An (in-character) Introduction "No, no, no, it just ain't right!" A crumpled ball of paper dropped towards the floor beneath the small oak writing desk. It landed softly, (as paper balls are wont to do), and came to rest atop a small mountain of crumpled balls of paper out of which protruded a pair of legs. The legs were connected; below, to a pair of hairy feet and above, to a sturdy hobbit torso. The torso belonged to a rather frustrated hobbit called Tambard Brindletoe and at this moment in time, Tambard Brindletoe was chiefly frustrated with himself. "Brindletoe, you great pig's bum!" he burst out again, "It just ain't good enough! This guff'll never impress 'em!" He sighed heavily and drew yet another sheet of writing paper towards him with ink stained hands. It had all begun two evenings ago round the back of The Floating Log in Frogmorton where bonder Brindletoe had a habit of finishing his beat. He had been chatting with Will Puddlefoot, one of the inn's barrelmen, while they sampled the new stock. The talk had turned naturally to local gossip and Will had laid down his mug, leant forward and whispered conspiritorily, "ere Tam, you ever 'eard tell 'bout 'The Lost Mathom'?" Tambard had replied that no, he had never heard of any such thing, and whatever did he mean by it? Will had chuckled, satisfied he had his hobbit fish on the line and revealed, by way of a lengthy and convoluted tale, that he had heard from Peggy Applebottom, ('who'd gone gotten herself appointed maid to the Thaine up in Tookland's second cousin's wife's sister, and very nice too') that there was rumoured to exist a secret society, 'as you might say,' who, as far as he knew, concerned themselves with something called 'The Lost Mathom,' and at this point Will had adopted an eerie, dramatic tone to his voice, waggling his bushy eyebrows to emphasise his point. Bounder Brindletoe had left the Floating Log that night with a head full of imagined adventures and perplexing questions. The next day he'd reported for duty as usual and took the opportunity to ask his shiriff if he had ever heard of this secret society. His superior, a venerable hobbit famous for his store of knowledge had solemnly shook his head but with a queer look in his eye. This morning Tambard had visited the Mathom House in Michael Delving and enquired about the order. He had expected to be laughed at as another hobbit fooled into believing old Will Puddlefoot's conspiracy theories, but a tight-lipped silence and glowering look had been enough to convince him Will was onto something and he for one wanted to know more. He had decided to write a letter to this Grand Order of the Lost Mathom, introducing himself and perhaps humbly asking to join them. And so it was, on a particularly hot summer afternoon, Tambard Brindletoe found himself in his small study, ankle-deep in crumpled balls of paper, sweating over yet another draft of his letter of application. As the sun began to dip behind the hill and night prepared to spread its inky coverlet over the shire, Tambard laid down his quill in its pot, and breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up, spilling a few rogue paper balls that had been lurking in his lap, crossed to the window and with the last light of the day, read his petition: "To whomsoever it might concern, The Grand Order of the Lost Mathom, Dear Sir or Ma'am First may I say, I hope you do not find it impertinent my writing to you, all unsolicited like, but I felt I really must. My name is Tambard Brindletoe, I am a bounder of the shire and take much pride in my duty and service I do folks hereabout. Now to the point, as they say. I have heard tell of your order and, having a great love of mathoms (and a fair personal collection myself I may say), I would be most interested in learning more about the work you do and offering my services if I may make so bold as to do. I reckon I'm known as an honest type and I believe I may recieve a favourable report from my Shiriff, if such a thing as a letter of recommendation be needed. I am a hard worker and, without wanting to be blowing my own horn, so to speak, I think I might prove a handy sort to have about the place, if you take my meaning. I await a reply at your soonest convenience. Yours in all faith, Tambard Brindletoe, Bounder. Tambard nodded with satisfaction, folded the letter into an envelope, sealed it with wax and took up his quill to write the address. The quill hovered over the envelope and a drop of ink splotted onto its creamy surface. A thought had finally occurred to Tambard: If this society was a secret society, talked about only in whispers and denied by all officials, then where precisely was he supposed to send the letter?  RP Experience I've been roleplaying all my life I suppose (so very nearly 30 years!), from the make-believe games of childhood to the pen and paper of the D&D generation, through tabletop wargaming and single player RPG's and now to the crazy and wonderful world of MMO's.  LOTRO Experience I started playing LOTRO about two months ago after the dreaded WoW stopped working on my PC and haven't looked back since.  Character Tambard Brindletoe is a hobbit, warden, level 25, Explorer. He's my main character, though I do play others. Alts include Uthraine - a dwarven guardian in The Mithril Guard, Beornengad- a man Loremaster, and recently Gwillem- an actor who I rolled last night because someone's been crazy enough to start a theatre company on Laurelin!