The Grand Gazeebo

[Anamatar IV]

In the middle of a great flat field covered with swaying grasses a dozen horses rode pulling six carts behind them. They stopped in the exact center of the field. Out of one cart appeared Anamatar in workclothes. He looked back to the rest of campus. Four more carts were coming. They came up to where Anamatar stood. Many workmen and builders jumped out of the carts and stepped to the first six. They unloaded the stacks of wood that filled them.

"We should have this gazeebo up by the end of the day," Anamatar spoke to the forty of so builders that were arrayed around him. "Remember, we are in need of haste! I am expecting to use this tomorrow!" With those words the workers sprang to their feet and started building a great gazeebo. When it would be done it would easily fit three hundred and more people. The plans called for a large stage to be set at one end. A large hole would be cut from the roof to allow people to view the stars over head.

The group worked hard, setting up the frame for the Grand Gazeebo first.

[Anamatar IV]

Some time had gone by since the start of the building. The Gazeebo was now taking shape. The workers Anamatar had brought had laid down the floor and had the frame standing. But the floor took much longer as it was not of wood. It was of black marble. The workers had to cut the stone to shape and then place it. The floor took the majority of the building.

Anamatar looked at the gazeebo from afar. It was about half way done.

[Anamatar IV]

At last! What a sight to behold! The Grand Gazeebo standing tall against the wind. After long hours the workers had set up the actual gazeebo. Now what was left was furnishing and the finishing of it. The workers set to the building of chairs and benches and some studded sparkling jewels under the windows and on the roof. This gazeebo would be a fair thing to look upon, fairest among all the buildings of Heren Istarion.

[Anamatar IV]

"Behold in all its glory!" Anamatar called out to the workers as the last gem was studded into place. "The Grand Gazeebo, great as all the works in Heren Istarion would show! It will glisten a soothing blue in the mists of dawn and burn with the rays of fire in sunset. Now, ever when one says 'Heren Istarion' the Grand Gazeebo will come to mind!" With that the workers packed up and rode back to campus. But Anamatar lingered. He had to prepare.

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo sounded his great horn. The students and teachers were being summoned to the newly built Grand Gazeebo in Heren Istarion. They marvelled at the works of it as they passed through its arching door into a great room.

When all had seated and were looked at the stage Ingolemo strode up to the podium. In a clear voice he called out.

"I have summoned you here for a very special event. The likes of which have not been seen and will most likely not be seen ever again in Heren Istarion. When you leave Heren Istarion I would like you to cherise this moment." Ingolemo paused.

"It is with great pleasure," he continued. "To introduce someone whose very footsteps shake the pillars of the earth. One who can strike fear into the hearts of the strong and turn hatred into love. There is only one who could be the one I speak of! Please welcome Dengen-Goroth, Dark Lord of Arda!" The students and trainers gasped at these words as a shadow seemed to be cast over them. Some of the weak of heart cried aloud for the name Goroth had travelled about the many lands. A foot step that rumbled in the ground was heard off stage...

[Eöl]

Celebrien placed his hands lightly on the hilt of Anglachel, and wondered Why in Eru's name is Dengen-Goroth here? He glanced at the other audience members, and several trembled. He noticed that his hands were shaking as well.

[ms Greenleaf]

Charmiana did not tremble but looked up in awe...for truly this creature was ful of awe. What immortal hand or eye could frame they fearful symetry. Then Charmiana tried something she had heard of long ago...talking through the mind. Could this artwork do such a thing? [B]Hi

[Nenya Evenstar]

Nenya settled down comfortably in the cushions of the chair she had brought. She was extremely excited for this event, for she knew that the stores of the Dark Lord's brain were of unimaginable depth. He had so much to share with the students and the teachers alike, she knew, and so she settled back to listen, forgetting all diplomatic relations for a few blessed hours.

[ILLOTRTM]

Valanthe sat happily in her seat and listened. She felt great excitement that this new guest was here, and she knew this would be more of a treat than any of them could expect. She remained silent, but could not keep a slight smile from spreading over her face.

[Scatha]

Farathorn, who had stood by and merely watched, noticed his hands slid onto the hilts of his swords, but refrained from drawing them fully. The sound of the name sent a shiver down his spine, but he remained calm on the outside.

[Dengen-Goroth]

There came upon the great gazebo a stern silence, unsettling to some of stout heart, luridly unsettling to others. As the beams of Anor ceased to fall upon those gathered, and a chill wind swept through them the Dark Lord came. He wore vestments of ebon and gold, which seemed to radiate naught, but to draw all light towards it. He paused to great Anamatar, as well as exchanging some words with individuals in the front row before coming upon the great stage. With measured steps he came before the podium, and turned to face the assembled of Heren Istarion. His glacial glance roamed over each and every man and woman, his countenance bereft of emotions. There was nothing but silence and the collective sentiment of apprehension, which was plentiful as rain in spring shower. And then, even as fleeting moment passed like to dawdling hour he spoke.
"Lord Anamtar, Lady Nenya Evenstar, Lord Canaleo, Lord Elessar, Lady Valanthe, Lord Alkorr, Lord Farathorn, and esteemed members of Heren Istarion. I have the distinct honor and personal pleasure of addressing you all this approaching eve on a matter which is, dare I say, the cornerstone of this guild, role playing. It is as much an art as a science, an expression of one's intellect and imagination, as one's will to create and imagine. And it is not a skill learned with ease," Goroth here paused and then continued with a smirk, "Or, at least, I found it to be very difficult. And that, if nothing else, is the underlying theme of the trek to becoming a successful RPer, individuality. One must create for him or herself, from the infinite thoughts and potential of their own mind, a 'style' unique to oneself. The RPer can not afford to imitate the works of another, for then they fail at their 'vocation'. They do not bring into being a unique character, in a unique story, thus weakening what they set out to make greater, the story. We are sculptors, artists, skilled craftsmen, for our craft is in creating and, unlike the aforementioned trades, in being what we create while we create. Within our individual writings we imbue into a character their essence, we view their world through their eyes, and live their journeys, their trials and tribulations, their hardships, joys, and sorrows. We create them, and, in many ways, they create us. Through our inner dedication to constructing a powerful character who will not easily be forgotten, but will leap from written page into the minds of the reader, we create for ourselves an aptitude for living. To experience their emotions we must experience our own, to be true to them we must mine into our own encounters and emotions. The character will remain a dormant being, a figure scantly worth the briefest glimpse or more then a moment of one's time, unless we create a being who the reader can identify with. A being with which the reader shares a moment of laughter, a pang of grief, a moment from their life paralleled by the character. This, however, on a fundamental basis. It is highly unlikely that a fire drake bore down upon the reader's village and slew the inhabitants with a malicious relish, or so I hope. If you may be, as I speak, pausing and saying, 'the man is mad, deserves the title of Dark Lord no doubt, scary with his creepy sentences that contradict each other, or just don't make sense'. I fully agree, I've said from the beginning that I found this RPing thing to be very difficult for myself to comprehend, and I know understand its even harder to explain." He paused and slowly indulged in a brief moment of pause and in the cool elixir known as water. "We must employ our experiences in our characters, for this shapes our individual style, our character's personality, and assures that we are successful RPers.

There must also be present in an RPer the will, nay the determination, to create an outstanding story. This is as vital to one's success in RPing as individuality and the prowess in forging a complex and fascinating character. We may, through great effort, attain those qualities, however how will they serve us, how will they be made visible to the world, if we do not wish to make them so. Do sculptors allows their hands to lay latent, do artists conceal their works in subterranean chambers never to come under outside eyes. Surely not, the effort placed within their work is integral in it being formed, and demands and deserves recognition. Create individuality and spirit, and let the world receive it and marvel at it, have pride within what you have wrought. These are your works, your effort, your time employed in creating the story. Within each and every successful RP lay driven RPers, not one or a portion, not a fraction or a majority, but the entirety of those involved. This is as sure as the sun rising in the east and setting within the west, or of the aged RPer boring those assembled before him. An RPer must not know timidity, futility, or any other -ility. If you place effort into your work, if you enrich and enliven the tale you must tell as best as you can, you will find applause and unanimous praise. Have the drive to create your work, take great pride in it, for it is unlike any other. Make it so.

It is when you have gathered these traits unto your being, and have applied them that you encounter and must conquer the last great obstacle. That is within constructing an RP with the other participants. One must approach the very concept of an RP ever keeping in mind that it is an ever changing being, enhanced by each and every mind who works for its creation and success. An RP is not built by the one, but by the many, and the many rely on the one. It is a strange complex, the RP, where as a community the whole is as important to its success as the one. I have outlined briefly the necessities to be found and cultivated by the one, but now we must examine the dynamics of the whole. When I was engaged in among my first RP's, I believe the second, I was left lacking any knowledge of what I have described prior. Within, what has come to be called simply RP:5, I had a set storyline. Having initiated the RP into being I constructed for it over time a, in my opinion then an engaging plot, and was making my utmost effort to install it. I admit now I did not approach any of the other members with this plan, bur that is a trifle of a detail. As the RP progressed I found my storyline altered, and this by the ideas of the other RPers. This was an enriching and very entertaining experience, as I was forced to mould my vision to what was being implemented by others, and concluded my efforts by fully discarding my long-term plot. We twisted the story to our whims, none knew how the story would conclude until it did, none knew the next addition to the story until it was posted, and yet we all worked as a cohesive unit, supportive and constructive. This was evidenced yet again in RP:20, where the members shaped the plot as we continued the story. These were the two greatest RP's I have as of yet been involved with, which have reached a completion. A member of an RP must be ready and willing to create an RP, and likewise to share in the creation of an RP. Individuality, drive, commitment, and community are what an RPer will and must know in any successful RP.

The words I have spoken are brief, doing scant justice to the complexity, enormity, and sheer pleasure found within Role Playing. Each and every one of you will discover them, will complete the trek which is both arduous and enriching. Yet we, each and every one who endeavors to journey this road, will find it a path well worth traveling. What you are all presented with in Heren Istarion is an opportunity to forego many of the lessons learned through hardship. I urge you to embrace this, to hold respect for this superb faculty and for the duty they are entrusted with. We are all mariners in this great sea, our craft sturdy yet only through our own will, our path charted but not completed without our will, our crew many yet worthless if not acting together.

I thank you all for being patient and listening to me amble on. I would especially like to thank Lady Nenya Evenstar and Lord Anamatar for inviting me here and aiding me through this process. Now we'll enter a second phase of this lecture, the question and answer part. Anyone here who has any questions whatsoever for me, please ask and I will answer to the best of my ability."

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo stood after the Lord's words.

"Goroth, looming over my mind is a question of which I must get an answer to!" He spoke in a voice clearer than any other in Heren Istarion had heard him. He straightened up not as an old man would. Has old age completely left this man for a moment? "I have other things to do aside from sit and role play all day long, and it hurts my eyes and hands to watch the screen and type so much. How do you manage to make such long and eloquent posts? How long did it take you to finish this one post? I think there is a lesso to be learned in this..." Ingolemo's words trailed off into nothingness as all the people gathered there were hushed awaiting the answer of Goroth.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Goroth paused and allowed for a smile to encrouch upon his features before speaking.
"Within a well wrought post there must be, beside the drive to create, the patience in creating. A sculptor has patience, as does an artist, it is required of them. So to must an RPGer have patience, create their posts to suite their requirements. The post took me, in all, near to fourty-five minutes or so. This disregarding any interference with the writing process. My drive to create this was seconded by my commitment to it."

[¤-Elessar-¤]

Elessar, who was leaning comfortably on a side wall, spoke.
"Dengen, you spoke of one finding their own character, their own being. You implied that it was a very... fundamental piece of the puzzle that we construct for our students here.

"I, however, do not beleive that is nessesarily true. I do not think that the Heren Istarion puts too much of her emphasis upon individuality, but more upon the skills which are required to survive in the RP world, and to eventually acheive that personality. Pre-determining your character's direction and attitude toward it is a very cumbersome thing to do, it is most often better to let things flow as they would. Do you not agree?"

[Dengen-Goroth]

"A superb question Lord Elessar. When an RPer creates a character, I believe, it must not be a "templet" character. From the onset a character must be unique, otherwise they will be most uninteresting. Individiduality must be a skill for an RPer to excel in the RP World. On the point you made concerning it being cumbersome to create individual characters at every rp, the character's do not have to have an entire bography to their name. Begin the character with as humble a description as can be, and then follow the "flow"as the RP continues."

[Scatha]

Farathorn rose and addressed the dark lord.

"From my past experience, I have always found it to be easier to create a character with a modest background, then play them out as much as possible, giving them character and more detail throughout your storylines, in which the character is involved."

He paused and continued, finally stating his question at hand.

"Also, a character having a flaw, that is played out in the stories it is involved in, can be very rewarding for the player and his fellow players. Often characters like these are the most entertaining or even rewarding to play, don't you agree?"

He stared at Dengen-Goroth and calmly awaited his reply. His hand remained rested on the hilt of his sword however, as if being prepared for an oncoming attack.

[Dengen-Goroth]

"I agree wholeheartedly. Those characters are, indeed, a pleasure to play as well as to read. They undoubtedly enhance the RP, and I would say many characters do end up having some flaw or other. To contrive the flaw is a challenge in itself, and is undoubtedly an aspect in my argument for originality." Goroth nodded to signify the conclusion of his response.

[ILLOTRTM]

Valanthe stood to address the Dark Lord. She felt very nervous about speaking to him directly. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before speaking.
"I first want to say that your lecture has been quite a treat for me. I have been inspired by your words. Now, as for my question I ask you this; do you ever have trouble trying to make choices for your character while trying to stick to their personality? I find at times when it comes time for my character to make a decision I will sometime have trouble making a choice my character would make, as some of my characters are much different than I. Do you understand what I mean?"

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne wanders near to the Gazebo, standing close, arms crossed, but hidden behind a lilac bush. Unable to face her Dark Lord so clothed, in the white gowns she donned as symbol of her truce to the leaders of Heren Istarion for the duration of her training, she hides and watches.
Listening.
As the heady fragrance of the soft purple flowers invades her nostrils she smiles and thinks, "The Dark Lord does well today. His words ring true."

[Nenya Evenstar]

Nenya sat in complete silence, musing over Dengen's words. She agreed with them all and honestly hoped that each and every one of the students had listened with open ears to the words of wisdom spoken before them. Even though the Dark Lord was fully evil and Nenya detested evil with all her worth, she had come to a sort of compromise of respect within her heart for all the people who followed Dengen-Goroth and his legions. She knew not why but knew only that somehow it spurned from a captivity she had experience in the past. She shivered.

Making herself forget thoughts of pain and lessons learned through hardship, Nenya listened for the sounds of questions behind her, hoping desperately that someone besides the teachers would speak out with the questions that she knew were there.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Goroth paused, allowing for thought before speaking. "Indeed, when I delve into the mind of my character I am often beset by questions concerning how to mold him or her, and find the 'maintanence' of the character a greater challenge then creating him. What the RPer must strive to accomplish is instilling him or herself into the position of the character, in many ways. I find myself inquiring as to how the character, with all that I know of him at that point, would react, though this scantly. For within inumerous posts I simply write, and pause little for thought. It is like to tapping into a mighty river, the RPer but a vessel carried by that mighty stream wither it may lead. Allow yourself to fall within the tale, the character, and in this way much will be incorporated into your posts without your considering it."

[ILLOTRTM]

Valanthe smiled with gratitude and sat down, fully satisfied with the answer she had just gotten. She tried to make mental notes of everything that was happening in the gazeebo, she wanted to remember it all. She folded her hands and waited for another to arise with a question.

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne watches from behind the branches of the lilac bush, listening, absorbing, and smiling proudly.

"Listen to how well he speaks.." she thinks to herself. "Look at the way they all pay heed to him, even those that think him cruel. The power he commands!"

Arianne continues to beam behind her bush as she waits with baited breath for more of the Dark Lord's sermon.

[Anamatar IV]

Anamatar stood from his seat very fearfully with a small knife hidden in the sleeve of his cloak. Even from afar in the back of the gazeebo great fear was seen on his fear. He had not known Lord Goroth as well as Ingolemo had. His arms tremored slightly as he stuttered and tried to speak.

"Lo--lord Goroth," he stammered, "reading your posts is always such a pleasure to me. They have a beautiful poetic sense them. It is hypnotic reading them. What advice would you give to aspiring role players to make their posts poetic and hypnotic?" Anamatar's grip on his knife lessened. He glanced quickly at Ingolemo who grunted with satisfaction.

[Snaga]

A small commotion ensued at the back of the assembly, as a dark figure, not large but imposing nonetheless, thrust aside some that sat agog in the aisles craning their necks and hanging on every word. Pushing his way through with loping strides, with a nonchalent leer upon his lips he approached the front of the gazebo with a swagger.

'Greetings Lord Goroth!' Snaga spoke in a tone suggesting both nonchalence and humility, but also a sneering contempt for those about him.

'Who could doubt your words?' he hissed mockingly at their discomfiture. 'But say on for perhaps more could be said of the need for detail and understanding. For is it not the regard for crunch of gravel beneath ones feet, the chill of frost in the morning air, sullen gloom the lingers amidst the angular carvings of the pillars of Moria, the gnawing cruelty of the rocks of Ephel Duath ... is not regard for these things that brings texture to a bland and dispiriting world? Thus in bringing the sharp zest of the world to arrest the senses, does not the world spring to life in the minds eye? And moreover, with the sensations invading the mind, does not all reason and decision get infected, as darkness or light may alter mood? What of this, O Dark Lord of Arda?'

[Dengen-Goroth]

"To create such 'hypnotic' posts, I recommend delving into literary works. I am oft known for obtaining inspiration through a recent novel I read, or other work of the pen. It is a journey, like all else in RPing, and must be embarked upon with light spirit, and one which is determined to create the posts which will grasp the reader's mind." Goroth paused, and then heard the voice of the Urukgush. A fell grin marked Goroth's countenance as he replied.
"Indeed Lord Urukgush you speak truth! An RPer must create powerful backdrops, describe the locale in as great detail as he or she may see fit. However there is a dilemma encountered in that one must not describe overly much and then craft a simple move of the character. There must be a balance found, and this depends solely upon the 'style' of the RPer."

[Scatha]

With a swift but steady pace, Farathorn approached the orc, his tred light and near inaudible to even an elf. His eyes focussed on the orc's back, while he unwillingly slid his blade out of its sheath. As he pushed the cold, green glowing edge against the armor of Urukgush, he hissed a short and sharp sentence.

"I do not recall anyone mentioning inviting a Glamhoth to speak."

He looked at Ingolemo from the corner of his eye, expecting him to either nod or tell him otherwise. The decision to be made was that of the Guildmaster or his guest.

From the gathered crowd, the looks on their faces best described as startled or one of disbelief, a sudden silence fell. The instructor glanced at Dengen Goroth, his face void of emotion, but trembling within himself, then spoke towards the podium.

"Without any disrespect meant, did either of you Lords invite this person or can I proceed and end its miserable existance here and now?"

The silence held on, as he addressed the dark lord again, the words clearly audible and only intermittantly broken by the sounds of birds.

"Establishing an atmosphere and a personality for your character can be difficult, oh lord of darkness, which is only made even more difficult if people post reactions or actions regarding an other person's PC (player character). How can this be circumvented?"

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo was taken back at the sudden appearance of the Lord Snaga and at the possibility of blood being shed within the walls of Heren Istarion's greatest work.

"Indeed we did not invite the Urukgush to this event," he said forcing a smile. "But lest Heren Istarion draw the terror of the Misty Mountains deep into Arnor for the slaying of their lord, I will ask, Lord Farathron, that you not slay him." Snaga's eyes took a fire into them as he reached for his own hilt. "And the same goes for you, Lord!" Ingolemo said sharply. "Perhaps Lord Snaga can give a lecture, however unplanned, after the scheduled events?"

As Ingolemo said these words Anamatar stood up. "Speaking of such events, Farathorn's question for you, Lord Goroth, will have to be the last. We are forever grateful for your visit to Heren Istarion and for enlightening us with your knowledge vast!" The crowd gathered in the gazeebo applauded cheerfully.

[Scatha]

Farathorn nodded at Ingolemo, then withdrew his blade and turned towards his preferred spot, whispering a few words before he walked back there. "Luck is with you today, Lord Yrrch, perhaps one of us will not be as fortunate, whenever next we meet." The half elf calmly walked away.

[Snaga]

The lust to spill the blood of the Farathorn surged through him, blood pounding in his ears for a moment, but the Urukgush had long since mastered such desires. Not a flicker of it showed upon his face, as he licked his lips and grinned arrogantly.

'A lecture?' replied Snaga, an eyebrow arching gleefully. 'It would be my great pleasure. Perhaps I should talk to you of storylines... or perhaps I should say.. of plots?'

[Scatha]

Farathorn turned and glanced at the Glamhoth Lord, a grin on his face. "The pleasure will be mine, oh greenskinned one. Should you wish to discuss storylines or plots, then by all means do."

A sparkle filled the eyes of the half elf, which showed his human side. The Numenorean blood within him stirred.

[Nenya Evenstar]

Nenya watched the scene from her bench, her eyes an odd mixture of pain and forsight. She did not move or speak, but rather stared towards the Lord Goroth, her eyes seeing visions and thoughts that may or may not be.

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne closed her eyes, a pained expression playing across her face and she shrank deeper still into the fragrant lilacs as The Urukgush stormed the gazebo. Praying the Lord Snaga would not see her so shamefully attired in the white raiment of peace she inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of lilacs in, exhaling her growing apprehension.
A soft breeze blew the paper-thin petals of the lavender blooms across her cheek as she waited for the tension in the air to crack.
She squeezed her green eyes shut, clutching a willowy branch in one hand, crushing the leaves and tendrils as she willed Nenya to halt her advance.
But to no avail.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Dengen-Goroth nodded towards Ingelmo and then raised his hands to soften the applause. His eyes swept over the gathering, delaying over Farathorn slightly, noting the expression on the man. After a time the applause ceased and Goroth made to answer the final question.
”There, Lord Farathorn, is one of those perplexing enigmas within RPing which, in itself, allows for the observer to view the relationships within it. It is pivotal, as I have said earlier, to create an atmosphere that conveys certain emotions to the reader through the RPer’s posts, just the same it is vital to create for the character a personality. This must be done, clearly, by the RPer in such a manner that he or she may mold the character’s personality to confront different situations. I have stated before that for an RP to find true success it must not be pre-arranged, strictly laid bare before the collective RPing body and simply carried out. The actions must occur, in many cases, spontaneously. This in the sense that an RPer can not anticipate what another RPer will write next, this one of the many joys of RPing. This joy is what demonstrates the prowess of an RPer, for if one can deem oneself a powerful RPer, one may react to different RP situations with versatility and ease. It is not, in any way, a simple task. It is, if anything, taxing to obtain the skills necessary to react in such a manner. However it is necessary. A character must be like an individual, having a personality and demonstrating it through the way in which he or she reacts within different situations. The RPer shapes the RP, as the RP shapes the RPer.” Goroth paused signaling that he had concluded his answer.
“We must remember, as RPers, that we travel along the same river, each in our own vessel, but to whether the storms, the trials which unquestionably lay ahead, we must work alongside each other. As the seed of an idea is cast into the earth, it grows due to numerous elements and factors, not one. Let the mighty trunk of our RP’s rise over the horizons we have set as of now, let it venture to break the heavens in its course and topple aged orders. That is its destiny, and it is our duty as its care-taker to ensure that it will do just this.” Goroth paused again, collecting the sparse notes he had brought for this occasion. “I must voice my deep honor and gratitude for this opportunity to speak before such a noble body of Role Players. It is my firm conviction that each one here is a superb RPer, and that together we shall view that fine oak rise and rise, and I hope, never witness it falter. Thank you.” With that Goroth departed.

[Nenya Evenstar]

The applause was deafening. Even though the tides of fate and choices of men stood in the way of truly understanding one another, each person assembled, whether a follower of the West or a follower of the Mornclaur, felt a certain pride and awe. They had listened to the Great Lord's speach and had, with one accord, stood on the same wavelength if only for a short time.

[ILLOTRTM]

Valanthe did her best to make her applause equal the volume and enthusiasm of the others. She was in complete awe of all she had seen and witnessed. She knew there were not many who could equal the skills of Lord Dengen-Goroth. She wondered if everyone else there had appreciated the lecture as strongly as she did?

[Snaga]

The applause subsided at last. Snaga stood and faced the expectant crowd. The wooden floor of the podium creaked slightly between his feet. The air was hot, smothering beneath the fabrics of the tent. The smell of many people hung in the air. He scanned their faces, watching as they fanned themselves: an endless fluttering like bird-wings. A shaft of sunlight entered and shattered in the crystal of the cup of water on the table before him.

Elf, dwarf, men of the west. He caught their bright glances and it hurt him. Not one friend amongst them. He rubbed the dark hair at the back of his neck, slightly anxiously. He was their foe, but without the presence of Dengen-Goroth to command respect and awe. Dengen was the Dark Lord… he was just an orc. They wanted to kill him. He could see fingers resting on sword-hilts. He could smell their hatred. His pulse quickened.

Its always been like this, he thought. Always alone. He thought of his lonely wanderings, hunted through Eriador in his younger days. And now the loneliness of command. He glowered, and drew himself up, fixing a grin upon his face. His emptiness would have to wait. He thrust it to the back of his mind. He had long since steeled himself against it. He would show them none of it. Instead he would prove himself. He would let them know there was much they could learn from an Orc-Lord. But as he stood, his eyes stang slightly and his throat felt dry. I hate this feeling, he thought. Why does it never get easier?

Quickly he ordered his thoughts, and began to speak. He voice was bold, harsh but imperious. He spoke with a commanding certainty: he had ordered thousands to their deaths on the field of battle. His words were laced with a persuasiveness: as one who has seen the future.

‘Today I come before you to tell you of dreams and the future.’ He paused, sensing their surprise and relishing it. Before it could fade he continued.

‘Ever read a book, and been so you forget the world around you and you can barely hear when people speak to you? That you are so transported, that you feel the world of fiction more strongly than the world of fact? Then, my friend, you were dreaming the Fictive Dream. Listen! I’ll tell ya how to transport the reader, so that in your posts the world of the RP comes to life and seems real that they can laugh with your character, hurt when she is wounded, and dance for his joys. Listen and you will learn how to conjure up the Fictive Dream.

‘Next I will describe how you can create the plot of an RP, whether that is the small muck-grubbings of Halflings, or the mighty battles of great warriors. But most of all I want you to grasp that you share the responsibility for the storyline, that you must contribute and shape it, you must nurture it like a wolf-pup that you are raising, seeking to direct but not to force it or break it. So that when it is full grown, it has sharp teeth… it has bite!’

He paused for a moment, surveying the faces before him. Now he was comfortable with himself. He took a few paces, musing, and then continued.

‘Firstly you must in your posts transport your reader. You must make them close their eyes and see the world around your character. How? Does this mean lengthy descriptions? Nah! Just a few sensual details will do it. Here’s a little saying to remember: Show, don’t tell. Here’s an example for you all: Lets say I post: ‘He went into the dark cave and there were a lot of bats in there.’ See anything wrong with that? Tells you what you want to know, right? Does it? How dark is it? How many bats is a lot? Do you feel like you are there? Try: ‘He felt the blackness of cave close about him, and the damp rank smell hung heavily. Something fluttered against his face. A bat! The cave was full of bats. They seemed to fill the air, as he raised his hands to ward them off.’ Better?

‘Give the reader those vivid details. Not so much they get bored, but enough so they can feel themselves there. Paint the picture… but what’s next? I’ll tell ya! You need ‘em to sympathise with your character. Why? Cos you need to get them involved emotionally, you need them to care what happens. How? This is how…

‘Sympathy isn’t the same as admiration. And its not the same as liking or approving of them. But you can feel sorry for them. Take Gollum. A murderer, a habitual liar, corrupt and degraded. But tell me you have no sympathy, and I aint gonna believe ya. You feel sorry for the wretch. You know just a bit what ‘e’s going through. But it could be loneliness, or humiliation, or perhaps some kind of suffering. I hear tell that some of ya sympathise for Frodo cos of the fearful danger he’s in. Stupid hobbit! But the point is this: whoever likes someone who is perfect? In one of my RPs I had my main character Lark enter the RP sick and distraught. Immediately everyone wanted to help her. In another I played Terendul, an evil elf… despicable really. A mass murderer… (I was so proud...) But he was tortured by being corrupt, he longed for freedom from Morgoth.

‘But so, ok, they sympathise – can you make them identify with your character? This is different. This is about gaining sympathy for the goals of your character. Wanting them to succeed. You wanted Frodo to destroy the ring. Admit it!’ Snaga feigned anger… and then grinned. ‘Of course you did. And once you have that identification, it won’t let you go. It’s a great trick. Lark wanted to be free from a song that was possessing her, that was driving her to distraction. While that was unresolved, it gave the RP purpose. In Terendul he wanted love and freedom. Even though what he did in its name was depraved, the identification remained. A character without purpose is flat, dull even.

‘Now the reader identifies, you need them to empathise… and that’s what’s coming next.’ Snaga lifted the cup of water and drank.

[Snaga]

Snaga replaced the glass and licked his lips. Then he continued.

‘What’s the difference between sympathy and empathy?’ he asked, looking around. ‘When you sympathise you feel sorry for their plight. Empathise and you feel their pain as your own. When Merry cries cos Theoden is dead, and he thinks Eowyn is, and he thinks the battle will be lost, I’ll bet you all wanted to cry too. Why? Because you were empathising with him. Now slowly and sadly Merry walked beside the bearers, and he gave no more heed to the battle. He was weary and full of pain, and his limbs trembled as with a chill. and A mist was in Merry’s eyes of tears and weariness when they drew near the ruined Gate of Minas Tirith. He gave little heed to the wreck and slaughter that lay about all. Fire and smoke and stench was in the air; for many engines had been burned or cast into the fire-pits, and many of the slain also… The flying rain had ceased for a time, and the sun gleamed up above; but all the lower city was still wrapped in a smouldering reek. It’s the details of the smell, his tears, his weariness that bring this to life. It’s the description of the little details of how he feels that set off your emotions. Try reading the descriptions of Sam and Frodo’s journey. Sam looked at him, and wept in his heart, but no tears came to his dry and stinging eyes. ‘I said I’d carry him if it broke my back,’ he muttered, ‘and I will.’. Its his ‘dry and stinging eyes’ you feel.

'The idea is you put the reader in place of the character and show them how it is to feel what they are feeling. You now have an emotional bond between the reader and your character… finally you must transport them to your dream…

'This final stage is when the reader is completely immersed. The final thing you can do to grip your reader is make them feel the inner conflict within your character. Notice how Sam debates with himself endlessly as they travel through Mordor. Will they make it? How will they return? Shouldn’t they give up? It is through this, and his determination to see it through that your admiration for him grows, but also that you feel the full gravity of their plight. In the case of Terendul, you are given an insight inside his head. He fears his master, Morgoth, and knows no other way to live so he fears to break free. He both loves and loathes Nuredhel. He is being torn apart by the inner conflict. Who is not conflicted? We all are, and it is through this that we understand each other. Recall how Frodo knew he must leave the Fellowship to go to Mordor but was afraid to start? It was in those passages that you understood him best.

'By showing the conflicting voices inside the head of your character, it adds to the suspense in the story. How will your character react? Will she snap? Will he stay loyal? Will she hide or fight? These are what makes a character interesting, and make the story compelling, and will lift the reader out of his or her world and into yours.

'So let me pause at this point for any questions, before I move on to how to make the story one that is worth the reader going to.’ And he looked around expectantly.

[Scatha]

Farathorn slowly removed his hand from the hilt of his blade, which he crossed in front of his chest, before a single dry comment emanated from his lips. No sound of hatred or anger could be found within the words, as he spoke:
"Never in my life, have I heard an Orc speak this eloquently, perhaps it was for the best that my blade didn't do it's work this time. We'll see what the next time brings."

To the beholders that knew the half-elf, a small glimmer of respect for this orc was audible.

[Anamatar IV]

Anamatar spoke after Farathorn.

"You say there must be conflict with a character, Lord, and I agree with you. But conflict cannot be preset with each character. It is not a field you can place into a profile. It is something that comes along in each rpg. Do you agree?

"As for sympathy, Orc Lord, I often find that the empathy comes with the conflict more times than not. So in a sense empathy and sympathy come together, do they not?"

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne stared fiercely as the Urukgush stood before the tense crowed. She felt his dark presence, his isolation amongs the Heren Istarion leaders and students. She nearly burst through the bower, but restrained herself. She was torn between wanting to express solidarity and support for her leader, and the shame of showing herself in the embarrassing robes of truce.

"Heren Istarion has called truce with me. They will not harm me if I do not harm them. My presence could protect the Urukgush. They wish to keep me. They would not harm him in my presence. They know the truce would be broken..."

She wresteled within her own mind, the electric heat invading her brain, bringing her senses to razor sharp perception. The sweaty lilac fragrance clung to her skin, permeated her raven hair. Her green eyes flashed in the flower-gloom.

"He can take care of himself." She decided. "His words are lulling them to complancence tempered passion. But should they strike, so shall I."

Arianne moved slightly to her left, freeing herself a bit from the entangling branches, she moved her hand to the small waist slit in her gowns, and wrapped a slender hand around the ebony hilt of her long, silver dagger. She lifted it a bit to make sure it was clear in the scabbard, and then settled back to absorb the Urukgush's lecture.

[Snaga]

Nodding to Farathorn and smiling, he replied: 'Perhaps we shall!' Although you would rue the day, young snake! he thought to himself. But he knew any hint of provocation here would be fatal.

Someone coughed uneasily.

Turning to Anamatar he paused and thought for a short moment. He replied: 'Inner conflict is a part of every being, certainly those whose heads are capable of thought. The conflict may come in many forms: between a long-held ambition and an immediate threat, for example. Or between the fear of failure and the need for recognition. Or a desire for love and the lust for danger. Each of us has a conflict that is never quite resolved. At any moment it may come - especially at a moment of crisis or stress. Whether you know what that inner conflict is at when a character is first conceived, or whether it becomes apparent later is for me not the issue. The point is that a character who is completely at ease with himself is no character at all.

He paused, and mopped his brow. The heat inside the gazeebo crackled.

'As for your other point I do not entirely agree. To wish a character's situation would ease, to think it harsh is to sympathise. This will nearly always come before the reader feels their pain deeply. For instance if a stranger told you their dog had died, you might sympathise. However, were it your neighbour and close friend who's life you felt you had a stake in... his grief would touch you more deeply. But you are right that the reader may well empathise a great deal with the inner turmoil of a character. Such turmoil will manifest itself in many way and may seem most painful to the character: the writer must endeavour to transmit this to his reader.

'Conflict is of course the motive force that propels all stories forward. I will now turn my attention to this subject if there are no more questions.'

[Snaga]

The Urukgush took a few pace, just long enough to ensure there were no more queries, and gathered his thoughts. The intricacy of the beams and rafters caught his eye for a moment, and he likened its geometry to the tidy arrangement of ideas... each coming to a point. He felt the eyes of the students on him...

'Now!' he said loudly, causing a few nearby to straighten abruptly in their seats. 'Now who is responsible for the stories progression in an RP?' The paused and let that question spark thoughts for a moment.

'The RP leader? The person who starts things off? Undoubtedly. But does that mean you can be a passenger, content with idle banter as it proceeds at a pace you cannot control? For many this is what they believe their role to be. A smattering of dialogue. He mounts his horse and follows, looking at the sky. Aye! I read one rp just yesterday in which a character looked at the sky for some unknown reason in three post consecutively. Was rain threatening? Was a flock of flamingos flying? Not at all, but it was more notable than any of the portentous sounding but ultimately vacuous dialogue that accompanied it. 'I will go with you' intones the third fool, and the second fool thinks him but an echo!' A ripple of chuckles cascade through the throng.

'All of us should aspire to more than this! Sit in the saddle, don't lie in haycart being pulled along behind. At least do this: think how your character might progress and change in the story. What are her dreams? What are his fears? Every character is their own sub-plot, and can add much to the tale. If not, the tale can do without them. And that is not the verdict you want. No! Each must contribute and shape and mould the tale, for it is their tale too. Very likely the leader will know more about what is planned, and their role is to light the way, yet not to tell you exactly where your feet must be placed at each time. But in some tales indeed, the story may become very much different from that which was first envisaged. In one RP I was in, an unexpected attack by a wraith-lord made an great difference to the direction of the story and contributed greatly to its development. So my message is this: all of you should seek to take responsibility for the story, and make it your story.

'In a moment I will speak of where ideas might come from, and how to pick good from bad, but first lets consider how a story works.' He paused and surveyed their intent expressions.

'Mostly likely you all consider a story to be composed of a beginning, a middle, and an end. And so it is. But lets us consider it in more detail. I want to introduce you to the 8-point arc, that is useful in considering a story. It runs thus:
(1) Stasis
(2) Trigger
(3) Quest - and these three parts are the beginning.
(4) Surprise
(5) Critical choice
(6) Climax- these are the middle
(7) Reversal
(8) Resolution - these last would be considered the end. But what are all these 8 points?

Lets take the first, Stasis. This is the state of stabilty, the normal state of affairs. So Bilbo's quiet life at Bag End of respectability and pipe-weed. Think of almost any story and this exists, even if the normalcy is unpleasant and undesirable, or may obviously be unstable. But then some event must trigger a chance. For Bilbo 'twas the coming of Gandalf, and the subsequent arrival of 13 dwarves for tea the next day. The Quest: it sounds obvious what that means, no? But think: a quest is often to do something or go somewhere... but it could be to find such things as inner peace, or love... or at least I hear that is what some of you humans and elvish folk value. Each to his own!

Now parts (4) and (5)... these may be repeated many times... surprises are the complications that render the quest difficult. So Bilbo meets the trolls... he needs to hoot like an owl but cannot, so he faces the critical choice to go back and warn them? Or does he attempt to act like a burglar? His choice is 'wrong', foolhardy one might say but it starts to reveal the braver side of Bilbo. This was the first test of courage and he chose to persevere. He makes this choice again and again through many difficulties.

The Climax... well each surprise, each complication will lead to climax. It might arrive rapidly... so for example the climax of the dwarves needing to be rescued from the trolls by Gandalf comes quite soon after Bilbos decision... or it might be quite delayed. So ultimately Bilbos decision to run out of the door of his hobbit hole... the climax of that decision is really the climax for the whole book. And so you can see although I am describing one arc, there are many arcs in a single story... one for each sub-plot in fact.

The final stages are important. The 'Reversal' is a when something important changes as a result of the story. Bilbo is no longer timid, and no longer respectable as a result of his adventures. The dwarves have their mountain realm back. But Thorin dies. It is these changes that make the story into a story, and not just pyrotechnics. Something has happened, the world is not the same (or at least the characters are not). And finally Resolution is when a new 'Stasis' is reached... so Bilbo returns to Bag End, straightens out his affairs and becomes a wealthy but unrespectable hobbit.

This is the story arc, and most stories will conform to it. If you want to make a great story, then these are steps your story needs to contain.'

He paused and took a large gulp of water.

[baragund]

Baragund of Gondor trudges wearily across the field toward the gazebo carrying a heavy rucksack. He wears the uniform of a mid-level officer of infantry, Garrison of Osgiliath but it is heavily weather stained and it is apparent that it has been many days since he has had a bath.

He had heard of the school Heren Istarion, and had taken leave from his commanding officer to hone his skills in warfare, governance and in building. It was a long and difficult journey, he is weary to his very bones but he had to continue. Now as he crosses the fields and approaches the gazebo, he begins to discern the folk exceeding fair to the eye gathered within. He is now rather embarrassed at his appearance but this is abruptly replaced by shock and bewilderment when he sees the creature who portends to be lecturing this fair gathering.

Baragund steps quietly into the edge of the gazebo and approaches a raven-haired woman dressed in white who seems to be somewhat apart from the rest of the gathering. He is about to address her when he is struck speechless for a moment by her haunting beauty. Gazing in her emerald green eyes, he forgets what he was going to say but then collects his thoughts and speaks in a low voice:

"Is this the school of Heren Istarion? What in the name of all that is holy is going on here? Here is a gathering who would be suited for the court of King Elessar being lectured by a... a... an ORC!!! Why hasn't anybody cut the filthy thing down??"

[Wonko The Sane]

Baragund steps quietly into the edge of the gazebo and approaches a raven-haired woman dressed in white who seems to be somewhat apart from the rest of the gathering. He is about to address her when he is struck speechless for a moment by her haunting beauty. Gazing in her emerald green eyes, he forgets what he was going to say but then collects his thoughts and speaks in a low voice:

"Is this the school of Heren Istarion? What in the name of all that is holy is going on here? Here is a gathering who would be suited for the court of King Elessar being lectured by a... a... an ORC!!! Why hasn't anybody cut the filthy thing down??"

Arianne's eyes flashed, flaming with unbridled rage as she heard the threatening words spoken against her Lord Urukgush. With a flick of the wrist she brings her ebony handled dagger to her slender hand. Grasping it firmly she grabs the newcomers robes and holds the point of the dagger to his throat.

She can sense his mingled emotions as she draws him near her. She can smell his fear, but also sense a deep reverence for her fell beauty. She glares at him from beneath long dark lashes. At once beautiful and deadly her intense green eyes staring immutably into his eyes.

"Yes. This is Heren Istarion." She whispered, her breath hot against Baragund's cheek. "And I am its student. But I am first and foremost sworn in alleigance to the Lord Dengen-Goroth of the Dark Legion, Ruler of the Mornclaur Federation. It was he, so recently departed, who began this lecture. He was joined by his loyal servant, and second in command, the Lord Urukgush. To him as well I have sworn alleigance. I come to Heren Istarion under truth. To be learn the ways of a healer. But let me warn you. Though these hands may heal, they are far more skilled at more..." She pauses choosing her words carefully, a cocky gleam in her eyes, a threatening tone in her voice, "shall we say more...gruesome tasks. I could kill you where you stand. Yes, the Urukgush is an orc, but his words are true and his wisdom great. I suggest you listen to what he has to say before dismissing him."

She pulled Baragund closer. "As for me I pray you don't get the wrong impression. I would kill for my lords, but I am under pact of truce during my stay at Heren Istarion. Whatever lord or lady you may serve it means nothing within these walls. But I warn you, one more word against my Lord Urukgush or my Lord Goroth and I'll have your throat. Truce or no truce."

With that she roughly shoved him back, relinquishing her hold on his robes, but she kept her dagger at the ready.

"If you mean to listen to the lecture, and I suggest you do, then get in there, have a seat, and tell no one I am here. If you would rather cause trouble, I'd be more than happy to slay you in the name of the Urukgush."

[Scatha]

A half elf approached the obviously bickering pair and grinned as he overheard the words spoken between the two. Calmly he commented: "It is not that nobody has tried, but we weren't allowed to cut the yrch' throat."

He pointed at Arianne and added: "I'd choose my words wisely at this moment, Gondorian, for she will do as she says, if you are not careful enough."

A wry smile curled around his lips, as he remained looking at the two.

[baragund]

As Arianne holds her dagger to Baragund's throat, his mind is a whirl of confusion. How can this fair elf who could grace the halls of Imladris or even Menegroth swear allegience to such folk? He realizes that his life is in her hands at the moment; her hold is such that there is nothing he could do before she would plunge the dagger through his throat. The quiver in her voice and fire in her eyes tell him that she is sufficiently enraged to do just that at the slightest provocation.

After she shoves him away, he rubs his throat while holding her gaze. In a low, calm voice so as not to disrupt the lecture, he addresses her:

"I do not understand how one of the Eldar such as yourself could possibly pledge allegience with...that." jerking his head toward the lectern. "However, I will honor your wish and the protocols of this place. I will speak ill of your lords no more and I will heed their words. It is always advisable to know one's enemy. Mind you, folk of that kind is the enemy to me. I helped defend Minas Tirith during the siege in The War of The Ring and I saw the severed heads of my countrymen and kin that he and his kind catapulted over the city walls. Perhaps that will help you understand my initial words.

"Still, since we are all here to learn from each other, I look forward to speaking with you at some time under less, ah, adversarial conditions. I am most curious to learn how you chose where to place your loyalties."

He turned and made his way toward the center of the gazebo where he could hear the orc's words more clearly. "Thanks for the warning" he muttered to the half-elf as he shoulders his way through the group. Stopping about halfway to the lectern he begins listening to the Urukgush's words. The sound of the orc's accent makes Baragund grimace but he begins to realize there is much to be learned from this creature. Still, it is hard for him to pay attention. The image of Arianne and the sound of her voice comes into his mind again and again. "Arianne, Arianne, her name is Arianne" he murmurs to himself.

[Nenya Evenstar]

Nenya's attention was jerked abruptly away from the lecturer. Something was not right within the crowd of the Gazebo, and her keen mind was doing whirrling circles trying to discern what exactly had gone wrong enough to disturb her concentration.

Nenya frowned briefly, and turned her head to see a man, Gondorian from his looks, trudging to find a seat. She gave him a welcoming smile, though she wasn't sure that he had seen it, and wondered if he had come to join the school. Growth was always good.

But what had pulled the corner of her mind? Something had gone wrong, if only for an instant. But the entire set up was wrong, and Nenya did not feel quite right about it. Ever since her long captivity she had begun to have an odd respect for the members of the Mornclaur Federation, and now she was sitting calmly listening to a lecture from one. If there was one thought that Nenya could not cope with, it was that. In all her many years living throughout the ages she had been a ruthless enemy to any that followed Morgoth . . . until she had met the Lord Dengen-Goroth. Nenya, turned her head back towards the orc and winced. In all her years she had never had to cope with a problem this big. Often she wondered if she had somehow been touched by Morgoth himself.

She could not bring herself to say anything. Her throat had gone dry.

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne winced at Baragund's words, resisting the urge to press the knife to his throat and end this painful conversation. She grimaced instead, her full, red lips twisting in disgust.

"Imladris" she spat. "Imladris, you say? Yes. I am one who should grace the halls of Imladris indeed." Her eyes seemed to burn with new rage released, the spark of vengence in her eyes. "Yes. You speak the truth. I could have been an elf of Imladris. Could have. But wasn't. Learn the reasons for this, and you'll learn also why I follow the Urukgush and his Lord Dengen-Goroth."

She watches Baragund's face, a maze of perplexed admiration. She rolls her eyes and nods as he speaks. "Yes. You have much to learn from me. I do hope we meet again. But be wary. I have my eye on you." Her green eyes flashed with deadly intent and Baragund turned to join the crowd.

Arianne shook her head, "What fools these mortals be..." she murmured. She sheated her dagger and caught Scatha's eye, his wry smile, and his purposeful stare. She rolled her eyes again.

"Guess the game is up, eh?" She grumbled. "With this commotion he caused it's no doubt the whole lot of you didn't turn to look." Her expression changed as she said this, her eyes pleading, her visage no longer half as grim. "Don't tell anyone I'm here, ok? I can't let the Urukgush see me like this." She bowed her head, her hair falling about her face in a mass of raven waves, concealing the embarrassment so plainly painted on her fair face.

[Snaga]

The Urukgush noted the slight stir at the back of the auditorium. He paused and waited for the newcomer to be seated, amusing himself with the thought that this was not a discussion amongst orcs of a future raid, and so his usually disciplinary methods would not be welcomed. He smiled, and then resumed.

'So if this is the form a plot will take, it is also worthy of note that there are more or less two kinds. One is suspense in which the reader asks the question: 'What comes next?' and a mystery in which the reader asks: 'What has happened?' Every plot must pose a question, and the writer must provide the answer. This is the basis of every story. To create a story in which the question is 'Who murdered the king?' and then, 500 posts later to conclude with 'I guess we'll never know' is unlikely to be satisfying. I say unlikely, because all things are possible. But for it to be possible, for the overt question to remain unanswered then some greater truths must be revealed.

'And this brings me to my next point: Premise' He emphasised this point with raised finger, and looked about the room.

'I detect this concept may be one that few of you are familiar. Alas it is oft overlooked, but let me tell you that for any story-teller, whether writer of fiction, RP poster, or director of plays the premise is the thing that will allow your story to resound with significance.

'It is more important than realism. For realism is but a form. For posters in an RP realism will often be prized highly and understanding the hidden rules of Middle Earth, its lore, its legends, the nature of things within it will bring its own rewards. It will add credibility to your tale. Thus study these things! I believe this school has classes that will help you, and there are other books of lore that would be of use. Read the old tales! Know the rules before you try to break them. Rules may be there to be broken, but not to be trampled ignorantly across like the blunderings of a Mûmak! The more your story is tied into the lore of Middle Earth, the more respect you will garner. But a tale might be set in far-off lands of which we know little. So this is not the secret. No!

'Premise is the key. It is the underlying moral or theme of your story: it is the point you seek to prove. This might be 'Determination helps the under-dog win' or 'Power is more important than wisdom' or anything you like. But you should know what it is that you wish to say, and it should be something that you truly believe in. It must come from your heart. You may not be able to turn the whole tale to this end, for you write but a part, but your sub-plot, the tale of your character at least should rise to make this point. Not in one post, maybe not in 100 posts, but you should keep this conclusion in mind, and always be trying to move towards it.

'For this is the thing that makes all stories worth hearing. And when this premise is present, the reader senses it: you do not ever need to state it. But think: whenever you read a story do you not, somewhere inside you grope to what the inner truth is? Of course you do. For if it is not there, then why are you bothering to listen? Amusement possibly, but a joke will do that better... you will not read many pages ... you will not be really gripped. No. To be gripped the reader needs to both have the obvious question (the mystery or suspense) and the hidden question which is the premise of the tale. And then, they will feel you move inexorably towards that.

'And the premise will guide you too. For such things that are not relevant you may readily remove or recast, and moreover you will always know if the general direction of things is to your liking. In the best RPs the leader will communicate something of this premise to you: for example in Fall of the Faithful this is so, and also in Redemption. And another great example: Forbidden. Possibly they will do so, without realise that is what they are doing. But in those RP the sense of direction is palpable, and those involved are united in an inner understanding of where the tale is headed. Not in the specifics, but in general. Thus the freedom to create, to steer the story, to add complications and twists is given to each RPer, but with the understanding it does not destroy the very purpose of the tale.

The Urukgush continued, his tone becoming more insistent. 'Therefore, when you have this premise, this purpose of your tale, and it is something that you can believe in, it will release you from the burdens of self-doubt and timidity. It will allow you to write with enthusiasm, passion and verve. It will let your metaphors sparkle, and your similes dance. For it is what you have within that you need to access: your feelings, your love and hate, anger and contentment, joy and despair. You need to find these things and show some of it in every post, unrestrained and unclouded by doubt of your direction. Do not tiptoe through your tale, hoping to go unnoticed. Be bold, be dramatic! Make people sit up and notice you, and all you have to say.

'I have spoken of the Fictive Dream. Of how to get your readers to dream the dream, and feel themselves inside your world, inside the mind of your character and hoping desperately for her success, and feeling their inner turmoil. I have spoken of the 8-point story arc, that will help you construct a story that is complete. I have spoken of mystery and suspense, and also of the need for a premise, so that your stories have a purpose and direction. But it is my final point that I feel most strongly about. You must write with feeling: breathe fire with your words!'

And with that final flourish, the Urukgush bowed his head and sat down.

[Scatha]

Farathorn kept his eyes locked on Arianne, his eyes clear but void of anything regarding emotion. He stepped the few remaining paces towards her and took hold of her shoulder.

"Just as long as you will honor the treaty, you'll have no trouble from me. Perhaps some day we will meet under different circumstances, but until that day comes I will keep your secret, just as I have sworn."

His eyes sparkled for an instant, then he released her shoulder. His gaze became more tranquil and his voice even carried some warmth. "I made a vow to teach at this academy, regardless of who will need the lessons, so teach is what i'll do."

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne thanked Farathorn silently, her green eyes showing all the gratitude she could express. She turned and slunk back into the recesses of the lilac branches and listened to the end of the Urukgush's speech, a million worried thoughts tumbling in her head.

[Nenya Evenstar]

Once more, the Grand Gazebo was filled with applause. Tremendous in its strength, the sound practically shook the walls. Nenya was one of the people on her feet, giving the Urukgush a standing ovation. The members of Heren Istarion were all united together in appreciation for the orc, and Nenya tried desperately to keep that idea in the back of her head. She simply stood up and applauded without thought, for thought concerning that subject made her feel extremely ill.

[Wonko The Sane]

Arianne watched proudly from beneath the veil of lilac branches as the crowd uproariously applauded the Urukgush. She was instilled with a strong sense of loyalty and great pride for her leader, and beamed at the orc from within her hididng place.

[baragund]

Baragund listened to the end of the orc's lecture with growing wonder. It's articulate and eloquent speech was far beyond anything he had ever heard before from such a creature. (Whatever orc speech he had heard previously was little more than obcenities.) Clearly this was someone who could teach much.

The lecture ended and the crowd broke into enthusiastic applause, some leaping to their feet. Baragund remained seated looking around uncomfortably at the others, his entire life's upbringing forbidding him to give any accolades to the orc. The applause subsided and the crowd began to congregate in small groups, chatting amiably with each other. He rose to his feet, now feeling stiff and sore from his long journey and studied the group. All races of Middle Earth were present, intermingled with each other, no trace of any of the old feuds or conflicts that overhang the rest of the world.

As he was looking around, he saw the hauntingly beautiful elf who had nearly slit his throat standing alone under some nearby trees and he quickly looked away, blushing. "You put your foot in it once already and that's enough for one day!", he thought to himself. Then he saw the half-elf who had cautioned him speaking with another elven maiden. He shouldered his rucksack and approached them:

"Ah...hello. My name is Baragund of Osgiliath and as you can see, I have just arrived at this academy. I was detained in my journey and I apologize for my tardiness. I bypassed the other facilities and came right to this gazebo so as not to miss all of the lecture. Can you direct me to the campus lodgings so I may bath, put on some clean clothes and obtain a meal?

[Anamatar IV]

Anamatar quickly rushed to the podium as people seemed to be leaving.

"Thank you, Lord Urukgush, for your wise words!" he said backed by a round of applause. "But for the christening of this Grand Gazebo, and so now it can be rightly called, a final speaker I have for you today." All looked questionably at Anamatar, even Ingolemo, the Head-Master of the school. "Yes, a third speaker for us today have I! To see you off with a lecture filled with wisdom, please welcome the Bloodflower of whom the prophecies speak, Lord of the Court of Umbar, Agarloth Serewing!" The crowd hushed in gasps with scattered applause. Ingolemo grinned approvingly as Anamatar sat back down next to him.

[baragund]

"Ahhh, Bath and supper will have to wait a bit longer", Baragund observes as he finds an empty seat next to the two elves.

[Nenya Evenstar]

Nenya nodded encouragingly to the man who had taken a seat near her and Farathorn. Leaning over Farathorn, she whispered, "Hail, Baragund of Osgiliath! I will direct you to some comfortable lodgings following the lecture." The man nodded and looked grateful.

Nenya sent him a quick smile and then nestled back into her own seat, feeling a little more secure next to Farathorn than she had in the past two lectures. Her mind was becoming more and more on edge, though she tried hide it well, but she could not face the struggle in her brain. A slight frown of concern lit her face.