The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

dragoneyes · 01-09-2004, 05:32 PM

Right, let's see if I can't come up with a decent character.

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? ? YES - Which one? Cirith Ungol, The Long Winter, Search for the Lost Messenger, Hunt for the Dragon.

2.) How many RPG?s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? None

Please note you may play in only 3 games at one time.

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? ? YES ? Which one? Both

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Hob Bolger

AGE: 38

RACE: Hobbit

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A well-made hunting bow and stones if arrows are in short supply.

APPEARANCE: Slightly taller that your average hobbit, with broad shoulders and strong arms. His hair is very dark brown (and curly of course) while his eyes are of a greeny browny colour depending on the light. He wears typical hobbit attire and has a wonderfully warm fur-lined green coat, which he wears almost all the time now the weather has turned so cold.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: He was once a happy, bubbly and talkative personality, but hard times have crushed him and reduced him to a brooding and serious character. He is still caring of others, even when he doesn't know them. He's not especially social but will talk and there's still some remnant of the old him inside. His upper body is strong from chopping frozen wood and lugging it around but he always has been and remains utterly useless at long distance running as he becomes short of breath very quickly.

HISTORY: His early years were the happiest anyone could have hoped for, the worst thing that ever happened to him being not enough apple tart for dessert. At the age of 35 he found his love in the shape of a fair hobbit-lass who went by the name of Ruby. They spent two and a half happy years together until the cold covered the Shire in a permanent blanket of ice.

Since then things have only got worse. Ruby was taken ill, and without any fresh food or medicine, died within a week. Hob is thankful that the rest of his family has not yet followed in her wake, but he is worried for his mother who certainly seems to be going that way and once she is gone that would surely signal the end for his father as well.
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dragoneyes' post

Hob Bolger was sitting on the step outside the back door of his house. The snow was falling gently around him and on him. He pulled his coat tighter around him. It was a fine fur-lined green coat, which he thought must have been exspensive, but had never found out as he had recieved it on his father's birthday and so of course couldn't be told the price. Now he was glad for it. He hated sitting inside only being able to hear his mother's coughs and it made outside that little more bareable, even though his ears were still aching with the cold.

As he sat, he thought over the past few days. How was it that he'd come to find himself enrolled on a trip from his home to Bree? He remembered meetings with other hobbits, Tom Bracegirdle stood out in his mind as the one who had planned it all, but it was his father that had sent him away from his warm house and bare larder to set out on a quest away from everything he'd ever known to the hopefully fuller larders of Bree.

Hob stood from his familiar position, shaking the snow from where it had settled all about him. He hated the cold with all his heart for what it had taken from him, but it was time like these, when his stomach wasn't grumbling and he could see no sign of sickness, that he forgave it. He opened his door, best to get packing now, he didn't want to forget anything, as his father kept reminding him. He smiled, how his father was fussing all over him, truely proud and yet at the same time worrying. As if he were taking over the job of his mother. He heard a cough and the smile was wiped from his face. He stepped inside the house and stamped the snow off his feet. He glared back outside at the frosty scene, it was just an innocent-looking facade and underneath he saw the cold for being the sinister climate it really was and slammed the door shut behind him.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:47 PM January 09, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

01-09-2004, 05:32 PM	#15
dragoneyes Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: Completely lost track, sorry! Posts: 733	Right, let's see if I can't come up with a decent character. 1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? ? YES - Which one? Cirith Ungol, The Long Winter, Search for the Lost Messenger, Hunt for the Dragon. 2.) How many RPG?s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? None Please note you may play in only 3 games at one time. 3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? ? YES ? Which one? Both _______________________________________ For your character please include: NAME: Hob Bolger AGE: 38 RACE: Hobbit GENDER: Male WEAPONS: A well-made hunting bow and stones if arrows are in short supply. APPEARANCE: Slightly taller that your average hobbit, with broad shoulders and strong arms. His hair is very dark brown (and curly of course) while his eyes are of a greeny browny colour depending on the light. He wears typical hobbit attire and has a wonderfully warm fur-lined green coat, which he wears almost all the time now the weather has turned so cold. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: He was once a happy, bubbly and talkative personality, but hard times have crushed him and reduced him to a brooding and serious character. He is still caring of others, even when he doesn't know them. He's not especially social but will talk and there's still some remnant of the old him inside. His upper body is strong from chopping frozen wood and lugging it around but he always has been and remains utterly useless at long distance running as he becomes short of breath very quickly. HISTORY: His early years were the happiest anyone could have hoped for, the worst thing that ever happened to him being not enough apple tart for dessert. At the age of 35 he found his love in the shape of a fair hobbit-lass who went by the name of Ruby. They spent two and a half happy years together until the cold covered the Shire in a permanent blanket of ice. Since then things have only got worse. Ruby was taken ill, and without any fresh food or medicine, died within a week. Hob is thankful that the rest of his family has not yet followed in her wake, but he is worried for his mother who certainly seems to be going that way and once she is gone that would surely signal the end for his father as well. _____________________________________________ dragoneyes' post Hob Bolger was sitting on the step outside the back door of his house. The snow was falling gently around him and on him. He pulled his coat tighter around him. It was a fine fur-lined green coat, which he thought must have been exspensive, but had never found out as he had recieved it on his father's birthday and so of course couldn't be told the price. Now he was glad for it. He hated sitting inside only being able to hear his mother's coughs and it made outside that little more bareable, even though his ears were still aching with the cold. As he sat, he thought over the past few days. How was it that he'd come to find himself enrolled on a trip from his home to Bree? He remembered meetings with other hobbits, Tom Bracegirdle stood out in his mind as the one who had planned it all, but it was his father that had sent him away from his warm house and bare larder to set out on a quest away from everything he'd ever known to the hopefully fuller larders of Bree. Hob stood from his familiar position, shaking the snow from where it had settled all about him. He hated the cold with all his heart for what it had taken from him, but it was time like these, when his stomach wasn't grumbling and he could see no sign of sickness, that he forgave it. He opened his door, best to get packing now, he didn't want to forget anything, as his father kept reminding him. He smiled, how his father was fussing all over him, truely proud and yet at the same time worrying. As if he were taking over the job of his mother. He heard a cough and the smile was wiped from his face. He stepped inside the house and stamped the snow off his feet. He glared back outside at the frosty scene, it was just an innocent-looking facade and underneath he saw the cold for being the sinister climate it really was and slammed the door shut behind him. <font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:47 PM January 09, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ "We might succeed in roasting Pippin alive inside." - Frodo.