Lord Panther

Happy Birthday Gyrfalcon! Hope it treats you well.

Well, from the wolves point of view, we knew you weren't the seer the night we got the OR.

Thanks for a good game all. It was definatley fun. From a wolf's point of view, keeping the role kills secret was both helpful and worrysome. I had no idea, except when I saw everyone with the OR, if the seer or baner was still out there. It also kept it so that the villagers didn't know that they did have only one wolf left about half way through the game.

Panther saunters into the room in his customary robes and wades through the remaining kittens to read the sign by CheerMynx... Hmm, flying lessons... well, I can give them a shot... wonder what type of mount we'll be using. Nothing can compare to my dragon, but I'll give it a try. Panther digs into his robes and pulls out the ten geld. He slowly hands CheerMynx the coins, making sure that he has the right amount.

After dragging Seothen into relative safety with Linador's help, Garnorn himself, took advantage of the slower pace, to lean against a cool stone wall and catch his breath for a few seconds. As Seothen passed from the world, Garnorn lowered his head in respect to the horseman, knowing that he had fought the good fight against the evil that was bashing against the very doors of this keep. He was saddened that they quest had lost such a committed soul. He also knew that Seothen had suspected him for being an agent of either Sauron or Sauruman the White, and had not kept his suspicions to himself. This was a natural thing in a journey as perilous as they have taken, and everyone had their own suspicions, everyone wanted to know who would keep them safe and who wanted the ring of power for themselves. Garnorn himself had suspected others, it was the natural way of things. He just hoped that the others would see him for what he is. A defender of the fellowship, a friend to them all, and hopefully one of the saviors of Middle Earth...

Yes yes, we don't want Tanny to kill herself... then how would the game end? I'd hate to think...

A very happy birthday to you! hope its a good day!

Sorry if my post seems rushed... an unusually busy day at work, and this was the only chance (likely) that I would be able to vote... and well, ya gotta vote, right?

Despite being overjoyed to see Gandalf, Garnorn was desturbed by the death of another of his friends. He wondered who would have had anything against the halfling, they kept to themselves, mostly, and were jolly, jovial people. The only thing that he could think of was that maybe Irvin had brought an enemy with him. Garnorn had heard that there were definate feuds between different hobbit families, but didn't think they took things this far... [ooc: vote for Finnius => Filkiormous Magnanimous Berrison]

Garnorn was once again saddened by the dwindling numbers of their fellowship. The fall that Túrin took did not look like an accident... not to someone who had spent so much time in the wilderness. But, to set such a trap, would take skill, skill of many, many years, and the strenght to arrange thing just so, so that it wasn't too apparent that it was a trap. His mind could only come to one conclusion, though he had never heard of their kind doing such harm to the other races, they didn't exactly interact with the other races often enough to know for certain. He certainly had the strenght, and probably the knowledge of the land in order to set the trap. In Garnorn's mind, Rootmaker would be the only one able to set this trap, and pull it off... [OOC: vote for Katz/Rootmaker]

Garnorn let his paddling pace slow somewhat, now that they were out of range from those horrid orc archers. How had they found them so fast, and so close to Lothlorien? The orcs that had attacked them on their way into the forest were no more, so they couldn't have got a message to their bretheren that way... someone had to have told them where and when their party would be found. Garnorn had strong suspicions already as to who that person was, thus why he didn't mind being boated with her, so he could keep a close eye on her actions, and reactions. He was still puzzled, and probably would be for all time, as to why anyone would betray them to such vile creatures of the darkness... [OOC: vote for Phoenix/Megwyn]

Well, sorry to see you're dead, but hope the convention is good.

Garnorn listened intently to what the others were saying, about themselves, and about the others in the group. Not all knew that he was listening, as he didn't interact with everyone, in fact, he was taking in the beauty of Lothlorien. And a beautiful sight it was. Things were also mulling around in his head, thoughts that were half there, images that were half seen.... Trying to put together who could be the source of the evil that is plaguing their journey. Everyone in the company knew that the ring must be destroyed, at all costs, but was the mounting cost of lives worth it to the others in the fellowship? He hoped that the quest would be seen through. Turning back to who could have been causing the troubles, he had several faces come around him, some he dismissed, some he was curious about. One face did stick out... this face could be acting vengefully for the loss of her friend... after all, friendship is a huge bond out in the wilderness... [ooc: vote for Phoenix/Megwyn]

Garnorn caught his breath with what remained of the party, then quickly went over the routine of checking everyone for wounds, and treating those that were suffered. He was saddened that Mattias had fallen at the bridge, but he knew that he had sacrificed to save the rest of them. At least that's what he told himself. They wouldn't be able to get disheartened now, they had such a very long road ahead of them, and they needed to stay focused, stay strong, and push into the heart of darkness, in order to cut it out. Knowing that they were headed to Lothlorien, he hoped that the elves that lived there would have better news for them, for that is what they truely needed.

Overhearing what Mattias was saying about Turin, and thinking things over himself, it did make sense as to what the elf was saying. He too wondered if Turin was maybe pointing fingers at others to possibly hide his own guilt, his own misdeeds... [ooc: vote for Turin. Sorry for the lack-luster post, was dealing with computer issues...]

Garnorn slowed his pace, taking him to the back of the now shortened group, making sure that the little people did not get left behind in the hurry through the corridors and halls. He was sadened to see another of the fellowship fall, especially in these halls that will never see light. But still, their quest lay ahead of them, they must take the ring to the mountain of fire, it must be cast into the fires from whence it came. He just hoped that everyone else would make it from these dark places, out into the light, and that the goblins and trolls were all that they found on their journey through these mines... [ooc: no vote yet]

After making sure he had made it in the doorway in one piece, with as much gear as possible, Garnorn started checking over the others in the party, making sure that no one had any broken bones that would need attending to. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Filk looking like he was going to start cracking a joke, or otherwise making a ruckuss. He quickly stepped up behind the halfling, and put his hand silently on his shoulder. He spoke in a low tone, so that his voice would not carry further than the fellowship that was present. "Be silent now. There was enough noise when that thing took down the doors. We don't know what kind of dangers are going to be present here, so it is probably best to hear them before they hear us. If we are lucky, we will not be seen our heard in our entire journey through these corridors. Besides, we don't want to lose any more members of our fellowship, at least not if we can help it, and especially not to foolishness" With the halfling settled, Garnorn continued helping the rest of the group repack their gear as they could for the long walk that was going to be ahead of them through the mines of Moria...

After loosing a few of his own arrows, making corpses of what used to be wolves, Garnorn drew his sword and swung his way into the fray. Careful not to strike one of his companions, or to have a warg fall on them, he made short work of any wolves that came his way, either slicing the neck, or piercing the heart. These were creatures that were definatley detrimental to their journey, so he had no problems with dispatching them. The onslaught seemed never ending, hopefully all the fighters would hold up, so that they would survive the night to continue their journey. {edited for spelling}

mmm, venison... *goes to get a meal...*

lol... good point... But in this case, who wins the game? All players win, mod loses?

Garnorn found it hard to believe what he was hearing in whispers and undertones around the group. How could they think that a ranger would kill a beast of burdern, when it would be needed in their long and arduous journey. He was just as angry, if not moreso, with the death of the animal, as it would make everyone carry more, and as such, they wouldn't be as light on their feet. That would not be good, if they were to get into a fight... Sure, it was true that he could be very silent when needed, and he knew how to handle a blade... but really, who around here didn't know? Even Stoomp knew how to cut things with a knife. His suspicions ran around his head for a while, before coming forward and presenting themselves to his conscious mind. There was someone in the group that knew very well how to handle a blade, someone who maybe didn't quite understand the need for beasts of burden in such a long adventure... [OOC: Vote for Savage Dragon/Raus Tanathos]

I never thought of that. I doubt it would work, though. Yeah, I guess your track record in that respect is not too good, eh?

Being a man of the woods, and used to being alone for long periods of time, Garnorn stuck to himself mostly, collecting what supplies he needed. What had initially brought him to Rivendell anyways. He only hoped that the others would pack what they would *need* and not what they *wanted*. The lands between Rivendell and Mordor were treacherous, and if ill prepared, the journey could turn sour. After sacking his supplies, Garnorn made sure to stop in at the elven smith's to have a clean edge ground onto his sword, and to the fletcher to get some precise elven arrows, just in case. The journey would be long and hard, and he wasn't about to be caught off guard.

Having been in conversation with Mattias, and abstaining from the elven drink as to not dull his senses, Garnorn had missed being involved in the ruckus that unfolding in front of his eyes. Never before had he seen such a group of travelers in Rivendell. Surely it was something important that Elrond had for them, if he had collected such a group together. He intended to be a full part in it, just not a full part of what was going on currently. Quietly, cup of water in hand, Garnorn walkes over to the table of foods, fills his plate with a few choice items, and returns off to the side so that he can observe and learn more about the others. Knowing that there will definately be conflicts to come, with mish-mash of races present, he was determined to be one of the peace-keepers and not allow the others to kill one another.

Garnorn, Human Ranger Not a great deal is known about Garnorn, he is a ranger of slightly above average hight, dark hair, dark eyes, and light skin that has been darkened by the sun. He is known to survive in the great forests and plains around Rivendell, but his actual activities are unknown. He is rather secretive, only coming into town and to Rivendell to replenish what few supplies he cannot find or fashion himself.