CS - The Lord of the Rings: the Northern Defense

[Red Thunder]

IC • OCC • CS

FOR CHARACTER SHEETS ONLY​

Interactive map of Middle Earth for reference​

Middle Earth stands on the brink of war. The Lord Sauron, an ancient spirit of evil and ruler of the land of Mordor in the southeast, has arisen again after a major defeat from an Age past to threaten the kingdoms of the world again. Gondor, the strongest kingdom of Men in the south, currently vies with Sauron for control over the territory of Ithilien between their kingdoms, and has thus far halted his forward advance. There are some, however, that fear he has yet to show his true military strength, and the wizened Rangers that patrol Ithilien whisper of the Dark Lord's most terrible servants of all: the Nazgul.

But Sauron has allies that are as yet unknown by those who oppose him, and where he does not himself directly spur conflict through his orc hordes, he leaves the Easterlings to do that. Tribes of men from the East who have long been under the Dark Lord's sway, the Easterlings attack the kingdoms in the northeast, weakening them before he can make his final move against them. Erebor, the Dwarven kingdom under the Lonely Mountain, and the Mannish cities of Dale to the Lonely Mountain's south and Lake Town on the north side of the Long Lake are in particular harried by the Easterlings, and reports are beginning to filter in from the Sea of Rhun of the destruction of Dorwinion. Orcs from the Misty Mountains, more commonly called goblins, make feints against the Elven kingdom of Lothlorien, gauging its strength, and the evil that lives in Mirkwood has once more began to give trouble to the Woodland Realm of Elves within its wooded walls.

In other parts of the world, Frodo has been warned by the wizard Gandalf of the danger his Ring presents, but true to his Hobbit nature, Frodo is being slow to take action. It's now late summer, and the pieces of the board game have been set. It only takes a first move...

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Kingdoms and Starting Locations for Characters:

- The Woodland Realm: The Elves of the Woodland Realm, unlike many Elves, were known to be less wise and more dangerous, but were nevertheless one of the most powerful and legendary of the Elves of Middle-earth. Legolas is the Prince. In years past, a mysterious being known as the Necromancer (later revealed to be Sauron) began living in an abandoned fortress in the southern forest called Dol Guldur. Afterwards, the forest became dark and tainted, infested with orcs, giant spiders, and other mysterious and savage beings. The elves were then forced to remove themselves to the northernmost part of the forest. All settlements in the Mountains of Mirkwood were withdrawn and the capital and realm's people relocated to a cave settlement under a wooded hill, in the northeastern border of the forest. From then on, the Woodland Realm remained confined to the north. It was at this time that the elves renamed the forest to Mirkwood along other with other places they formerly occupied. The Woodland Realm under their king Thranduil has a vaguely uneasy peace with the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain; they are economically friendly, but rarely will any elf or dwarf enjoy each other's company for the sheer pleasure of it. Despite their alliance in the Battle of Five Armies, there is still too much bad blood between the races.
The Elves do enjoy their wine, however, and so have a hardy friendship with the Men of Dale and Lake Town, as well as the Vineyards of Dorwinion on the shores of the Sea of Rhun.
Populated by: Sylvan Elves

- Erebor, the Kingdom under the Lonely Mountain: Once a place of great renown, power, and above all, wealth, Erebor is now a shadow of the kingdom it was. In both population and economy, it is still recovering from the decimation the dragon Smaug wrought upon it. Situated to the north of the Long Lake, Erebor is ruled by King Dain II Ironfoot and enjoys a fast friendship with the Men of Dale and Lake Town. Their friendship with the Woodland Realm is perhaps less strong, in no small part due to the claims the Elves made on the dragon's treasure after his death, but both kingdoms enjoy an uneasy peace.
But the hearts of the Dwarves are uneasy; twice now a rider clad in black has visited their king from the south, offering friendship and alliance with the land of Mordor. Dain has yet to answer, but many whisper that he may give in out of fear for the safety of his people.
Populated by: Dwarves

- Dale and Lake Town: Dale was once a great kingdom of Men, situated between two southern arms of the Lonely Mountain, but with its destruction by the dragon Smaug, it was abandoned. The survivors built Lake Town on the north end of the Long Lake, where the River Running met the water as it came down from the Lonely Mountain. After the death of the dragon, Dale was rebuilt, with Lake Town acting as a kind of port for Dale's goods. A place of mingling of races of all kinds, it acts as a sort of economic hub. Dale is a peaceful city ruled by the grim but wise king Brand.
Populated by: Men

- Lothlorien: Lothlorien is both a forest and elven realm located next to the lower Misty Mountains, ruled by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. The Golden Wood is relatively close to Mirkwood and Dol Guldur, not to mention the orc-infested former Dwarven kingdom of Moria under the Misty Mountains, and as such has to push back the occasional attack from them. They are however a strong and proud kingdom, and no attack has yet concerned its rulers. Situated just to the west of the Anduin River, Lothlorien is a fairly reclusive kingdom, choosing instead to maintain a closer friendship with Rivendell across the Misty Mountains than with its neighbors in the north.
Populated by: Sylvan Elves with a more High Elf mindset than their northern cousins, with a smattering of High Elves in the ruling class
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Races:

Elves: Elves are immortal: they do not age past maturity, they do not get sick, and they recover from wounds quickly. But this comes at a price: Elves are prone to depression and hedonism, seeking to escape the dull unending years of their lives in any way they can. As such, they often become disconnected from the world and friends of other races, seeing them in much the same way a Man might see his pet dog. Tall and lithe, with a strong affinity to things of nature, Elves are swift of foot and graceful of movement, though they are not as strong as others.
- Sylven Elves: Sylven elves are a suspicious lot. Prone more to martial pursuits rather than academic ones, the Sylnan elves meet anything unknown or strange with a blade rather than a hand, and as such tend to push away potential allies simply for being different.
- High Elves: High elves are a more patient group, seeking understanding and knowledge above all else. Consequently, they tend to be wise in most all things, as well as more open to a stranger. But this leaves little room for martial pursuits, and not many High Elves bother learning to fight beyond the most fundamental actions.

Dwarves: Dwarves are a short, stocky race, not often growing taller than five feet tall. With large attributes such as ears, noses, and hands, other races usually find them ugly. But there is no stronger race, and no race better at the forging of armor. If Elves are like a blade, fast, smooth, and precise, Dwarves are like a mountain. They are immovable in conviction, fast in friendship and enmity, and strong-willed. They do suffer however from a love of gold and riches, and it can sometimes blind them to things that otherwise are important to them. While not as immortal, Dwarves live massively long lives, sometimes up to 200-300 years. Their constitution is unrivaled, with very few wounds able to successfully stop a Dwarf from pressing on, and they don't get sick. Dwarves are almost always some form of craftsman or warrior, and therefore must rely heavily on trade for food, clothing, and things of similar nature.

Men: The race of Men is in comparison to the others frail: they live very short lives (reaching 100 years is an unheard of feat), they are prone to disease, and they are easily injured and killed. Yet, Men are infinitely creative and varied in their pursuits and skills. Though not as strong as the Dwarves, though more graceful, nor as graceful Elves, though stronger, they create an excellent balance and as such make effective warriors. There is, too, something to be said for their short lives: Men are focused in a way that neither Dwarf nor Elf fully understand, and as such can accomplish more in their small time alive than the other races might achieve over several centuries.
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One last bit of house cleaning: rules.

- Play your character true to who they are in the IC, but in any instance, be polite and courteous in OOC. Jokes and teasing happens, and that's fine. Just make sure all involved know it's joking and teasing, and stop as soon as someone isn't playing anymore. On the flip side of that, remember: this is a game, and people's silly side can come out. Don't take things personally.
- There's no concrete posting order, nor concrete posting speed requirement. Use courtesy and common sense. If you're hogging up the thread with a conversation, collab it. That's what collabs are for. And don't make others wait in limbo, wondering if you're going to post. Real life happens, and that's fine; it always takes precedence. But try to let us know if you can't post for a while so we can get the ball rolling.
- This is a detailed RP, so we do expect quality posts and posts of decent length. Don't drop a paragraph and call it good; if you can't come up with at least two paragraphs, collab or wait until there's more to write about.
- I'll never straight up kill your character without your permission. But they will at some points be going into dangerous situations. Don't be crazy with them, or... things ...just might happen.
-Have fun. Middle Earth is an awesome place to write about, and I look forward to exploring it with y'all.

Alrighty, that's all outta the way! Start a-posting your CSs below and drop any questions/discussion you have into the PM. And here's the skeleton. Edit as desired; just have at least as much info as requested, and make sure it's the Tabs format, as it's the only format consistently readable across all viewing platforms.

I'll leave a "Nice Execution" rating on accepted CSs.​

[Hdor]Character Name[/hdor]
[Tabs]
[tab=Character Name/Title]
Name: Race:
Age: (needs to be at least 21)
Height:
Weight:
Appearance: (description and photo-realistic drawing or faceclaim. NO ANIME)
Personality:
Character Strengths:
Character Weaknesses:
Biography:
[/tab]
[Tab=Gear and Skills]
Weapon of choice: (description and/or image)
Clothing/Armor: (description and/or image)
Skills:
[/tab]
[Tab=Other] (use as necessary for pertinent info you think important: employment, goals, notable connections or relationships, etc. Use this for anything not otherwise covered) [/tab] [/tabs]

 

[Red Thunder]

Fyréga Grimblade

the Shieldmaiden Gear and Skills Other

• 
  Name: Fyréga Grimblade
  Race: Rohirric Human
  Age: 35
  Height: 5'6"
  Weight: 135 lbs
  Appearance:
  
  
  Fyréga is a perfect example of a Rohirric woman: trim but not skinny, her hands are calloused from long years of sword play, both in practice and in combat, her brown eyes are sharp and keen, and her skin is touched with a ruddy complexion. She will most often wear the court dress, being raised as she was as a lesser noble, but whether in flowing skirts and blouses or in the leather armor of her people, Fyréga stands straight as her blade, familial pride fully evident in the sharp features of her face.
  Personality: Life in Middle Earth can be harsh and taxing, and not many things encourage a cheerful attitude. Nevertheless, Fyréga has managed it. Admittedly, it has often come at the expense of politeness: she can be harsh in her humor, unkind in her jokes, and blunt in her speech. Yet she is steadfast in friendship and loyal to the absolute end, her passion seemingly fueled by a fire that can be seen in the light of her eyes.
  Biography: Fyréga hails from Rohan, where her father manages a rather outstanding herd of fine Rohirric horses. Over the course of time, through training and experience, the woman has been given the important duty of being her family's representative to other kingdoms. There she makes deals, exchanging horses (highly sought after) for goods the Horse Lords otherwise would be unable to obtain. Dale is perhaps a far bit farther than she'd normally travel, but word has come that King Brand wishes to form a cavalry of his own in the defense of his and his allies. Fyréga has therefore gone willingly, seeking to bring advice and council. And perhaps word of the doings in the South...
  
• 
  Weapon of choice: Faestoth, or "Fast Tooth", as shown in her grip in the picture above
  Clothing/Armor: Fyréga is most comfortable in her court attire: a skirt of forest green, an outer garment of earthen red, and flowing white sleeves. When she must needs take up arms, she prefers to wear a light chain mail covered in a leather jerkin. She carries no shield, preferring versatility and mobility over defense.
  Skills:
  - Excellent horsewoman
  - Competant swordswoman
  - Impeccable courtly manners and etiquette
  
• 
  Blaecwine
  
  
  
  Though not a Mearas himself, he may be descended from them. Blaecwine stands a half foot taller than most of his kin, and is besides a sight to behold. His black coat seems to have a perpetual sheen to it, the dusting of white on his rump interrupting what would otherwise be a beautiful flow of jet black coloring.
  Blaecwine is full of spit and vinegar. He doesn't suffer the close presence of unfamiliar males about him and will usually merely trot away in irritation. But Fyréga can usually get him to cooperate and play along.
  

Celegóst Randír

the Elf out of Time Gear and Skills

• 
  Name: Celegóst Randír, son of Ecthelion of the Fountain and Riánon the Dauntless
  Race: High Elf
  Age: 6475, born F.A. 457
  Height: 6'2"
  Weight: 205 lbs
  Appearance:
  
  
  Celegóst is strong of arm and long of leg, and his long stride carries him quickly. His face is clean shaven, like most of his kind. The golden locks of his hair hang to his shoulders, and his eyes are as green as Fangorn's leaves.
  Personality: Celegóst has seen much in his life, and so tends toward a dour, serious mood. He enjoys the company of others of unlike him, however, finding that their presence distracts from his memories, and he will sometimes seek such companions out, regardless of race, gender, or creed.
  To such as call him friend, Celegóst is fiercely loyal. He will leap headfirst into battle with no regard for personal safety if he believes it necessary, and can oftentimes allow his recklessness to outweigh good council and advice. He is a warrior to his bones, and while he may not be as socially savvy as others of his race, his battle prowess is generally known and his presence therefore generally tolerated.
  Biography: Celegóst's life is shrouded in much mystery, even to those who might claim to know him best. Much of what he has seen he simply refuses to speak of, and when he is inclined to talk at all, it usually concerns the poor state of the world. He roams from elven kingdom to elven kingdom, as if seeking escape from he memories of his past. The lords of these places consequently request that he bear news as he travels. It always reaches its destination, but thanks in great part to his aimlessness of heart, it often arrives later than it might have. This has yet to have any drastic consequence, but with the whispers of changes in the world, it may well prove ill.
  
• 
  Weapon of choice:
  
  
  
  Celegóst wields a hand and a half sword, Andúnë. It was taken from his father when he died and kept for Celegóst until he was old enough to wield it. Any light that reflects off its blade shines back a deep orange in color, as if it were light from the setting sun.
  Clothing/Armor: He wears the armor of Lindon, a country near the sea, its previous splendor faded and deteriorated with the passage of time. The gold has faded to a dirty bronze and the silver to a weary gray. He wears no helmet and bears no shield but keeps himself covered in an old tattered brown cloak.
  Skills:
  - Unmatched swordsman
  - Competant tracker
  - Novice healer
  

 

[mr_pibbs]

Maerath Randwulf

Maerath Randwulf, Squire of Dale Gear and Skills Other

• 
  
  
  
  Name:
  
  Maerath (Pronounced: Mare-Ath) Randwulf.
  
  Race:
  
  Human
  
  Age:
  
  21
  
  Height:
  
  5'7"
  
  Weight:
  
  130lbs
  
  Personality:
  
  Maerath is a bright, cunning and well-brought up individual. He tends to shy away from people most of the time, preferring instead to be by himself. However, that doesn't mean he dislikes the company of others. He just prefers to be alone.
  
  He is a rather polite young man, having been brought up to respect those around him. However, if you were to get on his bad side, Maerath can be quite the aggressor. When angered, he is absolutely ruthless and determined to get whatever it is he desires out of that specific circumstance.
  
  In certain situations, Marensius can be rather cold and calculating. Although he's only been a squire for less than a year, Maerath's teacher has refined him into a well-toned soldier. But whenever Maerath begins to act coldly, it's mostly a facade. In reality, Maerath is probably one of the sweetest men in all of Middle Earth.
  
  He puts a lot of focus on people he cares about and does anything he can to make them feel more appreciated, even if it's a small gesture of kindness. Maerath usually puts on a brave face when confronted with an issue, but he's usually a very emotive young man. He does whatever he can to remain positive in a situation, even if it means lying to himself or his companions about the outcome just to make them feel better. But no matter what; he always tries to bring out the best in himself and in others, but unfortunately, the world he lives in doesn't really value those who are kind and virtuous.
  
  At heart, he is a true gentleman. Maerath does his best to be pleasant to others (even if he believes they do not deserve his kindness) and more often then naught bears a smile upon his face. He is especially kind to women, who he believes should be treated with respect and dignity (after all; men cannot produce children, nor hope to win the hearts of their wives if they act like brutes) and oftentimes will go out of his way to ensure any woman he is with (either courting or not) knows that he will respect her boundaries and limits.
  
  Maerath is also quite witty and wields subtext as if it were a blade, piercing those who do not suspect him to assault them with secretive innuendos or insults (depending on who he speaks to). Often times his mouth can get him into trouble, but usually he can get right back out thanks to his wordplay.
  
  Character Strengths:
  
  • Strong Willed/Doesn't Give Up Easily
  
  • Genuinely Cares for his Companions/Allies (has a distinctive 'No Man Left Behind' rule)
  
  • Courageous/Willing to Risk His Life for Others
  
  • Trustworthy
  
  • Highly Adaptable
  
  • Trained in the ways of Knighthood (understands many combat skills and military techniques)
  
  • Well Read/Knowledgeable (Street-Smart and Book-Smart)
  
  Character Weaknesses:
  
  • Sometimes his 'courage/bravery' can also be defined as 'stupidity' (acts using his emotions) and he often runs into situations without thinking, putting both himself and others in danger.
  
  • Still fairly inexperienced as a Knight/Squire (he still has much to learn) and often makes mistakes with his judgement of situations
  
  • His dry/quick-witted comments can often be interpreted as Maerath 'running his mouth' and can land him in trouble.
  
  • Although he's fairly good at reading people, he has placed too much trust in those who do not deserve it in the past. As a result, Maerath doesn't let many people in unless he believes he can truly trust them (so he occasionally acts like a jerk/remains emotionally detached from them)
  
  • Due to his 'moral code', Maerath is a little stubborn and won't easily give up on what he thinks is right (even if he's completely in the wrong). He'll fight and argue that he was correct and depending on the severity of the situation, may even resort to violence.
  
  • Often keeps to himself and doesn't really feel the need to divulge information he deems 'unnecessary' to his peers/those close to him. This makes him seem like a bit of a recluse/usually can put doubts in his companions minds.
  
  Biography:
  
  Born as the third son of Althaus (Alt-Haus) Randwulf, a blacksmith living in the city of Dale, and his wife Cathalia (Cath-Ali-Ah), Maerath wasn't really given much thought as a child. That isn't to say his parents or his siblings didn't care about him, it was just that as the youngest child, he wasn't really expected to do much with his life. But that didn't stop his mother and father from wishing the best for their son. Maerath's older brother, Emanudir (E-Man-U-Dir), grew up to become a barge captain and moved to Lake Town, where he and his family worked to ship supplies back and forth between Dale and the other kingdoms who had allied themselves with both the mannish city, the Kingdom of Erebor, and the King Under the Mountain. He was fairly well to do, bringing in massive hauls of fish and imported goods (spices, meats, harvested fruits/vegetables, etc).
  
  His older sister, Fwain (Feign) had originally wanted to ride to Rogan in order to become a Shield Maiden, but chose to stay behind in Dale after their father fell gravely ill during the previous winter. In the time of his recovery, she became acquainted with a young farmer named Barathus Dothomar. They've only known one another for a few months, but Maerath can already predict that sooner then later, they'll be wed and he'll have another older brother. As of this day, his sister is currently employed at a small tavern, where she earns a modest pay that helps support their father's costly medicines.
  
  Growing up as the third child was simple enough for Maerath. He never had a problem with his brother or sister and the three of them got along fairly well, understanding that when their parents had long since left this world, they would be the only family any of them had. But even without that understanding, Maerath and his siblings were rather well behaved and enjoyed each other's company quite a bit. Their parents made sure that each of their children was given the proper care and attention they all deserved and because of their father's smithery, they had a rather luxurious childhood. They were by no means wealthy in any sense of the word, but Althaus made enough to provide for his family, and then some.
  
  However, when Maerath was 17, his father fell gravely ill with a serious case of dysentery believed to be brought on by a bad stock of fish acquired by the Lake Town fishers. Upon further analysis of the fish, it was discovered that they had become tainted by some unknown means (be it dark magic or poison), presumably in an attempt to cause a panic amongst the people of Dale/Erebor or as part of an elaborate attempt to assassinate King Dain II Ironfoot. Luckily the source of the outbreak was detected early and very few citizens of both Dale and Erebor were infected, but unfortunately for the Randwulfs, Althaus was deeply affected. Complications within his intestinal track caused serious infections and as a result, his body began to weaken rapidly. All of the muscle and tissue he had built up from years prior withered away as if they were dust being scattered in the wind. Almost a month later when his fever finally came down and he was allowed to leave his bed, Althaus was dramatically weakened and could no longer afford to run his smith without hiring additional workers.
  
  For a year, Maerath assisted his father around the smithy, providing aid whenever it was required, but he also began to take a keen interest in the life of a Knight, especially those who defended the realm of Gondor. While aiding his father one day, Maerath found himself face to face with the Lord of Dale, King Brand, who had come down from his keep on business relating to the outbreak of dysentery. While in Dale, Maerath requested that he join the King's service for a time, promising to pledge himself in service of the King until such time as he was ready to become a Knight.
  
  King Brand was not a fool, however. He knew that the young man's heart rested further South along the border of Mordor, but he respected his tenacity and willingness to remain in Dale for his training, however long it might be. The King accepted his pledge of servitude on the grounds that after two years, Maerath would be tested to determine if he had what it took to become a Knight. King Brand appointed Maerath as the Squire of Sir Calomira, an older man who had been only a child when the city of Dale was reclaimed by the Men of Lake Town with aid from the Dwarven Company and the Elves of Mirkwood during the Battle of the Five Armies and the Death of Smaug the Terrible.
  
  Taking the young man under his wing as he saw much of himself within the lad, Sir Calomira did his best to teach Maerath everything he knew and much to his satisfaction, Maerath was a fast learner. During his time as a Squire, Maerath's family was fully supportive of him, especially his father, who saw extraordinary promise in the path Maerath had chosen for his life. Maerath also developed a strong bond with his mentor over the following year, learning to view Sir Calomira as more of a friend and mentor then just as an instructor.
  
  But with winter on the horizon, his time as a Squire is drawing to a close. Sir Calomira believes that Maerath is more then ready to undergo the trials King Brand will place before him and on occasion has even spoken about moving the date forwards so Maerath can be Knighted sooner. However, Maerath believes there is still much that he could learn from Sir Calomira... But perhaps that's just his nerves getting the best of him. He had been waiting for what's to come for quite some time and now that it's almost here, Maerath feels as if he's just barely prepared.
  
  Only time will tell if his doubts are well-placed... But for the sake of his future, Maerath can only pray that he is ready.
• Weapon of choice:
  
  • A One (or Two-Handed, depending on the situation) Steel Sword forged by his Father and his workers. The sword remains nameless as of yet, but Maerath hopes that will be rectified in the future.
  
  
  
  
  • He also carries with him a basic wooden shield, given to him by the King as part of his initiation as a Squire.
  
  
  
  
  Clothing/Armor:
  
  • His Regular Clothes
  
  
  
  
  • A set of reinforced Steel mail which was also forged by his Father.
  
  ** He hasn't yet required a helmet outside of a few sparring sessions, so he doesn't have one yet **
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  On top of the armour, he also wears a thick brown cloak made from wool, allowing him to stay warm in the cold mountain air.
  
  Skills:
  
  • Talented Cook
  
  • Well Read/Well Versed thanks to his Knight Training (Booksmart and Streetsmart)
  
  • Knows how to play the Ocarina, (he's also got a great singing voice)
  
  • Can more then handle a Sword and he's also been trained in hand-to-hand combat, although he would prefer not to get into a fight if he can help it.
  
  • Can recall practically anything he read/heard (has an iconic memory).
  
  • Quick Witted/Persuasive
  
  
• Maerath always carries a map of Middle Earth with him, more as a simple precaution in the event that he ever had to venture out into the world. He doubts it would happen as often as he'd like to believe, but it never hurt to be overly prepared.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Mobile Friendly Version

Rion Devontry

Character Name/Title Gear and Skills

• 
  
  
  
  Name | Catriona 'Rion' Devontry
  Race | Human
  Age | Twenty-one
  Height | 5'5"
  Weight | 120lbs.
  
  Appearance | While undeniably beautiful, Catriona is not what one might consider delicate - wider in the hips and bust, with a full, round face and slightly masculine jawline. Alabaster skin wears well a smattering of honey freckles, a full pink mouth crooked, with a small faint scar in the upper right corner. Her nose is small and straight, eyes deep-set - a sterling blue - surrounded by thick black lashes and framed by highly arched browns.
  
  Her hair is a crown of burnt auburn, a brilliant hue, complimenting the pallor of her skin and depth of her dark eyes. Most often she wears it in a plait which hangs down to her waste, with little to no ornamentation.
  
  Personality | Once, only a short time ago, Catriona might have been described as a brilliant light - a warm, wholesome young woman with a kind, if not ambitious, disposition and a sincerely optimistic outlook on the world around her.
  
  Unfortunately, tragedy has all but eradicated that warm spirit and left instead an angry, bitter shell, dead-set on vengeance with very little room for much else. But light exists still, deep within, revealed in subtle, but undeniable measure. Fortune has not favored her and made of her a stoic, frigid creature, but there is still goodness and grace, shrouded beneath the shadow woven around her heart.
  
  Character Strengths | Persistent, persuasive, resourceful
  Character Weaknesses | Bitter, cold, strong-willed
  
  

  

  
  Biography |Catriona was born in Dorwinion on a vineyard owned by her rather large, extended family. The middle child of eight brothers and sisters, she grew up with a strong sense of responsibility and a powerful work ethic, but also surrounded by the warmth and love of her parents, her siblings, aunts, uncles and more cousins than she could count. A village comprised of family, she never wanted for affection or company and taking the role of apprentice under her father, she learned young the merits of the life of a wine merchant - most particularly the excitement of traveling.
  
  Everything changed rather drastically however when, while she was on a distribution run, Dorwinion was ambushed by the Easterlings, her family savagely murdered, the vineyard burned to cinders. Catriona received word of the attack on her return home and was devastated to find there had been no survivors. Broken by loss, Catriona vowed vengeance and set out on a mission to find those responsible. Eventually, her journey would take her to Dale, where she found herself a bit at a loss, though no less determined.​
• 
  
  
  Weapon of choice |Apart from what she's learned in passing, or was taught by her brothers, Catriona has little weapon training. She carries a small, dull blade on her person, but also travels with a long iron sword which belonged to her father. Despite her lack of training, she is a quick learner, scrappy and eager, as well as resourceful, not disinclined to utilizing the things around her as make-shift weapons and tools.
  
  

  

  no-lightbox

  Clothing/Armor | Rion wears a gown of grey linen, stitched with a black floral pattern and a slate blue travelers cloak. On her feet are slightly worn boots of black leather, and around her waist a woven belt into which a crude sheath has been sewn, housing a slightly dull knife.
  
  Inventory | Rion travels with a small dapple-grey mare named Taura, a cart horse with a strong back, but short, lazy stride. In a fairly large saddle bag she keeps a stock of traveling gear (including a second warmer cloak, fresh boot twine and a pair of leather gloves having belonged to her brother), cured meat and crackers, dried herbs, apples and potatoes, two flasks apiece of her family's wine and mead, a heavy cast-iron skillet (that doubles as a weapon) and a deer-hide journal.
  
  Skills | Having apprenticed with her father and brothers for several years now, she is skilled in the art of wine crafting and cooking, and has a fairly complex palate. Outside of culinary talents, Rion is well versed in her family's business - and with an effortless, charming air about her, has a knack beyond ordinary for salesmanship.
  ​

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[bg=#B7D3C4]

▊▊▊ NAME | Catriona 'Rion' Devontry || RACE | Human | Dorwinion || AGE | Twenty-one || HEIGHT | 5'5" || WEIGHT | 120lbs.

APPEARANCE​

While undeniably beautiful, Catriona is not what one might consider delicate - wider in the hips and bust, with a full, round face and slightly masculine jawline. Alabaster skin wears well a smattering of honey freckles, a full pink mouth crooked, with a small faint scar in the upper right corner. Her nose is small and straight, eyes deep-set - a sterling blue - surrounded by thick black lashes and framed by highly arched browns.

Her hair is a crown of burnt auburn, a brilliant hue, complimenting the pallor of her skin and depth of her dark eyes. Most often she wears it in a plait which hangs down to her waste, with little to no ornamentation.

PERSONALITY​

Once, only a short time ago, Catriona might have been described as a brilliant light - a warm, wholesome young woman with a kind, if not ambitious, disposition and a sincerely optimistic outlook on the world around her.

Unfortunately, tragedy has all but eradicated that warm spirit and left instead an angry, bitter shell, dead-set on vengeance with very little room for much else. But light exists still, deep within, revealed in subtle, but undeniable measure. Fortune has not favored her and made of her a stoic, frigid creature, but there is still goodness and grace, shrouded beneath the shadow woven around her heart.

---

GEAR & SKILLS​

CLOTHING | Rion wears a gown of grey linen, stitched with a black floral pattern and a slate blue travelers cloak. On her feet are slightly worn boots of black leather, and around her waist a woven belt into which a crude sheath has been sewn, housing a slightly dull knife.

WEAPON | Apart from what she's learned in passing, or was taught by her brothers, Catriona has little weapon training. She carries a small, dull blade on her person, but also travels with a long iron sword which belonged to her father. Despite her lack of training, she is a quick learner, scrappy and eager, as well as resourceful, not disinclined to utilizing the things around her as make-shift weapons and tools.

INVENTORY | Rion travels with a small dapple-grey mare named Taura, a cart horse with a strong back, but short, lazy stride. In a fairly large saddle bag she keeps a stock of traveling gear (including a second warmer cloak, fresh boot twine and a pair of leather gloves having belonged to her brother), cured meat and crackers, dried herbs, apples and potatoes, two flasks apiece of her family's wine and mead, a heavy cast-iron skillet (that doubles as a weapon) and a deer-hide journal.

SKILLS | Having apprenticed with her father and brothers for several years now, she is skilled in the art of wine crafting and cooking, and has a fairly complex palate. Outside of culinary talents, Rion is well versed in her family's business - and with an effortless, charming air about her, has a knack beyond ordinary for salesmanship.

---

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STRENGTHS​

⟡ Persistent |
⟡ Persuasive |
⟡ Resourceful |

WEAKNESSES​

❖ Bitter |
❖ Cold |
❖ Strong-willed |

---

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BIOGRAPHY​

Catriona was born in Dorwinion on a vineyard owned by her rather large, extended family. The middle child of eight brothers and sisters, she grew up with a strong sense of responsibility and a powerful work ethic, but also surrounded by the warmth and love of her parents, her siblings, aunts, uncles and more cousins than she could count. A village comprised of family, she never wanted for affection or company and taking the role of apprentice under her father, she learned young the merits of the life of a wine merchant - most particularly the excitement of traveling.

Everything changed rather drastically however when, while she was on a distribution run, Dorwinion was ambushed by the Easterlings, her family savagely murdered, the vineyard burned to cinders. Catriona received word of the attack on her return home and was devastated to find there had been no survivors. Broken by loss, Catriona vowed vengeance and set out on a mission to find those responsible. Eventually, her journey would take her to Dale, where she found herself a bit at a loss, though no less determined.

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[Spectre]

Arastor

Character Name/Title Gear and Skills Other

• 
  Name: Arastor
  Race: Elven (Sylvan)
  Age: 945
  Height:6'
  Weight: ~180lbs
  Appearance:
  Appearance

  
  Arastor is a healthy Sylvan elf- slightly taller than most men. He has dark brown shoulder length hair, and his long ears peek through like most elves can't avoid. He has large keen silvery gray eyes beneath his angular dark brows. He has softer facial features, a straight nose, and average lips. He is pale, and his complexion is- like most elves- smooth and youthful.
  
  Personality: Arastor tends to keep to himself quite often. Living among elves most of his life, and not traveling far from the Mirkwood in his years have left him slightly mistrustful of other races. He recognizes that he can't remain this way, so often tries to get himself out of his own little bubble. He is a dutiful elf and has grown up taking orders most of his life. Like most Sylvan elves, he tends to not mind Humans as much as other races, though will try to meet kindness with kindness if it initially gives him some benefit. Despite being slightly more introverted, he is quite curious and inquisitive of new things. Arastor's tendencies are to underplay his accomplishments, and to have a hard time saying 'no' to requests that come his way.
  
  Character Strengths: Analytical and perceptive, patient, hard working, and doesn't give up easily. Remains to be quite supportive of good ideas, friends, and teammates. Good with animals. After spending lots of time on the range- his experience gives him excellent wilderness survival skills.
  
  Character Weaknesses: SLOW to warm up to others. Naturally shy. Tends to take things personally. He's a Bottler- repressing his feelings- often until he explodes or implodes. Tends to overload himself with responsibility. Reluctant to change. Quite jaded with Mirkwood life. Quick to judge. Has a hard time turning off his militant mindset. Very black and white when it comes to life.
  
  Short Biography: Arastor has lived most of his life in the confines of the Greenwood. Ever since he was old enough, he always carried a bow in his hand, in preparation for his dream- defending their homes from the darkness. Not unlike many other young elves of his time. His father was a quartermaster for Thurandil's army, and Arastor wanted to be just like him. His mother was an architect and musician, who then bore twin girls almost two hundred years after Arastor's birth.
  
  Arastor grew up without much trouble. He fit in well, and made friends easily. When he became of age, he joined the Mirkwood guard, acting as civil defense, law enforcement, and a border guard. This means he spent a lot of time travelling around the borders of the dwellings, and making sure the encroaching creatures of darkness were kept at bay. After showing his skill here for many years, he then moved on to a watchman patrol group. Life got a little more dangerous- scouting the wood, and often hunting down encroaching orc scout parties, Spider nests, and other intruders. He has spent a lot of time in the wood with his company- not often returning to the settlements. They were self reliant, travelling in groups of three or four, reporting back to camps every so often with news, and often taking orders through written messages passed on by a single carrier, or by bird.
  
  In his younger years, he has always had an enthusiastic aura to him- and a bit of a 'go getter'. Always willing to prove himself, and wanting to climb that military ladder. This has begun to wear off as he worked on long range recon patrols for centuries, and he has started to become a bit jaded and 'lost' with himself and his identity. He knew he was good at what he did martially, and used to find purpose in that. But things began to change. Spider attacks became more frequent, and seeing orcs- or signs of them- became more regular. Something was brewing.
  
  With all the things changing in the world around him, not many Sylvan elves are keen to change with it. He is slowly opening up to the idea that he can't really help the wood without dealing with the root of the problem... And is seeking opportunities to prove that this is true- and help the greater good as an emissary of his people. He, like a few others, believe that there is something that needs to be done about this. The Sylvan Elves certainly have their own problems to deal with, but what happens when the homes of men, and the caves of the dwarves are no longer holding back the waves of darkness?
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  Weapon of choice:
  Bow

  
  He uses an elven recurve bow. These are standard issue to the scout parties, compared to the army's longbows. He has nicknamed his bow "Aegros"- or 'piercing rain'. This is what his company had been nicknamed by one of the bordering Orc tribes they come across and harass often. He prefers speed and accuracy, and these bows allow him those things in spades.
  
  
  Daggers

  
  He also has two daggers that are easily placed horizontally on the back of his belt. These are often used more as a tool than weapon. Skinning, carving, cutting grope, etc. However he has, can, and will use them if he is forced into a melee.
  
  Clothing/Armor:
  
  stage left

  
  He wears typical clothing and armor of a Mirkwood scout.
  
  He wears a thick hooded cowl that is a brown color with a slight camouflage pattern in it.
  
  On his body- a leather vest over a sleeveless elven scale hauberk.
  
  His tunic beneath this is long sleeved and of a forest green and olive color- it has a camouflaged pattern to it. The tunic has six long flaps that reach down to his knees and beyond- this creates a 'leaf' or 'grass'-like appearance, and also helps with silhouette dissipation.
  
  On his forearms He wears leather bracers with the same brown color and pattern as his cowl.
  
  His pants are of a similar wooded camouflaged pattern, but a slightly more pale green color. These are tucked into long knee-high leather boots that are the same leather camouflaged pattern as his cowl and bracers.
  
  For his gear, he wears an elven quiver on his right hip attached to a wide leather belt, and a thiner belt over this to hold purses and other things. He has a muted green-gray hooded cloak rolled up by his quiver if needed. Also has a pack for rations, and a small pan flute tied to this.
  
  
  Skills: As an Elven Ranger- he is a very well trained- and practiced expert marksman and swordsman. He is well versed in traversing different types of terrain- both in speed and stealth. He can also fend for himself and survive off the wilderness- carrying some knowledge of first aide, as well as minor botany, hunting, and foraging.
  
  Good short term tactician- always preferring to attack on two fronts.
  
  Decent 'on the fly' fletcher.
  
  Decent woodcarver.
  
  Can play a pan flute, and a pretty good singer.
  
  He doesn't like to gamble, but knows many games that he and his rangers use to keep themselves occupied in down-time.
  
  Loves wine, and can hold his liquor almost as well as your average dwarf.
  
• 
  Wishes to overcome that sense of xenophobic mistrust he has as a Sylvan elf.
  
  He wants recognition for his skill. Despite being humble, he does like compliments.
  
  Despises Orcs.
  
  Fears giant spiders- though only because their appearance creeps him out. He has no problems standing up to one and flaying it- or more accurately- placing a few well placed arrows in it's eye/s.
  
  Knows Elder Tauriel- but she would likely only recognize his name due to some minor merits in his range accomplishments.
  
  His mother and father still live, and has two younger twin sisters. He visits them as often as he can.
  
  Does not like to eat meat.
  
  Despite being an introvert- he does not prefer to be alone. He just likes to know that someone is 'there' if he needs it. "Quiet company" is what he would call it.
  
  Hasn't really had many goals of his own. Wants to change this since he is getting older- and his world is getting a lot bigger.
  
  

 

[Effervescent]

The Tolkien Dwarf The Lonely Mountain Equipment Equipment

• 
  
  

  ---

  
  
  
  
  

  BIRTHPLACE || Iron Hills || HERITAGE || Son of Denhen || RACE || dwarf || HEIGHT ||4'9" || WEIGHT || 98 lbs || EYE COLOR || hazel || HAIR COLOR || chestnut|| AGE || 110​

  
  Physical Appearance
  
  While not necessarily imposing, Dunen is of a leaner stature than most his kin. Beneath the layers of clothing is a muscular physique built from hard labor as a brick mason. His broad shoulders, thick hair, and braided beard give him an appearance of bulk. His hair falls just past his broad shoulders in a mane of light chestnut brown, and his beard is styled simply with only a clasp to hold the very end that hits just to the length of his chest. Hazel eyes are inlaid under a deep brow that is no stranger to outwardly and readily displaying his thoughts.
  
  His attire is comprised of soft leathers and fabrics of earthen hue, durable for travel and weathered from use. His belt clasp is of dwarven make crafted in iron with a simple engraved knot for ornamentation. Upon three fingers he wears sentimental rings. He carries with him a dwarven battle axe.
  
  His armor consists mostly of chain link mail tucked under his layers in a dull silver sheen. His shoulders, forearms, and shins are guarded by a set of light plates engraved with knotted ornamentation and secured upon studded leather. Atop his head rests a helm of thick metal embellished with the same designs.
  
• 
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  Weapon of choice: A battle axe of dwarven make, double sided and ornamented with angular knots. Its length is four feet.
  
  Other Skills: rock climbing, first aid, cooking
  
  Inventory:
  
  Dunen carries very little on his person as he often travels on foot. The axe is most of the weight he chooses to bear, while other items take up far less space. A bundle of cured meat presides in the biggest pouch along his thick belt along with a few coins. In another pouch presides herbs meant more for recreation, to which he partakes with his simple pipe of old oak.
  
  

 

[Doctor Jax]

[BCOLOR=transparent]

Bregolion Longarm

[/BCOLOR]

What's In A Name? What's In A Name? The Fullness of One's Character Gear and Skills

•  
•  
• 
  
  [BCOLOR=transparent]Character Strengths: He is a quick study. His learning ability makes him something of a prodigy, even among the Silvan elves. That, of course, does not make him particularly bookish -- merely good at picking up skills after relatively few tries. He also possesses a rather stolid moral compass, which swings rarely to the left or the right but ever forward. He is not in the habit of changing his principles, and he believes he comes by his opinions thoughtfully and with great confidence. He is knowledgeable and quick-witted, and he is ever of a cheerful countenance (though some may argue this is more facade than nature).
  
  Character Weaknesses: Incredibly argumentative, he is given to needling his elders and his peers about certain matters that he finds interesting, sometimes playing the devil's advocate merely to watch a person flounder. This has lost him some friends, who find him far too eager to argue. He is philosophically inclined (though, again, not bookish), and he often questions the very nature of reality and the meaning of all, even as he believes in the Valar and the Maiar and the Land Beyond the West. He can be brooding when overcome with these thoughts.
  
  He is also lazy to a fault. His ability to pick up skills makes him unwilling to put much effort into what he does, as he does things sufficiently well enough to pass muster, but no more. Sometimes, he is lazy just to prove a point, or to jab at some elf who's taken it upon themselves to tell him what to do. He is fiercely independent and prefers to do things his way, which has had him butting heads with others several times. It takes a person of great character to convince Bregolion to do that which he wills not.
  
  Biography: Bregolion's father, Bregolir, was a hard elf, one known for his decisiveness and brutality when it came to meting out punishment. He was a capable captain of the guard, master of his men, and well-respected for his combat prowess. In comparison, Bregolion's mother was as bright as the stars that were her namesake. Between these two, Bregolion was brought up with equal measures love and sternness. Bregolion came to favor his mother, given the fact his father continually pushed him to do better and more, as well as follow in his footsteps, but Bregolion found himself more inclined to seeking the world outside of the Wooded Realm.
  
  He and his father frequently came to verbal blows over the path of his future, a rarity in the elven world, with only his mother to mediate between the two staunchly opposed forces. And then, Smaug awoke.
  
  Bregolion was 30 years old at the time, hardly more than a child, but he was old enough and wise enough to hold a bow and shoot straight. With excitement, he realized he would have the opportunity to fight, despite his mother's worries. He would well suffer his father's cold stare, if it meant that he was able to see beyond the Wooded Realm.
  
  Battle, however, was not how he had first envisioned it. While he was an adept at the bow, he was not prepared for the carnage that became the Battle of Five Armies. He slew what seemed like countless goblins near Ravenhill, confused and wartorn as the melee seemed to continue for hours on end. He suffered a mace to the foot, and due to the chaotic nature of the battle, it took almost two days for a healer to get to healing it. Bregolion would never walk with the sprightly gait of the youthful. His foot was well beyond the repair of any healer, and instead was set in a crooked way.
  
  As if to make matters worse, his father had been far more successful in his enterprises, and that seemed like salt in the wound. While his mother was delighted to see her son and husband back home, both were well aware of the disappointment the father felt towards the son, and the resentment the son felt towards the father.[/BCOLOR]
  
  [BCOLOR=transparent]Eager to redeem himself, but stricken by his lame foot, Bregolion became an adept marksman, able to shoot from incredibly distances but unable to move from any set point he so chose. He became incredibly attuned to his surroundings, retraining himself to fight with as few moves as possible. It was difficult for a young elf to admit he now had the reach of an aged Man, but he soon proved himself able. However, his father, captain of the guard, refused to make him a protector of the Wooded Realm, and so instead, he helped some friends with their trade endeavors with the Lakemen, negotiating prices. While it sated his wanderlust, it did nothing for the gaping wound in his pride, and so he waits for the chance to jump at the call and be more than Bregolian the Lame.[/BCOLOR]
  
• 
  
  [BCOLOR=transparent]Skills: He is a supreme marksman. It is perhaps the only thing he puts effort into, and it shows. He has incredibly deadly aim, even while a target is moving. The only caveat is that for him to hit a moving or still target, he must be completely still. He can hit a target while on horseback, but his aim will not be nearly as accurate. Bregolion has impressive range, able to hit targets almost 400 yards away. However, the farther the distance required, the more clear the shot must be, and thus Bregolion's far-off shots had to be meticulously planned.
  
  Bregolion is also a master negotiator, able to talk circles around most Men, and even most elves. Perhaps the only person unfazed by his seeming confidence and eloquence was his father, against whom he has never won an argument. Bregolion possesses great mental skill, but it is largely wasted on making extremely petty comments, which belie his cheerful demeanor. He is a master of twisting the mind, almost to the point of near-supernatural ability, but to do so would take far too much of his energy, and so he is largely harmless, if annoying. [/BCOLOR]

 

[rissa]

Mírien​

The Lothlórien Foster Gear and Skills Biography Other

• 
  Name: Mírien/Gworien
  
  Race: Human
  
  Age: 27
  
  Height: 5'9"
  
  Weight: 139 lbs
  
  Appearance: Mírien is beautiful, undoubtedly, though she may think otherwise. She has a heart shaped face with sharp cheekbones and a sculpted nose. With full lips and a set of azuline-colored eyes framed by dark chestnut brown hair. The swarthy color contrasts lovely with her moonlit skin. She is neither short or tall, thin or portly, she is just right. Years of training with her father and older brother has given her numerous scars and a physique well earned.
  
  Personality: Hard to read and harder to understand, Mírien dances on the precipice of confusion. To her, perfection is everything. Growing up with a foster mother who thinks you're less than dirt because of who you are has given her a warped sense of self. Mírien is reserved, patient, and self-deprecating. She knows when to hold her tongue and when to voice her opinions but she rather just keep to herself. She takes pleasure in the simplest of things and enjoys music, dancing, and a good time. Once her protective shell is broken, Mírien is a deeply passionate and protective woman who just wants the best for those she loves.
  
  Character Strengths
  
  • A SEDULOUS NATURE
  • A STOICAL CORE
  • AN EMPATHETIC HEART
  
  Character Weaknesses
  
  • A NEED TO PLEASE
  • HER PERCEPTION OF SELF
  • PERFECTION IS EVERYTHING
  
  
• 
  Clothing/Armor: Mírien is just as comfortable in her gowns as she is in her leathers and armor. Although she prefers simple colors and designs, she likes when the prior brings out her eyes. As for armor, she's come to the conclusion that sometimes less is more. Besides a relatively light-weight elven-made dress of mail, Mírien is rather unarmored. Yet, her skill resides in speed and being unencumbered by weight is a tactical risk.
  
  Weapon of Choice: An elven blade, named Luinûr, which was gifted by her foster father.
  
  Inventory:
  
  • A hunting bow and a quiver full of arrows.
  • Dried meats and fish and lembas.
  • A dapple grey mare named Mithroch.
  • Survival necessities including flint and tinder, waterskins, fishing materials, basic cooking equipment, a sieve, salt, a whetstone, filet knives and rope.
  
  Other Skills
  
  • Mírien is bilingual; she speaks the common tongue (Westron) as well as one of the elven tongues (Sindarin).
  • Mírien is quite the huntress, having been taught by her father how to wield a bow before her tenth name-day. She's even developed a proclivity for making traps.
  • Though she only ever sings in front of her brother Alagos, Mírien has quite the singing voice.
• 
  Biography: Unbeknownst to her, Mírien was born to Rohirrim nobles, of the lesser variety, almost three decades ago. Fleeing from an Uruk attack in North Rohan the small family, including one-and-a-half year old Mírien, made their way to the Fangorn forest. The nobles, as resourceful as they were, starved to death a month or so later.
  
  Quickbeam the Ent heard a man-child crying in his neck of Fangorn while out one morning and found a baby in a small grove of rowan trees. Upon further investigating, the Ent found a man and a woman, both dead, a little distance away from the grove. Taking pity on the man-child, Quickbeam took her back to his ent-house to care for it. Luckily for Mírien, a Lothlórien scout arrived a few days later. He happened to be scouting the Forest of Fangorn and when he decided to visit an old friend, he found a great surprise.
  
  Galadan the Scout conceded defeat after the constant pleading of Quickbeam and took the child home with him. His wife Saelriel was none too happy about it but she too, conceded defeat, when Galadan refused to take her back to the Ent where she would quickly perish. Their son Alagos, who had just celebrated his third name-day, was fond of the man-child and the two became close. To Saelriel's dismay. After awhile, Galadan named the child Mírien and Saelriel who refused to call her that, chose the name Gworien.
  
  Alagos called her Gworien until he was old enough to understand what it meant. He never called her Gworien again. Years went and Mírien grew in the golden canopied forest of Lothlórien. She spent a lot of time with her father scouting and ranging and when Galadan couldn't say no anymore, he and Alagos spent time training Mírien how to wield a blade. It was hard, made even harder by the fact that her teachers were both elves, but eventually Mírien caught on. Though rarely besting either of them, Mírien is fast and resilient and never one to simply give up.
  
  
• 
  
  • Luinûr means "blue fire" and was named by her foster father Galadan.
  • Mírien means "jewel or treasure" whereas Gworien means "soiled or stinky."
  • Though she loves Galadan, Alagos, and Saelrien very much, she still wishes to know who were real parents were and where they hailed from and if she has any remaining relatives still alive.
  • Saelriel, despite still being outwardly bitter, has grown rather fond of Gworien. "She could be worse."
  • Though doubtful she'd ever receive the honor, Mirien aspires to be a Lorien scout like her foster father.
  • The reason she doesn't sing in front of anybody except her brother is that Saelriel once told her she sounded like rooster crowing in the morn.
  • Though having fought in a few Uruk battles, always alongside her brother Alagos and father Galadan; Mirien is yet to prove herself battle worthy.