, which left him with few scars and horrors, but he had survived it quite well. He lived with his parents for the next 2 year, but then departed to the highest tower of magic to learn more from a master. After 3 years of studying he left the tower for his own quests of knowledge and power...
Nauriel Rochnur
Name: Kith
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Half shapeshifter.
Appearance: Dark completion, dark brown eyes, dark, dark brown hair. Very tall and muscular.
Weapons: Daggers, but he'll use anything he can get his hands on.
Other: Grew in the desert. If ever there was an award for moodiness and a bleak out look on life, he would win
(This is a bit long, but you can make it through! I know you can!)
My name is Kith Darkeyes. My life began pleasantly enough, but took a change for the worse, so turn away if you cannot handle misfortune. As a young little eight year old, I was sold into slavery by my own father, who was horrified and disgusted by the fact I showed the shifting skills of my mother. I remember the clack of chains as they closed around my ankles, and the rusty smell of the metal collar. I wanted to cry out to some one and have them rescue me, but there was no one. My father had betrayed me, and my mother was not to be seen. The slavers laughed, jeering at my scrawniness, saying I would not make and they better just kill me now. Oh, how I puffed out my chest at that. But soon that changed. There was a long grueling journey we had to live through. I once had loved the sun and all her warmth, but with my protective clothing torn off and sold for money, my friend became harsh and cruel. She bit at my back and head, heated the sand beneath me to unbearable temperatures. Along the way I remember seeing bleached white bones of other humans who had not been so fortunate as I. We had to keep up. Horrible things happened to those who couldn't They couldn't just fall down, not with those collars around their necks that kept them connected on the long chain, the same one the tied us together. No, if the couldn't keep up, that collar was emptied, the easiest way being decapitation.
I do not know how long that trek took. Days melded together until my whole body cried for relief that could not be given. The man in back of me egged me on. "You're a strong boy, you'll do fine" He would mutter. I turned around and saw his face.His skin was lighter than any I had seen, and a fey smile shone through cracked and bleeding lips. Most surprising, however, were his eyes. They were the clearest shade of blue I had ever seen. A guard shouted at me, so I quickly turned away. I heard the man behind me chuckle slightly and curse, but whenever I stumbled he was there to offer support.
We reached our destination, but our group was severely cut down. I don't remember much more, except the hard work and hot, cruel sun. I made one friend, only to have him ripped away from me by death. Years passed as a slave, laboring and toiling for things of which we were not told. 15 years passed like this, until I was 23. A new group was to work with us, so our job would be completed sooner. "Very well" I thought. "More vultures." I was not fond of people. I did not speak to them, or them to me. There was too much to think about. But the day came when we were introduced to our new crew, and one man stuck out. His skin was light, a fey smile on his face, and the clearest blue eyes I had ever seen. He stared at me, remembering who I was. "My name is Brengh." He said. "And mine Kith." My underused voice cracked, and I cleared my voice.
Our job went quickly, and we had accomplished a lot by sun down. I was on my blanket, trying to sleep when Brengh sat down beside me. "Kith, my kin, how do you fare?" Kin? Were we kin? "I am not related to you." I murmured. "No," he replied, "But we are both of shapeshifter blood" "What?" I half shouted. "Shapeshifter?" My voice was quiet again. Repressed memories flickered in my mind I felt something new, an alien part of myself. I explored it, touched it, smelled it. Lights flickered, bones creaked. My shape had changed. I was a black panther, tall and strong. Again, I sought that part of me, found another entrance, and I was a bat, and the darkest dark did not scare me. My father.......my father saw me, yelled he- I snapped out of it. "Am I?" I wondered. I never knew much about that part of me. "Yes, you are." He replied. "I can see it in you." His tine of voice changed as he added. "You need a true shifter name, something that means something. My real name is Swiftlegs. I was the fastest of my kind, at least until I was captured, and my shifting ability magically repressed, as is yours. No, your eyes, they are the deepest shade I have ever seen. You name shall be Darkeyes. Darkeyes, I have a plan for escape."
All went to plan. The next week we hurried through the night. Day came, but we ran on. "As soon as we get far enough away the spell will wear off, and we will be able to shift and fly as fast as the animals. This was his favorite remark, the one that would keep us going when we thought we couldn't go any further. The final day, I saw a village on the horizon. Our hopes were raised, until we saw we were being pursued. We were close to the village, but it was clear it would be a very narrow escape. by sundown we were a mere hour away, but so were our pursuers. A mile before the villiage, they caught up with us. They cursed us and tried to bind our hands and feet, but we would not alow them even to touch us. As weary from travel as we were, we knew captivity was worse. But our tiredness had taken its toll. I stumbled, and immediatly I was on my stomach, and men on my back. I heard Brengh growld and hurdle himself towards me. I heard the shrill sound of metal pulled from a sheath, and a sickening impact. Brengh fell to the ground beside my head, a sword run through his throat. I howled. A rage built up in me. All sounds were blocked off. I would not go back to capitivy, were the cruel sun bit, the whip stung, the food hollow my belly, the water crack my lips. I would be free, be alive, live how I wanted to live. Somthing in me ripped, and I felt that alien part of me that I had felt as a boy. I dived in, reveled in it, let it take me. Again I was the black panther, with a rage to match it's terrible size. I tore those men apart, letft thier bleeding remains for the sun, and cruel sand. Brengh I burried, and said a short prayer I made up. From there I decided i would live my own life, free from slavery and oppression. I would be Kith Darkeyes, a man scarred from both pain and suffering, and no one would stop me.
That is my story. Did I tell you all? Probably not. That is somthing you will have to learn. Gain my trust and I may tell you, but my trust is not somthing I give out unless earned by sweat and blood and tears.
Aerandir
Name: Aerandir
Race: Noldor/Sindarin
Age: 538
Eye Color: Grey
Hair Color: Black
Height: 6’10” (2.3 meters)
Weapon(s): A great bow, and a hand-and-a-half sword.
Background: I was born in the land of Nevrast, in the fair city of Vinyamar, not long after Turgon settled there. My father was of the Noldor, one of those who left Valinor, but was then abandonded by Feanor, to cross the Helcaraxe. My mother was a Sindarin maiden of Eglador, who left after Melian the Maia set her fences of power around it, not wishing to be restrained by any barrier. I was raised by the sea, and since I first laid eyes on it, when I was barely old enough to lift my head, I have felt the sea-longing. There was never any doubt in my mind that I wanted to be a mariner. Because I took more to my mother’s side, the Sindarin part of me, I preferred using the bow instead of the sword, though unlike the Sindarin, I did prefer the shapely sword over the heavy axe. When I was only fifteen, not yet having reached my full stature, my father made a beautiful bow for me, a white bow that almost glistened when the sun shone on it. It stood out the more because the bows of the Noldor were normally brown or black, though their fletchings were of all colors. His father, knowing his love of the sea, made his arrows with fletchings of sea colors, light greens and dark blues, though I am unable to say with any honesty at all that that helped to quell the sea longing within me. It has ever been my preference to dress in blues, the color of the waters I love so much.
When I was only twenty years old, my lord Turgon issued a secret decree, declaring that we would move, in secret, to the mountains, where he had a hidden city long in the making. It was his wish that we should call the new city Ondolinde, the Rock of the Music of Water, but in the manner of my people, it was simply called Gondolin. When we left, my heart remained behind, and my thoughts were never far from my home, a constant weight in my mind.
Although Gondolin had many fountains, they served only to deepen my depression, which I knew was felt by many who, like me, were born in Vinyamar, next to the shores of the sea. At times, I would look down as if in a dream on myself, and then my sight would turn far over jagged mountains until it rested upon the beautiful sea once more. This, I am sure, was somehow contrived by the Lord of Waters, who was even then preparing the path my life would follow.
When it seemed that my heart must burst because of the greatness of my desire, Turgon declared that we would leave the safety of our hidden city, and march to battle, in an attempt, orchestrated by Maedhros son of Feanor, to defeat our great foe Morgoth once and for all. If we could have known the name that that battle would receive after its end, maybe we would not have gone. The Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, ended in the utter rout of the Elves and Edain of Hithlum and Dor-lomin, and the death of Fingon the High-king. Many Elves of Gondolin were slain in that battle, but not as many as might have been, thanks to the valour of the men of Dor-lomin. Not a one did flee from that battle, but stood their ground against overwhelming odds, and died, all save one. Hurin Thalion was taken prisoner, and led before Morgoth, whose will he withstood for more than twenty-eight years. Because of the great sacrifice of the Edain, Turgon was able to withdraw and retreat back to Gondolin, from whence we never came again, save a few.
When several more years had passed, Turgon sent messengers out from the leaguer of hills, to travel down Sirion to the havens at Balar, where Círdan had a dwelling. Elves he sent to crew seven ships, all of them those who felt the sea-longing, but I was not one of them. No, I was wounded from a fall while scaling a rock-face, and I could not go. It was my fate to wait for many more years, before I would see my sea again.
Indeed, the time was far closer, when Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountains, brought before the king one of the messengers, by name Voronwe, and also a man, shrouded in a cloak of shadow, yet despite the fact that he was as tall as one of the Elder Children, he had the face of a man. Tuor, the son of Huor, and the nephew of Hurín Thalion, had been sent by the Lord of Waters himself with a warning to the king. While the hearts of many were turned towards leaving, and seeking the havens, the heart of the king was moved by pride, pride in his majestic city, and he resolved to remain.
So it was, that when seven more years had passed, the city was betrayed by the king’s nephew, Maeglin, who desired the king’s daughter, despite the fact that she was wed to Tuor. When the forces of Morgoth came over the hills, I was among those on the wall, for the setting sun was very beautiful. At the first sight of that evil, many fled, the women and children among them, to the innermost part of the city, while the men, the warriors, assembled in their Houses, attiring themselves in their armor. I stayed on the wall, being one of the watchmen of the House of the Heavenly Arch, and within only a very few minutes had loosed all of my arrows into the masses of orcs and wargs, and worse. There were spare quivers on the wall, but even when they were all emptied, still we had barely made even a small dent in the dark army assailing us. The gates were pulled down by great fire drakes, and the warriors of the city were driven back, with great loss on both sides, but while many more orcs were slain than were elves, still it cost them less than it cost us. In the end, despite the fact that Gothmog, the Lord of Balrogs, was slain by the Lord Ecthelion, we were forced to flee. Tuor had prepared a tunnel, in the case of a time such as this, and through it we ran, warriors guarding the front and back. Once we left the tunnel, there was still the rest of the plain to cross, and the mountains, too.
After a long and grievous journey, in which many of the wounded died, or were slain defending the rest, we reached safer lands, lands where rivers flowed, and the song of the sea could be heard clearly. The sea-longing, almost forgotten in the recent events, was awoken within me again, and drove most other thought out of my head. We reached the havens at the end of Sirion after much toil and hardship, and then I was lighthearted and blissful, seeing my true love again after so many years.
Often I sailed with the mariners of Círdan, and ever we returned, for none of Turgon’s messengers had made it to the West, and we dared not go that way. Feeling the Sea-longing as keenly as any elf, Tuor had a ship built, and he and Idril sailed away into the West, doing what no others dared. It is said among us that Tuor, alone of all his race, is numbered among the Elder kin, and lives in peace in Valinor, though he was never seen by men again.
Upon the departure of his father, Earendil sailed often, going ever further west, and I was always there, one of his ever present crewmen. It was during one of our voyages that the havens were assailed by the vengeful sons of Feanor, who claimed the Silmaril that Elwing of Doriath, Earendil’s wife, possessed. Rather than be taken by the oathbound elves, Elwing cast herself into the sea, and was transformed into a great seabird, whereupon she flew to Earendil. Instead of returning to Middle-earth, though, Earendil had us turn the ship around, sailing west, with the Silmaril bound on his brow. We sailed long, past shadowy Isles, and through seas where nothing could be seen beyond the hull of the ship, so great was the darkness. Yet in the end, we sailed out of all that, into a fair bay, more beautiful than any I have ever seen, with a white tower standing tall, and glistening in the sun. As our ship Vingilot ran aground, Earendil forbade us to step down, leaping out of the ship himself, for he did not wish the wrath of the Valar turned against us. After him leaped his wife, Elwing, but Erellont, Falathar, and myself stayed in the ship, waiting for hours for some sight of either of them on the horizon. In the end, we saw neither of them, but many Maiar came, beings of power who seemed to be surrounded by an aura of majesty. They took us, and put us in another ship, more skillfully crafted than Vingilot, and then sent us, under a strong wind, back into the East, bereft forever of our long friends, Earendil and Elwing.
It did not take us long to reach Middle-earth again, at the speed the wind blew us, but instead of going to the mainland, we went to the Isle of Balar, where no evil of Morgoth was, and rested from our travels, and mourned our loss. Indeed, the sea-longing is still strong in me, and will be, I believe until at last I forsake the Eastern shores and sail back to Valinor. Then will I rejoice, cured at last of that which is both a blessing and a plague to me. Meanwhile, though, I shall reside here in Lindon, by the Gulf of Lune, until such a time comes.
Vengeance
Name: Feuer Padrone
Gender: male
n/a (long life)
age:76 (looks about 15)
Occupation: spy, negotiator, tracker
weapons: spikes, needles, light weapons. a light sword,uses agility to conquer. unique sword
Personality: speedy. enjoys enjoying scenery. mysterious, unnerving. obnoxious
Info: likes pistachios. his race gives him the ability to move faster than the eye can see. (except to dragons, which would look like he was appearing and disappearing) dislikes messes, likes order.
Attack: hit opponents with his needles or spikes or throws them at his opponent. or chops at then with swords... open spaces: he likes woods. he always kills his opponents.
his attack style is perfected over the years while he actually grew to be looking like a 15 year old human. a huge energy blast, in all directions, and if it hits him, is the only effective way to take him out of battle. has been done only twice.
Star Gazer
Name: Aearion Útíradien
Age: About 3000
Gender: Male
Race: Elf, Silvan
Appearance: He is tall, With long blonde hair braided as the elves usally do. He has a lean build and a gentle and yet stern and serious face. He also has bright green eyes, but they do not focus on anything, because he is blind. Thought most do not notice, Aearion has faint scars that run slanted across his face, and over his eyes.
Garb: Mostly that of the Mirkwood elves, greens and browns. Though he does use many disguses to get around sometimes.
History: When Aearion was an infant, he and his mother, Véredhiel were captured by the residence of Dul Guldor, where Sauron's minions tortured his mother for information that she did not have, and ended up permanently blinding Aearion for his mother's scilence. After they were found by a scouting party, they were brought back to Greenwood where Aearion made a full recovery, save his blindness. But his mother was too far gone, and passed into the halls of mandos. After the death of his wife, Sadron, Aearion's father, sailed to The undying lands, where he was sure he would find his wife. When he left, Sadron left his young son with Nestarion, a good friend and a healer. As he grew older, Aearion began to cope with his blindness and blocked out the teasing from all of the other elflings. Though one Elf did not blame him for his disability -- Legolas Greenleaf, the prince, accually admired Aearion for living life so fully, even when blind. Now as an adult, Aearon has long been friends with the prince and has learned to fight -- but only when needed, as it is hard to fight blind. His guardian, Nestarion has taught Aearion all his life in the healing arts, and he has done quite well. (bad ending I know...sorry.)
Siblings: none
Spouse: none
Children: none
Mother: Véredhiel (deceased)
Father: Sadron (Sailed)
Guardian: Nestarion
Valera Elenhathel
Name: Subcommander Tenil na'Tatha
Homeworld: Taarin
Species: Human
Age: 24
Appearance: Height - 5'6". Ear-length black hair, blue eyes, two small scars across left eyebrow.
Dress: Soldier's, dull green forest camo with black utility vest and belt, boots.
Weapons: Standard Taarin ground specialist's issue - sidearm, blaster rifle equipped with grenade launcher and sighting equipment, Taarin parallel-bladed close-combat knife.
Skills: na'Tatha specializes in political science and diplomacy, but has six years of actual off-world combat experience fighting trading-route pirates. Also, due to intense ground specialist training (Earth equivalent: American Green Berets), can deal with medical emergencies, night combat, and undercover ops.
Personality: Practical, stubborn, argumentative, but knows how to take orders. Has a strong sense of duty and honor. Only a few have truly broken through her hard outer shell, but she would fight to the death to protect those who have.
History: Hand-picked for the Taarin military at the age of ten, na'Tatha - for so everyone calls her, except for extremely close friends - was pushed to realize every inch of her combat potential. Separated from her family, she developed a psychological block to emotion and pain, and now can hardly remember them. Recently promoted to Subcommander, she has been assigned as the Taarin liason to the Jedi, even though she believes that the Taarin are thoroughly capable of handling the Maedan situation by themselves.
Good RP Moments:
It was the first time she had worn this newly tailored uniform, and she felt equal to the occassion - a formal promotion dinner - even though it was on board a Maedan/Taarin patol ship, commissioned to hunt down interstellar pirates. The deep blue dress fit smoothly, its hem tickling her knees pleasantly. She'd polished every medal and button on her jacket, and the cream-yellow sash around her waist was knotted with military precision. The best part, though, was her dinner partner. Mattan ha'Nor had befriended her when she was ten, a new admit to training, and welcomed her into his circle of friends. Now, nine years later, he was everything she could have wanted in a friend or brother - and the only person who ever called her by her first name.
Tenil.
They had been standing outside the room, waiting to go in, and Mattan had tried to steal a kiss - the one they had never shared. She'd pushed him away playfully, protesting in the name of protocol. Their turn to enter came, and the following two hours ranked among the best in her life.
The banquet was at its height when the alert alarms began flashing. There was a garbled message from the skeleton bridge crew before the doors to the room were blasted away and chaos ensued. They'd been boarded by the very pirates they were hunting, and now were weaponless against them.
In the hail of pirates' blaster bolts that followed, she'd overturned their table to form a temporary shield. But Mattan was no longer there. He'd reached one of the armory lockers on the wall, ripped off the cover, and was distributing blasters as fast as possible.
He was, she realized, an obvious target.
She'd leapt toward him, screaming "Get down!", but it was too late. She caught him as he fell, and felt her heart break as he smiled, whispering "Tenil" as the life ebbed out of his body.
Life was simple after that. It was simple to pick up a blaster rifle with shock-numbed fingers, simple to pick out targets in the smoke-filled room, simple to cut down the invaders one by one. na'Tatha felt no pain, no anger, no fear, and no emotion. She shot, they died, just like in an entry-level training simulation. Simple.
After the haze cleared, she sat motionless by Mattan's body, wondering at what had just happened. It wasn't until they put him into an empty torpedo shell and ceremonially set him adrift in space that she discovered the fact - Tenil was gone. na'Tatha the soldier remained, but Tenil the woman had died with Mattan.
======
So it was war - but na'Tatha wasn't about to go into it with the Maedan one up. Two steps took her to a position behind the two Maedan officials, with only the officer to worry about. She opened her fan with an emphatic snap, focusing all the attention in the room upon herself.
"Master Faradej, I think these high-ranking Maedan will be accompanying us back to Taara." ...
na'Tatha started herding the Maedan officials forward, then instinctively whirled, closing her tassen
in a high block, preventing the Maedan officer's own fan from slicing open her throat. Parrying, na'Tatha slid into a fighting stance, facing off with the man - and ducked as the female Maedan's tassen
swept over her head. Stepping to the side, the subcommander grabbed the woman's arm and flipped her over her shoulder, sliding the fan out of her grasp as she let her drop, winded.
na'Tatha now held two of the colorful silken weapons, one in each hand, snapping them open in a fluid defensive posture as the officer came in again. Letting her mind clear, she readied herself to react spontaneously, giving in to her trained, automatic responses.
Grace. Fluidity. You are the
tassen, steel wrapped in silk.
Aerwen Skywalker
Name: Reia Antilles
Age: Depends on RP (Generally Padme's age)
Appearance: Face/physical:
http://i2.tinypic.com/oqlhmt.jpg
Style:
General:
http://i6.tinypic.com/14v63dd.jpg
Teen/late teen years (post-PM, pre-AotC):
http://i3.tinypic.com/15zo0sj.jpg (not necessarily all wet.
)
Early 20's (AotC - RotS):
http://i5.tinypic.com/15zo1hw.jpg(something like that - either pic.)
Original trilogy era:
http://i5.tinypic.com/15zo4ut.jpg
And formally, would probably look like this:
http://i6.tinypic.com/153pmwp.jpg
Wears semi-formal outfits at events in her preteens, comfortable training outfits (for training, otherwise still formal for occasions,) and slightly fashionable, yet edgy, sporty, and cute clothes in her teens, a military uniform or fashionable outfit in her young adulthood, and military-like Rebellion uniforms in the days after the Republic.
Occupation: Military pilot/tactician/advisor to Republic, then General of the Rebellion.
Rank (if applicable): Lieutenant in AotC, Captain in the middle Clone Wars themselves, General in the OT.
Weapons (including lightsaber color for Jedi): Blaster(s,) usually one or two.
Home Planet (optional): Born on Corellia, raised on Alderaan
Bio:
Born to her father, a Corellian pilot and now Captain of Alderaanian security, and her mother, an Alderaanian official.
Age 12: Befriended Eljaraj Saberrie and Padme Amidala.
Age 14: Went to Naboo to visit Padme, but got caught up in blockade.
Age 16: Began pilot training to get into Academy.
Age 18: Accepted into Academy and began high-level training.
Age 21: Graduated and joined Alderaan Security force as a pilot.
Age 24: Reuinited with old friends Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Age 25: Became high-ranking advisor to Republic and Jedi.
Age 28: Went into hiding to begin foundation of the Rebel Alliance.
Other: One brother: Alan Antilles; Romantic ties (in chronological order:) Rick Ryjerd, Ryan Tonnika, Obi-Wan Kenobi
but sure, we can arrange something 
Ok, this is veeeery hard. I'll try though...
tis to be expected! anyway, where are you voters!!! WE need you1!!!
