View Full Version : Ost-en-Ernil : The Castle of the Prince IV

Beren Camlost
16/Mar/2013, 08:24 PM
Ost-en-Ernil (The Castle of the Prince)


"And last and proudest , Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, kinsman of the Lord, with gilded banners bearing his token of the Ship and the Silver Swan, and a company of knights in full harness riding grey horses; and behind them seven hundreds of men at arms, tall as lords, grey-eyed, dark-haired, singing as they came."

~ Tolkien, Return of the King : Minas Tirith

Ost-En-Ernil is castle and household of Prince Imrahil, comprising of his private residence and also the main garrison of Dol Amroth.The garrison of Ost-En-Ernil (home to the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth) is housed within the towers that enclose the castle's twin baileys.

Court life at the Prince's Castle is a cycle of entertainments, hunts, and tourneys. Quests, battles against raiding Corsairs and military expeditions in the Prince's service punctuate the Court's pleasures. While waves crash against the cliffs below, the Prince and his nobles feast, toasting one another's heroics with their bejewlled, golden goblets. Knights and their ladies dance in the Great Hall to the melodies of the finest harpers in Gondor. Heroes rise to propose quests to far lands, and challenge one another to joust at forthcoming tourneys, no wonder that even the other Dnedain find the Prince's Court remarkebly "Elvish."

At Ost-En-Ernil most events revolve around his noble court. Any player may visit the Prince's noble court in Ost-en-Ernil, as long as they roleplay a character who is one of the southern Dnedain however ! there is a place for evil here. RP'ers may roleplay pirates or brigands or some other nefarious force so that way Swan Knights have antagonists to fight. Espionage from dark side characters may also play here and plots between Darkness and Light can be discussed in the Dol Amroth OOC thread HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?20207-Dol-Amroth-Activities-OOC-Thread) . Sindar Elves are also permitted to RP along side the Swan Knights..

Players might also appear as one of the Prince's men-at-arms, entertainers or servants. Players might also appear as the general citizenry of Dol Amroth, whether nobles, merchants, craftsmen or peasants. Should you wish to roleplay as a Swan Knight of Dol Amroth, you must use a character who is a one of the southern Dnedain noblemen of Belfalas. Swan Knights subscribe to standard ideas of attitude and appearance; find out more by reading the Dol Amroth Roleplaying Guide HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?16158-Dol-Amroth-Roleplaying-Guide) !

Aigronding is the GM [Lord Aphadon] of the thread,
RP'ing the high councillor of Imrahil.

The Prince will be RP'ed by one who bears the honoured SCR.

Former threads : HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?20124-Ost-en-Ernil-The-Castle-of-the-Prince-III), HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?17116-Ost-en-Ernil-The-Castle-of-the-Prince-II) , and HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?16153-Ost-en-Ernil-The-Castle-of-the-Prince)

Noble Houses of Belfalas
House Imrazr: Prince Imrahil: Castle Ost-en-Ernil, Dol Amroth
House Imrazor: Lord Merenon : Ost-en-Ernil, Dol Amroth
House Imrazor: Berendr the Gentle : Ost-en-Ernil,
House Imrazor: Lady Barawen : Ost-en-Ernil, Dol Amroth
House Calaron : Lord Aphadon, High Councillor : Castle Ost-en-Ernil, Dol Amroth
House Falconis : Lord Halion : Castle Mar Thoron, Ered Tharonionin
House Montagna : Lady Arin : Castle Oron Cardh, Ered Tharonionin
House Ringeln : Lady Gwendolyn : Castle Islthor, Dor-en-Ernil
House Azrubl : Lady Isys : Castle Azrubl, Dor-en-Ernil
House : Raelwen : Lord Haldor Carandol : Ost Imraun, Dor-en-Ernil
House : Mirdain : Lord Legrin Mr : Garth Mirdain [though currently residing at Ost-in-Edhil]
House : Radest : Lord Radest : Tantia
House Morthoron: Lord Arothir: Castle Amrnaur
House Arvandil: Lord Arvaldon: Castle Orndomr, Northern Belfalas
House Maladros: Lord Marrick: Castle?
House: Astaldo : Lord Maenhir: Castle Gilsarn

Swan Knights of Dol Amroth
Lord Halion [Aig]
Lady Arin [Aig]
Lady Gwendolyn [Sur]
Lady Isys [Ennora]
Lord Haldor Carandol [Haflin]
Lord Legrin Mr [Eafurth]
Lord Radest [Angel]
Lord Berendr [Nen]
Lord Merenon [Nen]
Lord Arothir
Sir Dale Orin (Aramir)
Sir Alcarnor Arvaldon (Tolkus)
Lord Marrick Maladros (Naith Liathant)

Esquires of Dol Amroth
Barthon Glass [Eafurth], squire of Lord Legrin Mr
Umbak Maldathar [Uriphel]

Men-at-Arms :
Medlidor [Aig], guard of Lady Arin
Warder [Ennora], squire of Lady Isys


Hints and Tips- In Character posts only please.- Posts over 300 characters preferred.- Post in black. (Imrahil and his knights may post in purple.)

Everyone is allowed to make a noble house ; please put the profile of your character(s)
in this thead first : Character Biographies of Dol Amroth HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?20144-Character-Biographies-Dol-Amroth)

-OOC: The wielder of Imrahil and I reserve the color blue for GM notices.

Beren Camlost
17/Mar/2013, 02:22 AM
Sir Halion
The Bridge

Footsteps on the bridge arching over the beautiful gardens of the Prince below alerted Sir Halion that a fellow knight or visitor was approaching the castle. The fair, tall noble halted once and carefully turned to regard his company. The lord armored in bright mail beneath a cloak of sky-blue smiled fondly at his best friend, Lady Gwendolyn.

"Enchanted to see you again, Gwen," soft-spoken Halion addressed warmly as he touched her cheek for a moment. "I was overjoyed when I received your letter saying you'd be arriving at the garrison today for a time. It's been a few months." The gaiety in his voice died as he uttered the last sentence, looking away from her toward the grey-green turbulent waters of the sea rolling wildly beyond. It was known his father had fallen gravely sick in Ered Tharonion.

"I believe we'll be on assignment rather shortly," Halion mentioned, changing the subject smoothly as he got commenced his walk, speaking past his shoulder to the woman he reckoned as an older sister. "There's a rumor that Imrahil charged his high councillor to appoint knights, esquires, and men-at-arms on the roster of a mission that needs undertaking."


Lord Aphadon
The Prince's Hall

Lord Aphadon, a dapper and patient noble of Dor-en-Ernil, calmly waited for the Prince's audience chamber to fill with intrepid knights, their guards, and lesser nobles ready for a challenge. Aphadon was the high councillor of the great house and acted as a regent of sorts while Imrahil was away. He was a slender, wealthy, amiable man with a blade-thin nose and dashing aristocratic features. Aphadon wore a dark-green velvet frock-coat, a satiny silver waist-coat, a grey cravat, and dress shoes ; his brown pomaded hair was collar-length and wavy.

Lord Aphadon, with the Prince's permission, was seated on the ancient throne of Imrahil's forebears carved from a single block of oak, inlaid with a silver motif that depicted waves of ocean water crashing against a sea-cliff ; the front of each armrest was the likeness of an august swan's head and on the high padded headrest was the emblem of a white ship with its sail unfurled. Opposite of the main doors the chair stood upon a dais of four wide stone steps and had its place in the center of the raised platform. The hall of the Prince was a vaulted chamber which had a series of wooden rafters running across the length ; the walls and floor were polished fine grey stone interlaced with squares of white, silver, and a few precious hues of blue.

He had one leg crossed over the other, his hands laced together, waiting.


Our first quest of this thread will begin shortly once
at least four or five knights in addition to Sur and I show up !

All my enter the Prince's hall and mingle with each other
for the time being. When enough appear, I will have Aphadon
address the crowd.

02/Apr/2013, 01:24 AM
Lady Isys, in the company of Warder
Approaching Ost-en-Ernil

Anticipation pulsed with every waking breath, so vividly aware was the Lady Isys of her surroundings and the meaning therein. It took much restraint to recall all the grace her mother had instilled through practice, and arrest the joy that sang in wide-filled mist-grey eyes. Shining mail served not only to paint her in the hues of service, but mayhaps the more to weigh down what enthused spirit dwelt within. It had been drilled unto her repeatedly afore she set off for the Prince's garrison, that she should not bring shame on her house by any means of over-excited conduct. Indeed, upon her parting from beloved kin, no tears were shed. And yet she had not imagined the pride which had swollen in her mother's all-too-infrequent a smile, nor the support of that gentle hand her uncle had laid on her shoulder, the both of which spoke in silence of an overwhelming faith that no words could altogether express.

Ost-en-Ernil. If this be a dream, she hoped that she might never wake. At last, some meaning to her life. At last, all of the hard work and the preparation, it had all been for this day. Her training done, she advanced as though a bride t'ward her future. For the service she had pledged her life unto awaited. The service that her father had entered afore her, oh so long ago. Summoning all dignity that humility so oft subdued, she fixed her eyes on the anticipated horizon, chin held high. This is what she had been born for. Here it would commence.

Equally as inspired by the sight rising up the more afore them was the lady's companion, though his ecstasy was the more reticent of the pair. Warder travelled e'er so slight behind his lady, as not only courtesy but training too dictated. Oft she glanced back, and all the more so, as their destination grew e'er nigh. Yet now that they were within reach or sight of those already gathered, it seemed that she sought no more to gage his feeling on this most important enterprise. His calm composure at the venture they now faced had rallied her nerves somewhat, and now there was but the precise coils of her dark hair to engage his scrutiny. To have let his dark gaze wander at the affluent scenery would have been to assume that he was unfamiliar with such class and decent folk as here abounded. His own dark hair was made as neat as taming could afford it, his tanned skin as clean as bathing would allow, and he had e'en undertaken all design of garment that it amused the Lady Isys to endow him with. For her he would endure all manner of subjugation, for she was his passage into a world of greater honour that he had e'er dreamt to be acquainted.

07/May/2013, 08:56 PM
Sir Legrin Mr
Esquire Barthon Glass
The Bridge

"Come along, Barthon, you oaf! We're late as it is and I don't want any of my prospects shattered because you didn't make sure your horse was properly shoed." With a dark look back at the squire, Legrin looked ahead towards the fortress ahead. The squire, Barthon, hung his head and dug his spurs into his horse, a chestnut mare. He held his tongue of course as usual, but he knew that if his master had any real compassion or sense he would have given Barthon enough time to prepare for the journey. He was sore distressed as it was to prepare his master's horse, his armour, his gear, and any other trinkets he might feel the desire to drag along. But it couldn't be helped. "By rights, you shouldn't even be here, and you know that. I won't have any peasant keeping back my destiny." Mr continued. Barthon was well aware of his humble origins, and Mr's constant reminders were like rubbing salt in a gaping wound. Barthon was by no means a "peasant", however. His father too was noble, though of a lesser kind, and his family had been impoverished generations ago though they retained their claim to nobility. Since then they had kept themselves strong by fashioning specialty weapons for the other nobles of the Belfalas, and the Glass Armourers were renowned for their skill and their master was regarded by all as a pioneer in the craft.

By now they were swiftly trotting over the bridge, on their way to Ost-en-Ernil. Barthon noticed a man, a Swan Knight by his appearance, strolling with a beautiful woman. The young squire looked at his master. Sir Legrin took no notice of either of them and thundered by them on his Friesian. The haughty noble had no time for courtesy and tolerated none other than to himself. But Barthon was made of gentler stuff. He stalled his steed to a trot and with a shy smile he bowed to the Knight (Halion) and the Lady (Gwendolyn) with him. With an impassioned plea for understanding he looked at the pair, hoping they would understand his reasons for rudely passing them as he glanced ahead at his master. Legrin was by now through the gate and in the courtyard, cursing under his breath about the slowness of his squire.

Barthon entered the gate and dismounted when he saw his master waiting on his horse. "Glass."

"Yes, my lord?"

A sinister look came into his eye as Mr looked the squire up and down. He was tall as were all men of Dol Amroth, but Mr was stunted and was very conscious of it especially in the presence of his inferior esquire. "I've told you time and again, fool. Never keep me waiting. Again!" The last word he let forth from his throat with a roar. "Now, get this creature stabled. And don't you dare think of resting until he's as well fed as the Prince." The corners of the noble's mouth twitched as he dismounted and entered the court of the Prince.

Barthon merely sighed and did as he was told.

Angelikus Snape
11/May/2013, 11:17 AM
Sir Radest Tantia
Esquire Brison Powerblade
A bit of history and the travel on the way to Ost-en-Ernil

It was not too long ago when Sir or Lord Radest, (or whatever you would like to call him) had just returned from his duty at the Swan Fleet when a man, no more than 23 years old approached him. He, just like the Lord of Castle Tantia, had black hair. However, his eyes were that of an emerald green and, suffice it to say, he did not have the grace and poise of a regal which clearly showed that this man was a commoner. This man presented himself and introduced himself as Brison Powerblade and requested that he joins Sir Radest as his squire. At first, Lord Radest is a bit apprehensive as to taking this boy as his esquire. He knew that he did not have the patience and the time to train an esquire as he had to manage his businesses, be on duty with the Swan Knights and be able to hold his house in order. However, this man was persistent. He just would not take "no" for an answer. Everyday, he stood outside of Castle Tantia and did not leave until Lord Radest accepts him as his esquire.

One would guess that this man's determination and perseverance got the attention of Lord Radest because after a few days without food and water, a guard approached him and stated that Lord Radest would want to speak with him again in his office before letting the man enter the castle and lead him towards Lord Radest's spacious office. The walls of the said office are that of a deep shade of red with the columns of the shade of mahogany to offset the brightness of the red color. At the middle of the room, there is a black leather couch with a circular coffee table to entertain guests. At the other end of the room from the huge oak doors, was a huge oak table with two black chairs in front of it and a huge leather seat at the back of it where a man of around 30 years old, with black hair up to his shoulders, grey eyes and fair skin sat. Of course this man was Sir Radest scribbling some things down on a sheet of paper.

Without looking, he motioned Brison to sit down on one of the seats in front of him. The boy quickly walked and sat down on the left chair as he was told to do. Without looking, Sir Radest asked: "Boy, why are you so determined to become my Esquire and maybe more importantly, why do you choose me as your lord?" The boy did not speak for a while because maybe he was in deep thought. After a while, the boy replied: "My Lord, I would like to become your squire because I have been following you for some time and I believe that the things that you have accomplished so far in your career has been amazing." Sir Radest let out a sigh and said: "Boy, my job is not glamour or fame. What I do requires discipline, loyalty, honesty, perseverance and determination. What I do is not for me but it is for the good of others and if you cannot understand that, I would have to let you go, understand?" The boy's eye widened as he knew what that meant. Sir Radest then ordered one of his servants: "Take this boy to the house of my guards and tell the head trainer to teach him the basics of swordplay and soldiering. I'm going to Ost-en-Ernil in a week's time and I'm taking this boy with me to have first hand experience on what being a Knight is like." He then turned to Brison to address him as well. "Boy, don't make me regret my decision and since I do not have a lot of time to train you, you'll be coming with me to all my missions. Do not disappoint me or else..." and with that the boy was sent to the Soldier's quarters to train.

A week after this incident, a letter was given to Sir Radest from Lord Aphadon. He then went to the quarters of his guard to look for Brison. When he saw him, he said: "Boy, you have 15 minutes to get ready. We're going to Ost-en-Ernil. Guard, lend this boy a horse and prepare my grey steed too." Having an idea that this mission might involve fighting, he wore his breastplate, with the symbol of the swan in front of it, and underneath his breastplate, he was wearing his chainmail. He also brought with him his steel helm and also a lot of packs for provisions. He would have Brison carry most of it which the purpose was only known to himself.

After the 15 minute time frame, they both left towards the castle of Lord Imrahil and that of his high councillor Lord Aphadon. It was a short and silent trip because they were not that far away from the Prince's castle. Upon arrival, he turned to Brison and said "Keep up but stay a few steps behind me. Don't look the lords in the eye because we do not like it. We also don't want to talk to squires until absolutely necessary so don't talk to any lord, or lady unless they ask you a question. Is that understood?" Lord Radest gave a stern look that would scare anyone before opening the main doors towards Prince Imrahil's throne room.

Sir Radest quickly proceeded towards the throne of the Prince, with his squire a few steps behind, before stopping and bowing to the man sitting at the throne on behalf of the Prince. Brison followed suit and bowed as well as his lord had done. Sir Radest then said: "Hail Lord Aphadon! I have just recently returned from the successful voyage of the Swan Fleet. Should you have some need of my services, I am ready to leave at once with my squire."

15/May/2013, 03:42 PM
Isys, of House Azrubl
With Warder, in attendence.
Come at last to the Halls of the Prince.

The old man regarded her with surprise, and suspicion.
"Most folk leave these matters to their squires, m'lady," he observed, drily. The woman was young and clearly noble, yet much out of place in loitering about the stables rather than heading straight for the Prince's hall of audience. The stablemaster had not seen the like before.
"I would ensure to my satisfaction that my man performs his duties to the letter," Isys explained herself, in the very second that she realised there was no need. A lady was not so answerable.
"Whatever you say," the old man didn't argue further, although he held her gaze far longer than her mother would have allowed without rebuke. "M'lady," he bobbed a bow and wandered off, shaking his head and leaving the young Isys to wonder if she should have even bandied words with the man. Presently Warder returned, although he too seemed surprised to see her at the stables.

"Apparently I have given you cause to distrust me ?" he enquired, quietly. Apparently the old man had fore-warned him that she was at hand. The young man seemed concerned.
"You took an awfully long time is all," Isys admitted, struggling to adopt a haughty tone and resulting with one far more anxious. "If I didn't know better, I would think you only came with me at all, to ensure the horses were well-tended."
"Well Old Rube would skin me if anything happens to them," he smiled, and then added, by means of suggestion only. "Are you ready to seek out your peers now ?"

"I have never been within the Castle of the Prince afore," she admitted, by means of making conversation, as they made way through impressive the courtyards.
"I have," Warder surprised her. "Just the once, mind you. I came with your father, for a tournament, many years ago when I was very young."
"I remember now," she voiced then as the memory resurfaced. "Mother wouldn't let me come along. She said that all that sweat and blood was not a thing for ladies to behold." Her voice trailed some at the recollection.
"I was prouder than I'd ever been to stand in service of Lord Araldur that day," Warder let her know, seeking to improve her mood some. "Though he won more coin in the gambling than he won battles, he was in his element. He loved it here, the people, the atmosphere. Even when we set forth to journey home, and we were set upon by bandits. Four of them, Your father's luck was well-known and they hoped to benefit themselves from his good fortune."
The lady's eyes grew wide. "What happened ?" she couldn't not know.
"Your father saw them off, every one," the man informed her gladly. "I have never seen the like. He seemed as though it was just another game, so easily he triumphed."
"That sounds like my father," she smiled quietly. "But now you are left with only me to serve in his stead." Isys grew sombre anew "Would that I were more like him," she sighed.
"You are of House Azrubl," her man reminded her. "Daughter of Araldur. You are their equal here. And you forget, I have seen you during combat also. Your father would have smiled to see your ascent into their number."
"My mother will already have worked out just how much the wear and tear of war is like to cost her in repairs," Isys guessed, and sighed.
"Your mother is not as bold by half as you have already proven," Warder remarked carelessly. "Why, she would have baulked at the thought of spending so much time beneath the sun, unguarded. At least without a parasol," he grinned, devilishly, as the lady's hand rose self-consciously to her fair skin after their journey down long, dusty roads. If they had been at home, she would have struck at him for teasing her so.

"Hush ! Someone will hear you," she warned him in a whisper, though with a conspiratorial smile of her own.
"Nobody here cares what I say, my lady," he whispered back, and on his face there was an expression she could not define. "All eyes will look to you first, your well-groomed horse the second, and me scarce at all. Just do as the others do," he advised her quietly, as they now approached the entrance to the grand establishment. The loud voice of Sir Legrin Mir caused both to look up, as he bellowed at his squire. Isys glanced at her own accordingly.

"Just you give me no more trouble then boy," she spoke up purposely, throwing out admonishment at Warder, as to be seen following the elder knight's example. "Else I shall have you dragged along a league or two, by one foot roped behind your precious horses," she warned him, grimly, though her eyes sparked bright with merriment.
"Yes m'lady," Warder bowed, in good humour. "I mean, no m'lady. That is to say, whatever you say, m'lady." His amused expression betrayed the distinct lack of real danger that the threat implied.

"Oh, do be quiet now," Isys's best efforts to remain straight-laced gave way to laugh some at their game then, and though he dared not join her mirth openly, so close that they were to the great lords and ladies, Warder began to relax for she was losing that worst edge of nervousness. Her life back at her uncle's estate had been that much isolated that he was, in truth, the closest thing that she had ever known, outside of family, that might be called a friend. Here though, such would not be seemly to demonstrate. He would do anything to help her, and protect her. In good reputation at the least, for she had graduated from Archams Academy without any help from him or any other. The lady's strength and skill were not the problem, but her confidence. And that, he ventured to predict, would improve only with time and with experience. Often folk did underestimate the house of Azrubl, painting them all with the brush of riches, generosity, and all-too-civil mannerisms. But as the late Lord Araldur had proven to those bandits, years before, underestimate them at your peril !

They entered the great hall, where Sir Radest was addressing the Lord Aphadon with all the dignity and confidence that Isys of Azrubl yearned to possess in herself. Warder had fallen into step behind her, a silent but loyal presence to bolster all resolve, although as she looked upon the lords and ladies of the court, she found that she knew no great fear to be noted within their company. Her father had stood here. As though his very spirit filled her with valour and pride, she raised her chin and rallied all sense of self-worth, awaiting the High Councillor's address.

Beren Camlost
23/May/2013, 06:09 PM
"I really do loathe that lout," Halion confided in Gwen as the vainglorious Sir Legrin galloped past without a pause to respectfully greet either of them.

"Mr is a churlish sort. I've often wanted to duel that pig-headed dolt however that would upset Arin." Lady Montagna, a knight errant and Halion's sweetheart, reckoned the sport an uncouth means of punishing a member of the gentry so unfortunately he would never relish the opportunity to put his sword's blade through Legrin's heart.

"His esquire is rumored to be a fellow of good repute though," Halion murmured to Gwen as he returned Barthon's bow. "Let's get inside, dear," he softly urged Gwen, guiding her forward a moment with his hand gently resting against the small of her back.


"Lady Isys, isn't it ?" Halion asked, taking the hand of the fair grey-eyed woman. The dashing noble raised it to his lips and planted a chaste kiss there softly.

"The memory of your excellence at Archam's School has not been forgotten, I must say," Sir Falconis praised her. "You were ahead of my time, Isys, but my instructors had spoken of your strength and skill fondly. You were an example to us all especially my love, dame Arin Montagna."

Halion quieted himself as Steward Aphadon began to speak.


"Lord Radest, I see you gladly," Aphadon warmly responded.

His gaze flickered to Mr briefly. He wasn't happy at all to see him but he would say it not. Although Aphadon didn't particularly favour his infamous rude behavior, Imrahil's steward would be grateful for Legrin's martial support.

"I have need of your services indeed and that of your squire, Radest. The talents of you all -" he waved broadly, indicating everyone who had assembled around the Prince's throne "- will be invaluble. I must speak candidly ; there is an assignment I must bestow. Before the Prince left on errantry he had recieved a plea for help from Tolfalas. There are more than only vacation resorts on that beautiful island. Copra, fish, citrus fruit, silk, clothing, and handicrafts are their primary exports - things we want, things we need. Many citizens of Belfalas are encouraged to involve themselves with offshore banking there and precious gems are mined in the mountains of the isle. The peaceful Gondorians of that colony and their economy are now endangered."

"Let me guess, milord....the Corsairs have raided Tolfolas?" Halion, who was standing between Isys and Gwen, questioned grimly.

Aphadon's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid so, Sir Falconis," the high councillor affirmed. "They've attacked from the southeast seventy-two hours ago in the misty dawn. There was a pitched battle between our flotilla and their ships ; all our vessels were sunk and the brutes invaded the shores. The pirates have taken control of the coastal mining camps and fisheries. I expect they have already now infiltrated the wineries and fertile farmlands in the north. I assume most industries will soon be targeted and civilians victimized"

Aphadon arose from Imrahil's chair and slowly descended the steps of the dais toward the highborn and their loyal servants below. "Swan Knights have been slain. Innocent people are dying. Gondor's protectorate is being sacked. Will you tolerate this?"

"I volunteer the military aid of my House, Aphadon," Halion swore. "I will storm the northern beaches and crush the Umbarian ravagers thieving there with one swift stroke."

Aphadon outstretched his hand to grip Halion's. "Who also will go with Lord Falconis to rid Tolfalas of these fiends?"


Respond as you will as your characters
but ultimately have them agree to deliver Tolfolas
from Corsair aggression!

We'll be RP'ing the
expedition within this thread.

The name of our mini-RP is called Trouble in the Tropics.
Please use the title in your posts, using the option in the
Go Advanced reply mode, until the end of the quest, please.

Angelikus Snape
27/May/2013, 08:55 AM
Lord Radest Tantia
Squire Brison Powerblade

Lord Radest stood quietly and listened intently as Lord Aphadon addressed the Lords and Ladies now present at the Prince's Hall. It was about the trouble at Tolfalas involving Corsairs which had always been a thorn in the side of the people living at Dol Amroth. These Corsairs are also sea-farers, just like the people of Dol Amroth, with one difference. Corsairs plunder and pillage all those they could find and not even care for the safety of other people. Most of the people of Dol Amroth refer to them as pirates. Now, they have disturbed the peace once again and attacked such a lovely place to relax for people in the Southern Kingdoms. Lord Radest believed that this sort of behavior coming from the Corsairs should never be tolerated. When Lord Aphadon asked for volunteers for this quest, just as Lord Radest was about to indicate his interest, Sir Falconis was able to beat him to it. As he listened to Sir Falconis' pledge, he then followed suit by saying: "You need not storm the northern beaches alone Sir Falconis. Lord Aphadon I also pledge the military aid of my house and accompany Sir Falconis at Tolfalas." He then moved to the side as he waited for other people to show interest in this quest that they were about to undertake. Brison stood silent in the background and observed what was going on. The squire hoped that more people would come to Lord Aphadon's aid because he did not think that the military might of both houses could get the job done.

27/May/2013, 05:01 PM
Lady Isys Azrubl
With Warder

As they waited on the address, Isys was cordially distracted by the approach of a gentleman knight.
"Sir Halion Falconis," she received him softly, with a sedate smile that did long practice and her mother's fine example credit. Only then did she retrieve her hand with grace. "Your own celebrated reputation precedes you, and must surely have your Lady Arin count herself much blessed." Isys ushered forth a second smile, to greet the Lady Gwendolyn who stood also at hand, and then sought from their illustrious company to silently behold the two Lords Radest and Legrin, in all their resplendent bearing.

Further niceties would have to wait thank goodness. The tidings of Lord Aphadon were much less welcome than were the guests of their absent prince. And as rippling water freezes unto hardened ice, so did the Lady Isys feel her entirety glaze cold as the news robbed her of breath and choked at her heart. The delicate mix of qualities, both high-born lady and formidable soldier were traversed and clashed and came together in a single unit of deadly elegance, as the word from Tolfalas was understood; understood all too well. These degenerates of Umbar had laid down insult and atrocity upon the shores of Gondor with far too great a frequency and it would be difficult, nay impossible, for any in attendance not to rise at the High Councillor's address. Isys was proud and gladdened to note the immediacy of both Halion and Radest, in speaking what her mind also endorsed.

"They came looking for blood," she added with a voice more clear, less sweetened, as though the lady were suddenly possessed by some deity far more assured, "and in blood shall they be repaid, a thousand times for every denizen of Gondor that has been afflicted by their malevolence. So swears the allegiance of House Azrubl."

Even as Isys lent her own voice to the growing chorus of outcry, she bent low before Lord Aphadon, and in unison did Warder thus fall to his knee, albeit well further back from his esteemed employer, in both wordless agreement and devout obedience. For all their difference of class and expectations, the pair each had a personal blood debt to pay to any who called themselves corsair. And they took their grudges against their enemies just as seriously as they took their oaths of fealty and service to their beloved countrymen.

01/Jun/2013, 09:59 AM
Trouble in the Tropics

Derinde Orofis, newly appointed knight
Dalion Drifter, esquire in her service

There was word of some mission that Lord Imrahil had for his knights and squires. Derinde knew that women were not often squires or knights but if there was a place where such brave lionesses could be found it was certainly the Prince’s halls. She was a youth of eighteen, well-trained in the art of swordsmanship and tactics of battle. She came from an old House whose estates laid near Edelond in the Bay of Belfalas. Derinde grew up learning of the history of her people, not only of her family but all the brave Men that lived in the Bay and the surrounding lands. She possessed a fierce pride and a strange determination that she would someday come to greatness. Her teachers often criticized her of that but Derinde, though she agreed to listen to them and promise she would learn humility, deep inside her still had that aspiration of making her House great once more.

There was some dark and sad story as far as House Orofis was concerned. Derinde had not succeeded in making her father tell her of it but years passed and she grew up maturing and he grew up too nearing death and she knew a time would come when old men wish to pass their knowledge to their progenies; herself, Lady Derinde and her younger brother maybe, still a novice in their stronghold, Misthold.
Derinde’s ambitious nature often made her a bit vexing to others but generally she was kind and did not let her ambition lead her every decision. It was a hard balance to achieve but she somehow made it and so she actually had many friends, none of them here right now, and actually made friends quite easily. She was also beautiful; her eyes dark brown but shining and her hair soft and short reaching her shoulders making gentle waves as the wind passed through them. Her cheeks were her favorite thing on her and like many men had told her, she was right.

Entering the Prince’s hall after leaving her horse and most of her gear in the stables to be fed, Derinde found she had just arrived for the introductions to the quest. The Prince’s steward, Lord Aphadon had already started with the details of the situation in Tolfalas. He was a kind man, she had been told by her father who knew him well from past military expeditions. Derinde unfortunately had grown up in Misthold and knew no other nobles. Their stature now amazed her. These were not only noble but knights, great warriors or inexperienced warriors ready to prove their valor. She felt she belonged in that company and as she entered she nodded to any eyes that happened to catch her gaze. She herself noticed a young man(Barthon) who looked like a squire himself and that made her kind of uncomfortable for his age was near hers and she was a knight only for some time now. Still, he seemed like a nice lad, unlike the knight(Mr) by his side who looked like he had swallowed something especially foul –at least that was the impression he gave her. She also noticed a young lady(Isys) in beautiful attire with her own squire or friend(Warder)…? She held her attention for too long but then Derinde just stood at a corner and listened to Lord Aphadon’s words.

Her own squire was of a lesser House than her own, Drifter in the name, but they were better accounted in the hall of the Prince. Her own father and his father before him never had the chance to become Swan Knights or approach the court as knights at any case. They fought whatever enemies approached them but still they lacked the favor of the Prince’s family. Dalion was a nice young person thankfully and he helped a lot like squires are meant to do. She hoped he would gain his knighthood soon, after all he was only two years younger than her.

He arrived just as the first of the knights started to pledge their help to Tolfalas’ plight. Seeing nobody else to move forward for some moments she made her way towards the front lines of the nobles and also swore her loyalty.
“My Lord, I am Lady Derinde of House Orofis from Misthold. You know my father I was told and you know he is a brave warrior. I mean to prove the loyalty of my House to Prince Imrahil so I will gladly follow you great knights to Tolfalas to drive the corsairs out. My House is pledged to this mission!”

01/Jun/2013, 01:00 PM
Sir Legrin Mr
Esquire Barthon Glass

Legrin took no notice of the newly approached company, and the lady who began bellowing at her squire. (Isys and Warder) He curtly marched his way to the hall where he knew Aphadon would be waiting for him. As his armor shod feet trampled down the brick cobblestones of the fortress his rand dreams and schemes turned to something much more minute. Why exactly were they here now? What new quest was bothering the Prince this time? The unusually dark frown, dark for even Mr, cast a shadow as he walked. Mentally planning his strategies in the court, he entered directly and forcefully.


Mr took umbrage - he took great umbrage. Aphadon, before the entire court, snubbed him! He began the audience by stating that he saw Lord Radest, some upstart Swan Knight, gladly.....gladly... yet didn't give Mr the time of day other than a brief haughty and hateful glance. Legrin knew what he was thinking. He knew the Mirdain wished to reestablish themselves in their ancestral seat of power at the court. For too long his rightful place had been denied him an Apahdon only wished to keep that so. He would deny that of of course. But Legrin knew - he knew only too well. He saw right through the black heart of that dirty little man.

But he called for volunteers. Legrin looked angrily as Halion jumped at the opportunity. That knave had been itching for a chance to prove his worth for too long. When did the Mirdain get their chance? Mr was resolute, and was determined to stay out of this one after all of the offense he had taken on this single day.

Yet as he remained silent the other nobles and Knights began pledging themselves and theirs to the mission and Legrin saw the folly of his actions. Striding out into the middle where he would get the most attention, the haughty noble looked each and every person in the room in the eye for a moment, hoping to give an impression. Then he thundered out to Aphadon, "But what would this quest be without the House of Mirdain? My house is here for the Prince!" With a flourish, he returned to where his squire stood waiting.

Barthon quivered in his boots. He knew he'd be whipped after the ceremonies were done.

Lost Tales
29/Jun/2013, 11:44 AM
Lord Berendr (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?20144-Character-Biographies-Dol-Amroth&p=588798#post588798),
of House Imrazr

Berendr watched in silence as one by one Swan Knights pledged themselves for the mission to Tolfalas. His deep grey eyes were even darker as he brooded over what the Corsair's presence of that fair island meant. The news was not new to him as it had been to most of the others present there.

Aphadon had found him in his quarters that morning, tending to his little terrace garden. Berendir had been busy quieting down his mind and soul, allowing the flowers and plants to do the trick as he sought to forget yet another terrible scene with his wife. The knight did not know how long the High Councillor had been standing there, but when he did notice him a slight flush had worked its way up his pale cheeks. If there was one thing Berendir had grown to be terrified of it was pity. And it was not an emotion he could bear to see, especially in the eyes of friends.

Seeking to waylay any questions of concern that might be thrown his way, the knight had spoken first, "To what do I owe the honour of your visit, Lord Aphadon?" It was only then that Berendir had noticed that his companion looked grim, like there was bad news in his heart and mind. Worries of his personal affairs were pushed aside as grey eyes filled with concern and foreboding. "What is it, Aphadon?"

What had followed had had Berendir trembling with the injustice of it all. It was only natural that Tolfalas be rescued from those Barbarians. Even now as the Swan Knight watched the Houses Falconis, Montagna, Azrubel, Mirdain, Radest and others pledge their alliegence, he knew that for most it was not a real choice. For all Gondorian the Corsairs were not but a menace, a nemesis, an enemy to be smashed under the heel of Gondor.

Aphadon had not needed to ask Berendir if he would go. Berendir did not offer. It was an unspoken understanding. Of course Berendir would go! He and others like him of the House Imrazr.

After all the other knights had spoken, Berendir came forward to stand with them. "You know my answer, Lord Aphadon. Now, I can only wish that Merenon were here to lend his support."

06/Jul/2013, 04:17 AM
Jorge Jugador
Bay of Befalas
Assaulting Tolfalas

The smell of burning ships wafted into his nostrils. He stared at the destroyed armada before him, smiling cruelly. The ships of the Southern Gondorians were now either completely disbanded or in flames throughout the Bay. The corsairs had fought hard and earned a tough victory over the valiant enemy. Jorge had known before setting out that it would be no easy task to defeat them and they had put up a good fight. But now was the time for the rout.

Jorge Jugador, privateer of Umbar, formerly Steward to the Treasurer of Umbar (more like paid spy of the City), turned against the corruption and the power hungry lords, stood on the poop of his ship. It wasnt a large ship by any means but he had a crew of ten men manning the vessel and what weaponry it had to offer. His attire was somewhat simple; his usual white shirt and black trousers, boots, a belt on which hung his cutlass, and a boonie hat on top. His dark eyes and his hair contrasted with the blue sky of the turbulent waters of the Bay of Belfalas.

He wasnt formally enlisted in the corsair fleet, but had rather tagged along seeking his own fortune righteousness too righteous for an Umbarian. With him was the young man he was somewhat trying to mentor, Karab. Karab was pretty much a worthless pickpocket whom Jorge was trying to transform into a man of honor. Well, for an Umbarian.

His eagle eyes spotted another small ship seeking to escape towards the mainland. It held a few men who were desperate for their lives. Jorge turned to the crew and barked out some orders. They were going to get that ship. His own ship slowly turned and began the pursuit as the wind filled the sails and several of the crew handled the masts while the others prepared the ram on the prow of the ship.

Jorge turned to Karab. Are you ready for some loot? Something tells me those chests on that ship arent just full of food and clothes. An odd glint came into his eye. Whatever we can get, we get. But just get rid of the crew. Jorge felt slightly guilty about his merciless command. But it was reasonable. He had no room for them and he knew from firsthand experience that Umbarian treatment was not fit even for the hardy. If he allowed them to escape, they would only meet even more miserable deaths at the hands of his fellow countrymen who were less scrupulous. He was doing the right thing.

And torch the rest. he finished.

Something felt not quite right about this whole journey. For one, Calista wasnt there. He had grown fond of the rough and tumble, frank, and clever woman. Since he had escaped the Iron House, he had lost track of her. Only luck had put him back into contact with Karab. He wondered whether Calista was even still free; he knew there was a heavy price on her head back home. That was sort of why he was here now- he too was on them most wanted list also. Jorges thoughts drifted in and out as they drew nearer their opponent.

The ship was now within shouting distance and Jorge stood tense and alert. The plan was to ram them perpendicularly, to quickly board and dispatch their adversaries, grab anything of value, and retreat before it sunk. He had done it a million times before, but just like every time before the adrenalin began to rush and his heart began to pump. The fight was on.

15/Jul/2013, 02:40 AM
Karab Amabo, Part of Jorge Jugador's Crew
Bay of Befalas
Assaulting Tolfalas

The tossing ship, the wind in his face, the smell of the sea; all of these combined to make something that many people, especially people from Umbar, enjoyed. Karab, however, was finding that being on a ship wasn't all buttercups and daisies, as he had often thought. Despite spending his whole life up until this point in Umbar, Karab had never actually been at sea for over an hour or two. He had been feeling seasick on this voyage anyway, but now that they had destroyed one of the Gondorian ships, the smell of burning wood in the air, the feeling of tension on the ship because of the danger they were in, and the screams of those unfortunate souls on the sinking enemy ship were more than he could take. He lost his lunch, though was careful and quick enough to lose it over the edge of the ship and not on the ship.

After he had recovered, Karab looked around to see if there was anything he was supposed to help with. He still had mixed feelings about Jorge, despite what they had been through together. Sure, Jorge was a fine man at first glance, but Karab still felt that Jorge didn't redistribute their loot well enough. For some reason, Karab felt that he always received less than he had worked for, even though he hadn't done much work, at least not compared to the others. He hated the system that Jorge sometimes implemented where you got to keep what you looted. He usually ended up with very little whereas those who cheated got a lot. Shrugging off these thoughts, Karab found himself doubling over the edge of the boat again. "The sea ain't enough like home for ya, kid?" said one of the crewman, laughing. Karab remained silent. He resented being called "kid", but letting the other crewmen know that would only make it worse. He had been a shrimpling when he first met Jorge, but he was finally starting to grow and wasn't much shorter than the others on the ship.

Standing back up straight, he listened to Jorge's command to get rid of the crew on the other ship. Karab saw the look that came across Jorge's face and found himself thinking, "What's wrong with him? Not only were these people attacking us, but they have valuable goods on that ship. They don't need all of that money anyway. I could find much better uses for it than they ever could. But Jorge actually looks like he feels a bit guilty! Honestly, those people had it coming to them!" Keeping these thoughts from becoming words, however, Karab nodded to the command to get rid of the crew on the enemy ship. He drew his sword, made sure his daggers were in place, and then waited for the order to board the enemy ship.

05/Aug/2013, 02:42 AM
Sir Branon and Haldor Raelwen
The Bridge

"You are in one of the most beautiful places in Gondor, brother, and yet you look like you just swallowed one of that fool Taylin's culinary concoctions whole." Branon said to his younger as they rode horses side by side one the white stone road up to the Prince's castle. On either side of them were the gardens of the courtyard kept immaculate by the castle's many servants and even now the Swan Knight could see a veritable rainbow of colors in the petals of the flowers to either side of them. He thought they smelled lovely and wondered why his brother had his face contorted in such a grimace that he appeared to be trying to hide.

"It is the sea, or the smell of it at least." Haldor replied after a moment with a sigh. The two knights led a small procession of retainers and men at arms with them that was customary whenever the Gondor gentry went about, or in this case, were summoned to the Prince's court in curiously mysterious circumstances. The message did not give any exact reason for its summons and both the brothers felt there might have been a good reason for that. "It always reminds me of Harondor." He finished, trailing off back into his thoughts.

Branon was quiet for a few moments as he considered this. He could certainly empathize with his younger brother, even so far south whenever a wind would whip down from the north he would shiver involuntarily and recall images of his days as a warden of the northern mountains. Just as he was sure Haldor had bitter memories of his service in South Gondor, Branon had his own cold shadows that dogged him. It seemed to be a fact of these violent days that one had as much trouble finding inner peace as peace abroad.

"Perhaps," Branon ventured, "But I think you miss those bumbling cousins of ours. You four have been near inseparable since you came home." To his surprise, Haldor chuckled over the sound of their horse's hooves clipping and clopping down the road.

"Believe it or not even I can grow tired of their company. Their father was adamant though that they needed to return home for a while to help with the harvest and the herds. Both have apparently grown to be quite a handful while they were gone."

"Oh yes?" Branon said, happy that the conversation had turned to more pleasant things. "That's a good problem to have."

The wind glided over over them in gentle breezes, it buffeted the fur trimmed cloaks around their shoulders that covered their martial attire. Branon was in his full armor regalia; black mail and laminate under dark plate lacking only a helm which left the long strands of his dark hair to be ruffled slightly by the breeze. He was much the vision of a knight but the colors he wore clashed with the silver and blue of his the men at arms behind him and especially the banners and bannermen in front of him. Many who saw him south of the White mountains thought this strange, but many even in his own country knew little about the guardians of Gondor's beacons or their typical garb of shades usually reserved for mourning. For his part, Haldor might have been mistaken for one of his own men at arms. He wore the mail of silver but besides his breastplate, shoulder coverings, vambrances, and grieves wore no distinctive steel armor that might mark him as a knight. The truth was, though in a family of lofty Dunedain men, Haldor took much after his mother's kin in stature and full plate, he'd found early on, was quite uncomfortable. Neither of the two would be surprised if strangers found it hard to believe that they were brothers. While Branon was tall and pale skinned, Haldor was a head shorter with ruddy hair and fairer skin, and it had been many a year since the two had been seen together in public very often.

"Speaking of problems," Haldor replied "Does the Prince always send summons without giving a proper reason?"

"The Prince did not send these summons." Branon answered. "He is away on errantry from his seat and has left one Lord Aphadon in his place."

"So in other words you don't know why we are summoned? Not even a rumor?" Haldor said quickly getting to the heart of the matter. Branon was still not completely used to that change. He remembered his brother being much more at ease but he supposed living in the wilderness of Harondor could teach anyone to focus on the details.

"Rumors are rumors." Branon replied. "But the ones I have heard speak of Corsairs in the Bay."

"Black flags in blue waters." Haldor intoned. "No matter how one looks at it, there will be conflict."

"You thought we brought our swords to look tough?" Branon said with a smirk. The two laughed as they neared the castle gates and the great doors that led them in.


The Prince's Hall

By the time their horses were stabled and the group had made their way to the doors of the hall, the brothers found them to be closed. Though many servants and guards loitered outside speaking quietly amongst themselves in the courtyard, voices could be heard clearly inside.

"It seems we are a tad late." Branon said, the annoyance in his voice clear. Haldor simply smiled, his brother's familiar preference for punctuality a ressurance to him.

"Don't you know what they say about saving the best for last, brother? Let's get in there before all the knights of the realm sail out without us." He said, patting his older brother on the shoulder.

The guards ensured that the door was opened as quietly as possible, one by one the procession from house Raelwen made their way inside and began to accumulate again near the rear of the crowd that had gathered about the prince's throne.

"Let me guess, milord....the Corsairs have raided Tolfolas?" The brothers heard Sir Halion saying as they found their places in the crowd. They then listened to Aphadon reply in the affirmative. So the rumors were true; war stirred in the Bay and their old nemesis from Umbar had once again turned to strike at the fair coast. Who knew what kind of chaos the raiders could do if they were allowed to go beyond Tolfolas? Who knew indeed, Haldor took a step forward when Aphadon called for support but his brother put a hand in front of him.

"What was that you said about the best for last? Trust me, these court dealings are delicate things." Branon said. Haldor simply nodded and said nothing. Court politics had never been his forte, he disliked the falseness they sometimes seemed to encourage but his older brother seemed to be well within his element. It was not hard to see why considering he'd spent all his time home while Haldor navigated the rocks and sand of the southern territory.

They watched representatives; knights, squires, and others one by one raise their voices, flash their swords, and otherwise pledge their fealty to the cause set before them. It was an inspiring site and continued to remain so even when Sir Legrin asked them what the quest be without his house's aid.

"Perhaps just a tad bit more peaceful. Corsairs are one thing but Corsairs and the company of Mir?" Branon whispered to his brother who concealed a snicker. He had not been home for long but Sir Legrin's reputation for irritability seemed to proceed him vastly. He felt a sudden pang of pity for the man's squire.

After a few more had come forwards, Branon suddenly began making his way through the crowd. Those who turned to see him stepped aside, knowing his purpose was to make his house's status in this venture known to the court and for that he could not stay in the back where he could not be seen.

"Lord Aphadon you must excuse my tardiness to this meeting but I couldn't help but overhear that we have a slight pirate problem." He said loudly so that all in the court could hear him. For the most part those who did could be heard to chuckle. Branon was well known in the court for making light of the problems presented there to keep up good spirits, of course there were those who sometimes took offense at a perceived belittling of tragic events but those who had heard of him had no doubt of Sir Branon's abilities and venerable status on the field of battle and in the court itself.

"As for my part, my sword is for the prince's realm and his subjects. And as for my house so are the swords of all the men my father can spare." He declared, his sword hand, still wearing his long riding gloves, firmly gripping the hilt of the sword sheathed in his belt.

"As is mine." Haldor agreed, coming to stand next to his brother, his gloved hand likewise on his sword's hilt, his face set with a duty they both felt. "They will rue the day that they stirred the hearts of lions."

19/Jan/2014, 10:25 PM

Matsu, Keket and Uhta
Prospective Corsairs/Stowaways aboard a Corsair Ship

All hail the mighty Captain, Kekets tone dripped carelessly with sarcasm, and earned him a rancid glance from his elder brother. The fetid stench of bilge water assailed his every sense and impressed a foul mood that would not be warned off provoking his sibling. Tell me, Matsu, is this just how you envisaged it ?

The taller man, though it was impossible to tell, cramped as they were with knees braced hard against their shoulders, spat, without concern and watched the spittle run its passage down the deep set grooves of Kekets hollowed cheeks. Matsu regarded his antagonist boldly, as Keket strove to swipe at the offensive discharge with the back of a skeletal hand. In doing so, he jarred against their third wheel, an elbow disappearing about the mighty bulk of Uhtas gaudy shirt.

I didnt hear you coming out with any better plan ! Matsu reminded the mutineer, pointedly. Keket allowed for the discordant creak of the timber to speak up overwhelming silence on his behalf. There was no answer to such a rebuke which would not rile Matsu up into a fight that neither one of them knew well enough to back down from. Already the surly pair wore bruises as other sailors wore tattoos. Their youngest member, Uhta, had opted for the uniform tattoos of most of their kind, and did not concern himself with either his siblings petty squabbling or the resulting contusions.

Sssshhhhhh ! he bade them both to recall their precarious position. The last thing they required was to be discovered by the crew of their selected vessel. Not that they were enemies of their fellow Umbarians by any means. Matsu had merely devised the nature of their passage to Tolfalas in a way as to ensure as little actual labour as he could manage to avoid.
When we get there and have to it, he had assured his brethren, excitedly, no one will even question where we came from. They will each assume we travelled as crew on anothers ship. It is perfect !

The journey had been less than perfect. Uhta had surrendered unto nausea, noisily, on more than one occasion, which was almost certainly due to the amount or the standard of what he had consumed before they set forth. The residue of vomit rankled sourly still in his throat, despite that he had eagerly partaken of the stored grog that was happily close by to their hidden corner, deep within the bowels of the ship.
We will be there soon, Matsu repeated, as a mantra. Keket rolled his eyes. They could not arrive soon enough for him.
Shhhhhh ! Uhta slammed a fat finger mercilessly against his brothers lips to further his point, and Matsu shoved him angrily back against the wall that propped the drunken sailor upright. Keket sighed. Not soon enough was for certain the understatement of their unproductive year. Hopefully the swag they each hoped to obtain during this raid would make it all worthwhile.

<Morwen edit: This thread is now closed. Thanks for playing!>