Maer and her group of scouts were walking at a leisurly pace on the borders of the great Woodland Realm of Oropher. The sun was bright, the sky blue, the leaves green, and her companions in good spirits. THey were all young elves, not yet jaded to the evils of Middle Earth, and not able to remember any great evil. To pass the time of this seemingly pointless patrol, they were testing each other's wits with some riddles. A dark-haired elf, Morfindien, had just proposed a riddle:

"My name is so fragile that when you speak it, I am broken."

Another elf, Handion, just as quickly gave the anwer: "I'v heard that before! We're supposed to be making these up! It is silence." Morfindien answered, "Fine then, you give one." Handion obliged:

"I've streets but no stones, cities but no buildings. I have forests but no trees, rivers yet no water. What am I?"

The company fell silent, contemplating. "Victory to you then, Handion! Well done! At least you can beat us all in something!" said Hannasiel, the only other female elf in the company and Handion's older sister. The company laughed and continued walking and posing riddles while Maer continued pondering Handion's riddle.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

"The King is growing restless with your fruitless searches and Interrogations Lady Deawen you would be wise to stop stalling and find these...Rats" said a Man who looked to be a Military commander. the one whom he addressed was a woman who sat in a chair with ease and comfort as if she was having a lovely discusion about the weather " Lord Adrod would do well to remember I only except one order from Kings "who to kill" nothing more and nothing less." The woman's voice was cool and soft but she had a commanding tone to it, Lord Adrod stiffened at her tone as if is pained him to see a Woman give him an Order. This was Deawen Dragonheart renowned for her skill with the blade and Her followers THe phantoms. " Do not forget It is I who lead the Phantoms Not the King and certainly not You" she added with a smile. " Just find them and kill them " Lord Adrod snapped standing up and making a stiff bow to her. After he had left did Deawen move. She hated anything or anyone that challanged her authority. Presently a young soldier entered the tent carrying a bundle of reports. Deawen looked at the bundle and cringed, far to much paper work. " well?" Deawen demanded irritably the Man bowed " From Commander Regin " he answered Deawen looked please " this should be promising, for weeks he has been picking up leads on the blackwoods." she said with a smile, "thank You Eston that is all" she dismissed Eston and he left with a bow. Deawen untied the report admist the bundle only one parchment had writing. Deawen decifered the message carfuly rereading to make no mistake. The Phantoms used code to keep the regular army fron intercepting and beating them to the kill. Regin had discovered their location but Deawen was two days from there. She burned the report and paced she was so close to the kill. " hilam!" she shouted presently a young boy about 12 rushed in he bowed low " tell Eston we ride at Dawn" she ordered the boy bowed again and dashed away into the drizzle.
Eston and the Men needed Rest she needed rest but she was so close, she could not rest now!

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

(Oh dear goodness, this is awesome Welcome, Curunir! The Blackwoods are somewhere along the outskirts of Mirkwood, but I didn't bother pinning a specific location. I'll leave that up to you good folk )

Dalria had seated herself beneath an age widened tree, her gaze lost to the ground as she considered her options.
"Lady Dal," Koltor addressed her, vaguely startling her from her thoughts.
"What is it, Koltor? Your addition of lady in your address does not bode well..."
"Indeed I fear not. We have word from a scout that cerebain were seen, and he has no doubt that they may easily report our whereabouts."
"Is that all that creases your brow?" Dalria demanded impatiently.
"Nay, there is news of another kind, from one of our last remaining inside source. They rumor that the Phantoms have indeed been active and it shall not be long before they have us located. How are we to react?" His expression had increasing concern, for the pressure was great upon him to keep her up to date, but her anger could be so easily provoked in such a mood.

Dalria remained silent, barely even glancing in Koltor's direction. Yet when a Blackwood came and murmured something in her ear, Koltor could see her jaw visibly tense, a sign of her heightened unease.

"Ai! We have lost yet two more contracts! Rumor spreads as a fire uncontrolled... This indeed does not bode well." Dalria stood, pacing for a moment.
"Shall we make ready to leave, Dal?" Koltor questioned cautiously, unsure of how she would react to his suggestion during her thoughtful gloom.

She merely nodded and gave an errant wave of her hand, as though to dismiss him from her presence as she began to brood among her thoughts, walking, heedless of her direction.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Full Name: Alassea Helyanwe

Father: Erestor

Mother: ?

Siblings: One brother, Valandil.

Race: Half Elf, her father was a Dark Sorcerer.

Age: 24 (appears younger)

History: Alassea was born in Lothlorien to an Elven Mistriss of some sort. She died during childbirth, and her father refused to speak about her at all, pretending as if she had no mother to begin with. That was just his style, too. He wasn't exactly the caring and compassionate kind of father. He was infatuated with the Dark Lands and Mordor, many questioned his alliegance, others already knew it was to Sauron.
It was not natural for a wizard to have children. When Alassea turned four, another mysterious Elf gave birth to her brother, Valandil. She too, died during labor.
Erestor wanted a son, a powerful son. One that he could teach and show how to use power, yet still be able to manipulate to his own liking in the end. Alassea proved stronger and more powerful than he had expected, if it had not been so, he would have disposed of her. He had hoped that Valandil, though younger and second born, would become greater. It did not turn out to his wishes.
Valandil was in love with nature, and dispised killing at all costs. Alassea loved her brother dearly. Erestor saw this, and used it to his advantage. He threatened to kill Valandil, if Alassea had not done what he wanted her to do. Many times he used this strategy, most of the time it worked.
What Erestor did not know, was that he passed on a trait to Alassea he didn't intend. A simple power created when the blood of a wizard and an Elf mixed. ..Alassea was a shape-shifter. She could easily transform into an animal at will. Her animal was a falcon. She was smart enough not to tell anyone, especially her father.

Appearance: Her eyes bore the shade of a dark brown. Her silky, ebony hair reached down to the small of her back. Her skin was fair tone, almost pale, but healthy looking. She stood at a good elven stature of 5'7".
Alassea's usual attire consisted of a black pants, black peasant blouse and a black leather belt. On her hands she wore protective leather gauntlets. Several daggers concealed in various places, she relied on her natural assets when it came to fighting.
('Tis very old biography..I may be altering things, but I hope this will suffice for now.)



[font=Arial, sans-serif]The reflection gazing back at Alassea from the cold stream was that of stone, porcelain features set hard due to the taxing days of travel..fate did not smile upon her this night, nor had it done so the nights before. The weather was sporadic, raining randomly at some points, the sun baring down on her back at others.

She cupped the water into her hands before splashing it against her face. Her pale skin gleamed and trickled in the moon light that poured in shafts through openings of the forest ceiling as the ice water dripped from her chin. She remained knealing by the brook, her gaze lost as she stared at the water that dripped from her fingertips musingly.

Others were close by. She could smell them. The sweat of their labor and of their recent stress hung in the air thickly, forcing a grim frown to carve her full lips. Standing, she shook her hands, wiping them on her pant-legs before sprinting through foliage and into the trees without a sound..hoping to evade the strong scent of men and gain a safer distance between them.[/font]

The dark swarm of the cerebain gathered into a black cloud and descended towards Daenfol, they began circling their master and one landed on his extended armored hand. Daenfol quietly listened to what they had to tell him before tossing the cerebain back into the air. The Blackwood encampment was not too far away and with speed he could surely reach them before they could depart.

Deanfol rallied his steed into a wild gallop leaving the cerebain behind, he entered deeper into the woods and to a spectator he might have seemed like a shadow in the midst of the tree`s. After a while of galloping Daenfol slowed down a bit, but kept horse going towards what appeared to be a clearing with a few figures in it. Daenfol suddenly stopped and pulled back the reins of his horse making it almost jump to it`s back feet.

Surely their guards or scouts had spotted him, now he would only have to wait for a response before proceeding into the camp.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

The phantom camp was like a kicked anthill. everyone busy packing and organizing. Deawen however was clam and placid she was only 20 and yet she mastered the art of control. eight reports came in confiming the Blackwood whereabouts, the most recent stated the Blackwood knew that they had been spotted and urged Deawen to attack swiftly. But this went against Deawen's judgment. a conered foe is a dangerous foe. the Blackwoods like the phantoms are a solid stable fighting force it would be fighting fire with fire and she knew this. she planned to ride at dawn but she wanted to draw them away from the dark force that lived nearby. she couldn't risk her Men being lost because of a trap she saw and did not heed.If the Blackwood's felt threatened enough they would join Sauron's forces and have a greater number than Deawen, but numbers did not scare Deawen but a allaince between the two was not acceptable.
Deawen stretched and practiced some hand hand combat moves when a tall man came up to her and bowed. he had olive skin and dark eyes and hair and a short beard. Deawen stopped her stretching to listen " you will be pleased by my reports" the man said informly Deawen raised an eyebrow " go on" " the elves have been sending out patroling parties..." He grinned as he stopped Deawen glared " they have always sent out patrols...Drad" she said " thats not the point, we have spotted a patrol close by this may be your chance to get through to the elves considering last time"
ah yes last time what a fun time, Last time Deawen sent out a rider carrying a message asking for the elves allaince she was rejected. But Deawen was bound and determined to get that allaince with it she could roam the Forest with being heeded, so she sent out a second rider but no reply came the rider didn't even return. she sent a third and the same fate happened to him. Mirkwood was dangerous and without the elves guiding the messengers they were as good as dead.
Deawen looked pleased " keep an Eye on that patrol"

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

(Alright, a few things before we continue. Welcome Annwyn! One note: I don't know about the shapeshifter ability, but otherwise your character is great! --- Another note for the entire crew. It seems we are all messed up. In one place it is raining, in another it is day and another it is night! We shall go with this: It is evening, just bordering on night, and there is rain approaching, perhaps even a storm for the morning Every one alright with that?)

The Sae’Athkorbrar camp was aroused, black steeds being readied for travel, some laden down with supplies and spare weapons, while others were prepared for riders. None were to rest that night, and indeed they needed no rest, for all were in their prime years. No injury plagued any save for one with a blade-damaged arm, and even that seemed of little concern.

“Halt! Who dares enter these realms uninvited?” called a deep voice from within the boughs of a tree above the head of the darkly clad stranger, having watched as the rider pulled his steed to an abrupt stop. In an instant the rider was surrounded by three spearmen, awaiting a response.

Dalria turned from her wanderings at the sound of the guard’s alert, retracing her steps to approach the encampment once again, pushing aside all thoughts. Her hand habitually gripped the red gem of her blade hilt as she quickened her pace.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Daenfol gazed around with an amused face, he shot a glance at the spearmen that didn`t give them much credit as he knew that his next words would be so much stronger than what their spears could ever do to him. He hmphed and looked towards the direction of the deep voice that had called out to him.

"A messenger of Mordor does not need to be invited into this realm Sae’Athkorbrar and it would not be wise to anger the dark lord for he can surely be displeased, if you dare lay a hand on a messenger simply completing his will. I bring no harm, only an offer that you should be willing to listen to in this dark hour for it is no secret your reputation has been scared."

Deanfol announced to them, these were not mere men who would turn away in their foolish pride and could be reasoned with unlike some mindless orcs. Daenfol relaxed slightly and placed his hands against his saddle front as he expected an answer.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

" two days ride and then we see what happens" Deawen instructed her officers, the older vetrens nodded and knew it was for the best but the younger officers looked troubled " wouldn't it be better to attack as soon as we get there?" one asked boldly Deawen raised an eyebrow in responce and let her second in command answer " as many of you know they will have already recived word we are here and on their tails, they will try to vanish and blend in to attack as soon as we get there would be folly we do not have enough men to attack like that. we will do what we do best! Pick off the strays create fear and unrest and when it is ripe for the killing then we stri.." Drad was cut off by a wave of Deawen's hand to silence him " I want to know where they will flee who they will turn to I want to know more about my opponet" she used the word as a respectful term she did not see the Sae’Athkorbrar as prey but a challange that deserved respect. " The king wants them delt with and I would rather not kill needlessly when we attack those that surrender are granted their rights, remember we are not Common born foot soldiers all of us here are commanders we do not Kill with out honor and i want it to be known Tha phantoms are not savages we are a society of Warriors, normaly we have never taken prisoners but in this we must am I understood?'' she asked nods and murmers answered her." we need to know as much about them as possible"

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

The men wordlessly lowered their spears, their expressions beneath their shrouding hoods revealing no surprise, as though they had been cautioned to expect such an arrival. Yet they took a step back, as though to respect this carrier of words, a servant of the Dark Lord they had once referred to as Master.

The man within the tree dropped lightly to the ground, his agility, one of many high accomplishments of the Sae’Athkorbrar, was apparent in his balance. “This way then, messenger, our leader will surely be willing to speak with you. I caution you, however, that she is not in too pleasing a mood.” With those words spoken, he led the way along the winding path as another ran forth to give news of their coming, the darkness of the forest deepening with the fast approaching night.

Dalria had arrived already, and waited with as much patience as was allowed in her current temperament after she was told the nature of their situation and the coming of the messenger. She was standing amid the hustle and bustle of preparations, her expression steeled for the coming she had long expected.

“So you have come to barter?” She said this as more of a statement than a question as Deanfol approached, her tone less than welcoming. She rested her gloved hand upon the hilt of her sword, though not to intimidate, merely to give the appearance of her being relaxed and sure.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Daenfol had expect such attitude and reaction towards his arrival from their leader, but what he had not expected was the fact that the leader was a woman. Not that he had anything against it, but still many times men were the one`s in charge and this was one of those rare exceptions. Deanfol made a slight bow towards her before starting to speak.

"Noting that your current situation is most unpleasant and unaffected by my lords work, he wishes to offer thee a safe haven and protection in exchange of your services. It would all be as it once was when you served the dark lord.

Surely you see the reason as your clients are abandoning you, not because of what you have done for them as they easily forget favors done to them. Yet they would chase you for what you are, that is not ordinary men, much like myself except for the difference of immortality..."

Daenfol spoke with a calm and suggestive tone.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Daenfol had expect such attitude and reaction towards his arrival from their leader, but what he had not expected was the fact that the leader was a woman. Not that he had anything against it, but still many times men were the one`s in charge and this was one of those rare exceptions. Deanfol made a slight bow towards her before starting to speak.

"Noting that your current situation is most unpleasant and unaffected by my lords work, he wishes to offer thee a safe haven and protection in exchange of your services. It would all be as it once was when you served the dark lord.

Surely you see the reason as your clients are abandoning you, not because of what you have done for them as they easily forget favors done to them. Yet they would chase you for what you are, that is not ordinary men, much like myself except for the difference of immortality..."

Daenfol spoke with a calm and suggestive tone.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

(Whoa! You guys have really gotten ahead!)

Here's my bio

Name: Amaran

Title/Public standing: A Blackwood Wanderer. He's best at stealth, and thus is used mostly as a scout.

Sex: Male

Race: Sae'Athkorbrar

Appearance: Tall. Dark haired with grey eyes.

Personality: Like most my other characters, he's a jokster.

Weapons: He excells in unarmed combat, and is skilled with both a bow and daggers.
---------------------------------------------------------------------

Amaran dropped to the ground as the rider spoke of his cause. “This way then, messenger, our leader will surely be willing to speak with you. I caution you, however, that she is not in too pleasing a mood.” He spoke those words as a warning, though a smile played on his lips. He led the man through the forest to the camp. Dal was waiting, of course, and the moment they came into view she spoke. He was expecting that. What he did not expect was what the messenger said. Rejoin with the forces of Sauron? The Black Wanderers were accused of being this Darklord's minions. Amaran had resented that in every way. Now, if they joined with Sauron, these rumours would be true. It was only Amaran's disaplined tongue that kept him from speaking out before his leader, Dal, had a chance to reply.

Dalria’s glance strayed to the faces of her men, observing their reaction to Daenfol’s words, and at a single moment she noticed disagreement in the eyes of one of her scouts, Amaran. A swift and urgent glare warned for silence, proving she was in a sour mood indeed.

“How is it that the Dark Lord would offer us protection while we, in the past, were the slaves who bore the task of protecting him?” Dalria defied Daenfol’s proposal, daring to have an ill tone as they spoke of the Dark Lord.

“Our situation is not so poorly favored, for we have connections in the North,” She added, her eyes seeking his expression. “True, we are now hunted, yet who can fully doubt that once again the Dark Lord will fall and all threat will die to mere rumor and tall tales? We have survived it once, we may do so again.”

Idly Dalria tapped against the red gem of her blade while waiting to hear what form of negotiation to which he would resort in response to her defiance, a slight sort of impertinent smirk passing across her features.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

((Here's my bio. I'll read and catch up with everyone, then post!))

Name: Tallain

Gender: Male

Race: Sae'Athkorbrar

Appearance: Tall and slender, but still strong. Shoulder-length brown hair, hazel eyes.

Clothing: Tallain usually wears simple and functional woodland clothes- dark pants and a tunic, and a dark green cloak. If he's preparing for battle, he'll wear leather armor.

Weapons: An unadorned broadsword, bow and quiver of arrows (most often used for hunting), and a long knife.

Personality: He's friendly to people he knows, but quiet and cautious around strangers. He has a serious intensity about him while he's working on a problem.

History: Tallain joined the Blackwood Wanderers when he was a young man. Under his superiors, he learned hunting, scouting, weaponry, and woodlore.
Firvan

Daenfol chuckled briefly at her defiant attitude towards his offering and looked back at her with cold eyes.

"Perhaps, perhaps you can survive, but there is no guarantee about that is there? You cannot swear that none of you will die in the days to come because life is so uncertain.... and what comes to the dark lord... He has never required protection, only those to aid him in his cause and those that helped him will be remembered.

Men and elves have weakened since the days of their alliance and they are weakening all the time so how do you suppose that they could defeat the dark lord when they were so close to defeat the last time?"

Deanfol inquired and suddenly snatched a scroll from his belt, he threw it into the feet of Dalria.

"Have you seen those? Seems like there is a juicy bounty for your heads, I do not doubt that many hunters will be pleased to acquire such a fortune."

Daenfol said with clear amusement in his voice as their situation had began to seem quite bleak compared to where they had been earlier. They would never admit it of course, but still it was the truth and that would make them liars should they deny it.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!