Deawen took a deep breath and made the mistake of looking down into the water she could just see her relfection she turned away quickly she avoided her reflection not that she was ugly or mishapen but her reflection seemed to tell her story...
" She was born in the North in a small village her father was a wealthy landlord, she was a sweet child full of laughter and smiles but she was diffirent, her mother and father both had black hair and all of her brother and sisters had black hair and green eyes like thier parents but not Deawen she had Blue eyes and copper hair, she was slender and small. Many just ignored those facts as a strange coincidence until she came into her gift she was 15 at the time she already knew that she could control fire this was not new to her but when her village learned of it fear struck before love. It was decided that she should be killed by drowning her parents in their shock did nothing to help her in her need. They percieved her as evil something from Mordor...in her fear and rage she burnt the whole village to the ground to her own surprise she enjoyed seeing the village burn but she was soon pursued by survivoirs. for wickedness must be punished..for good.."

_________________
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

Xoroku looked back and briefly caught Deawen's eyes, almost as if reading her story..

Suddenly she turned back around as the rafts were carried onto the gravelly shore. She knew the men were waiting to attack; she could sense their presence. With a slight nod and gleaming crimson eyes, Xoroku nudged her black horse forward and unsheathed her sword. "The battle begins."

Aryth looked up and grinned, all of her hair falling back and revealing her pale, beautiful face. She gripped her sword tightly, the blood flowing readily within her, her viens pulsing with anticipation, her need for blood now stronger than ever as her heart began to beat faster and faster...

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

"Astigan et awestan, aflyman!" growled Saerwen. She knew that the first method they would use to cut them down would be rows and rows of archers, so she cut to the left and waited for a row of orcs to be cut down before proceeding.

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

Deawen didn't waste a second leaping to the shore. Bredol Snorted in the new territory Deawen drew her sword a curved blade but didn't seem apt to use it. she found an opening large enough to allow Deawen and her horse passage she was wary but no one won a battle without advancing, she came to the arch then into a courtyard, something moved or flutered Deawen turned just to see four Rangers and three gondorian standard charge on her from behind. She turned Bredol around and slashed with her sword cutting down two standard, THe randers were heistant to advance upon her Horse Bredol's ears pinned against his skull head held high. But Aerenel snuck up on the rangers and attacked one giving Deawen an oppertunity to attack. she brought her sword down in an arch servering her opponet's arm his scream fell on deaf ears,

_________________
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

Rhavaniel seemed to disappear as soon as they recieved the signal to disembark.
Her black cloak swirlered around her ankles like water as she dug her fangs into the weak juncture of a soldiers neck, the blood pumping out of his open artery faster as he screamed.
She broke away, and wiped her mouth delicately, as one would after a meal, her eyes searching for her next victim, judging distances and strengths.
The human fell to the ground, his face empty in death. The part-elf's face however, was flushed pink, the life-giving blood coursing through her veins, refreshing her senses.
She had starved too long.
Knocking an arrow to her bow, she took careful aim at the hidden archers, and shot one down, catching him on the upper thigh.He collapsed downward, his body broken from the fall off the ancient battlements, angled like a puppet.
Shrinking into the shadows, she slipped nearer the frenzy of the scabble, smelling blood and sweat and fear. Her breathing was shallow as she watched the carnage; the screams of the injured, the grunts of those vile creatures, men and orcs alike, as they attacked and dodged blows.
Taking a few gentle steps, she was in the center of the butchery, and the world seemed to ignore her as she unsheathed her knife, drawing herself up to her full hight, licking her bloody lips at her cowering adversaries.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Xoroku began cutting them down left and right as more Orcs poured onto the shore. The stench of blood filled the air and Xoroku knew Rhavaniel had attacked, obtaining her bloody meal somewhere across the courtyard.

A small group of Gondorian archers began to attack, sending a barrage of arrows at the orcs in an attempt to bring them down. Only a few orcs fell, however and the Gondorians prepared for another attack, barely able to keep their bows steady.

Saerwen crept behind the archers, letting the orcs get themselves slaughtered, and repeated her oath, just loud enough for the closest archer to hear, "Astigan et awestan, aflyman." He turned and could do little as her blade slashed his chest the other archers turned, forgetting the orcs at their front. The filthy creatures took their chance and tore away brutally at their faces. As one man tried to use his arrow as a dagger, she grabbed his front and used her momentum to whirl around and slit his throat. Enough of this, time for the next level, she thought to herself. She went to where the swordsmen were likely to be, at the center of the fray.

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

Deawen rode to a knew location one that was less sword and more room to stretch. it was a large courtyardDeawen dismounted for the first time she sheathed her sword wholy exposed she walked into the fray with little attention a soldeir weilding a sword slahed at her he cut her arm she looked down at her wound it didn't hurt least not yet Deawen reached out and touched the soldier and he busrt into flame it was time to unleashe her gift.

_________________
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

Rhavaniel found herself on top of the battlements, gazing silently across at the Gondarian archers.

They seemed to struggle with themselves, sensing that their efforts would not halt the raving onslaught of orcs. They were doomed, and they knew it.
Not only were they outnumbered, it seemed that Sauronhad found it fitting to unleash his favourites on Osgiliath. They saw the flames that licked around their comrads bodies, felt the despair as silent and deadly warriors neared their friends.
Their hearts were beating hard, tattowing fear into their ribcages. Sweat and panic shook their aim off course, and their fingers were slippery with sweat.

She picked her way calmly over the stone, and pushed the first man off his perch. His companion whirled around, and watched him smash into the courtyard below, crushing a patch into the cold plaster.
He turned to the creature, and raised his hands, stumbling backwards, struggling to get a hold on his arrows .
Like a cat, Rhavaniel closed the distance between them, placing a cold hand on his heart. He shuddered, and drew a knife.
She drew out his heart.
Terrified, he stared at the beating organ, then gurgled and collapsed.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Saerwen found her swordsmen. Not only were there the regular, conscript swordsmen, but also rangers. She headed for them, cutting down a few of the heavily armored dunces. She fell upon the rangers with a vengence. A fierce fencing battle ensued, but Saerwen's pure rage overwhelmed superior skill, and the man soon had a sword in his gut. She came to another, much more skilled than the first. She drew her dirk and they dueled, in an old-fashioned manner. She waited for him to attack first, then blocked. He tried to hack down on her head, but she blocked with as scissor manuever and brought the long dagger through his stomach. He crumpled, and she laughed as he groaned. "Never again will my family be oppressed and attacked by faithless allies!"

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

Deawen took a deep breath it was time to create her legacy, she calm her nerves she stood perfectly still letting the calmness surround her, her eyes rolled back for a second then with a wave of her hand flames licked the far side of the courtyard. She took a second deep breath and the whole courtyard was engulfed anyone that was in the courtyard would be burned to ash in no time the inferno was so great great was of heat bellowed out from it she sent it throughout the district she was in. She was a Dragon's Child said to be born from a dragon's egg and taught to breathe fire but this was not true but that is all people needed to think about her not her real history.

_________________
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

Joineth! (If there's still room)
Bio
Name: Fearan
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Age: 286ish
Status: Scout
Appearance: Tall, dark hair and grey eyes.
Weapons: recurved bow, fighting knives.
Personality: He's got a twisted sence of humour, to say the least.
History: I'm not much of one for history. Lets just say he was concieved, then born, then raised, then trained to be a warrior, then joined this band of merry men

(Tolkien tolkien tolkien!)

Fearan chuckled as he exited the barge. Stringing his bow, the elf spotted a likely target and took aim, ready for the command. It came as Three gondorians (All of them bull necked and low browed) and four west-men (two looking fearless, two looking just dumb). Fearan turned and fired, carefully aiming for the chest. A gondorian fell with an arrow in his heart. Out the corner of his eye Fearan saw Deawen, the human, torching the landscape. He had always thought that trick to be a bit fanciful, but it did have it's uses. What was scarier than a fire thower? Fearan could think of a couple things, but they wern't present at the moment.

30 arrows and 26 hits later, Fearan switched bow for fighting daggers. He was currently out of projectiles suitible to be shot from a bow, and was left with these two steel blades. Leaping down a stair case, he confronted an enemy from behind "Oi, hello! Lovely day, eh?" He grinned, ducking a blow. With swift elven grace he slashed the man across the belly, then the throat. The man crumpled, forcing a laugh from Fearan.

( I am not sure which is funnier...you being the only male Character or the fact that your character is..well a basket case. )
Deawen lost in the pure joy of her fire did not notice the Ranger that survived he was unhurt but Deawen had her back turned he rose and moved quickly towards her. By the time she sensed him he was already upon her. she felt the pain long before the blade reached her she made a seething noise as she turned bringing her wall fire over the ranger, he caught fire, his screams went unoticed as Deawen inspected the wound carefuly deep but not fatal it would have to wait. she chidded herself for her carelessness a mistake like that and she would be dead or worse captured. Deawen moved out of the courtyard climbed a set of broken stairs to the top of a house. She could see the city before her streatching like a maze. Deawen felt pride and triumph what it would feel like to conquer the Gondorains single handedly...but then there was the others, they were like her each wanting their own glory. From here she could spring up fire in random places to drive the enemy out. she started fires methodicaly in the western part spreading it to the north. it was a fueless fire stones seemed to be on fire but it taxed Deawen heavly she shook her head to clear it then went back down the stairs letting the fire die. she needed to rest alittle she went back to the rivers edge and sat on a boulder she watched Fearan alittle with mild intrest.

_________________
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

((I'm really sorry I forgot about this! Welcome Nauriel! Nar- do you think our male charries should be good friends?))

((I'm going to take on this new male character if you guys don't mind... ))

Xoroku cut herself a path through the Gondorians, their corpses falling to the ground near her feet. Xoroku approached one man with his back towards her and placed her sword at his neck. "Hello Aradan."

The ebony-haired man turned around after the blade was removed from his neck. "Xoroku... long time no see."

~~~
Name: Aradan Istmaedhon
Picture: http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a344/MonkeyChickadie/elf%20pics/elfmale.jpg
Gender: Male
Race: Moriquendi/Dark Elf
Age: 2770
Status: Spy of Sauron, posing as a Gondorian Soldier
Hair colour: Black
Eye colour: Gold
Apparel/Appearance: Mostly Black... see picture
Weapons: A sword, dagger and bow and arrows
Personality: Aradan is a shifty character... you never know what he has up his sleeve...
History: TBA
Other: He has a crush on Xoroku

[We need another male? I still have one in my bag of delights ^^ Oh, and Nauriel? May I place dibbs on Fearan for Rhan? She keeps biting me about it ]

Rhavaniel slipped from the ancient walls, and alighted slilently on the ground, her face serene and cleansed from her meal.
She felt full and sated, and lazily drew her long knives and stepped into the battle fray.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .