I have to admit, I’m really not all that big on RP. It’s not that I don’t like it and really do appreciate that other people do it, it’s just that I personally find it difficult. I suppose that is also why I have never desired to be an actor.

I do find it rather easy to engage in RP-like activities like using basic emotes and making immersive comments in /say, but I just can’t get into elaborate chat melodramas. I like to read them sometimes, but I always get a queer feeling when I attempt to participate.

Oh well, to each their own. I am definitely into immersion, however, so I do enjoy the company of other players who could be considered RP-heavy even if I don’t fully participate. And in the RP spirit I often like to come up with  good back-stories for my characters.

I’m working out three right now for the characters I am currently playing on Landroval: Fortuente, Skarloey and Celebrolas. In this post I am going to go into the back story for Fortuente, the badass viking dude.

Fortuente is a Man Champion from the outlying farms near Esgaroth in the Dale-lands. He always dreamed of striking it rich like the wealthy traders in Esgaroth and Dale. However, as a lowly farmhand he didn’t have much a future ahead of him.

Things have been getting a little crazy lately. Goblin raids have become more frequent, strange shapes are seen flitting about the countryside … even the Elven traders from Mirkwood, normally stoic even in the midst of revelry, whisper nervously of dark forces.

It wasn’t whispers of dark forces that concerned Fortuente, however. It was the whispers of the new font of trading riches - pipeweed. Fortuente learned of a recruiter for a rich southern man named “Sharkey” who was looking to set up a trading network to a strange land called “the Shire.”

Though they seemed a rather unsavory lot, Fortuente joined and set out for the southern land of Isengard with them. The journey was uneventful, and more recruits were picked up along the way into Rohan.

When the now rather large band of men reached the tower of Isengard he began to have serious doubts about his desire to be involve with Sharkey. There was a strange hush over the town and many buildings were deserted. The local people lived in a seemingly stupified awe of the shadow of the looming tower above.

He was given training assignments where he was taught the basics of armed combat - something he as a hardy Northman was no stranger to. But he began seeing fell beasts walking the lands openly in the daylight and there were strange rumblings and noxious emissions coming from cracks in the very ground around the tower. Something seemed terribly amiss with the land itself.

Alas, rugged Fortuente was also a fool. It was not until more than a full month had passed until he finally had the grim realization he was being trained as a foot soldier in an army to conquer this strange land of the halflings, not to build a trading route as he had thought.

Escape from Isengard seemed hopeless, so he kept his feelings to himself and waited until surely he would be given orders and leave the city and the watchful gaze of the tower rising over it.

That is exactly what happened. He and several other of Sharkey’s men were sent to infiltrate the Shire through the time-haunted land of Evendim and organize the local bandits into effective fighting forces.

He had heard of Evendim spoken by a sage who had cheated death there in his youth, or so he said. It was the same sage who had entertained him as boy with tales of the mysterious Dunedain, the rangers of Eriador.

He decided that he would travel with the rest of the men until just before their destination - the strangely-named settlement “Oatbarton” - then desert the group and seek out these Rangers, either to join them or die in the attempt.

However fate had other plans for him. Sharkey’s band of ruffians was waylaid on the Great East Road by a force of goblins. While the goblins didn’t prove to be much a match for the well-armed and trained bandits, Fortuente was able to easily slip away in the chaos of battle.

The road ahead was perilous and fraught with danger, but fortune smiled upon him when Fortuente met a man named Simon Pruner at the Forsaken Inn. A trader on his way back from Nain Enidh, Simon had just lost his bodyguard to an orc’s arrow. He had an extra horse and was in need of a strong and honest sword arm - Fortuente immediately sprung at the chance and they set off in haste, Simon wanting to safely bank his bulging coin-purse and Fortuente wanting to stay as far ahead of his deserted gang as possible.

On their way to Simon’s home Archet, they were met by a pair of halflings …

And the rest is in the game. I suppose I’ll write more about it later. Maybe flesh it out a bit. Any suggestions?

Hi, I’m Fortuente. As in for-twun-tee. A bit about me:

I mainly play on the Landroval server where I have several characters, none of which have reached level 50. This is an interesting fact considering my highest level (currently) 39 was created on launch day. I am - what would a good phrase be? I do gray quests - I’ll put it like that. Tragically casual.

I also am a connoisseur of Old Toby, which goes quite well in a chilled bong (like you couldn’t have figured that out from my assumed name). I have been an off-again-on-again admirer of Tolkein’s writings since I was knee-high to the suckling teet (did that even make sense?). I like the BBC Radio dramatization of LOTR the best because I <3 the actors’ awesome thespian voices.

My favorite neglected character (only appears in original book version) is Tom Bombadil. Having him and in-game smoking were the two biggest factors in the inculcation of the soft warm glow of LOTRO fanboism upon my impressionable old mind. Turbine commands, and verily, I doth obey.

This is my first post which I have gone back and edited. I hope you like it, because if you don’t I might be inclined to emote you to death in game. /me stabs your chest with his finger. HUZZAH!