The Fellowship

This is the OOC Forum for the Oaths of the Riddermark game.

Moderator: Wbweather

User avatar
Wbweather
Level 13 Elite
Level 13 Elite
Posts: 2085
Location: Kansas
User Class: Wanderer

The Fellowship

Post by Wbweather » Wed Jun 13, 2018 9:57 pm

Post your characters here.

User avatar
HunterGreen
Level 2
Level 2
Posts: 88
Location: Vermont
User Class: Hunter

Sangric

Post by HunterGreen » Wed Jun 13, 2018 10:09 pm

Sangric
(means "song of victory")
Culture: Rider of Rohan      Standard of Living: Martial
Cultural Blessing: Fey Mood  Background: Minstrel of the Golden Hall
Calling: Scholar             Shadow-weakness: Lure of secrets
Specialties: Story-telling, Minstrelsy, Rhymes of Lore
Distinctive Features: Robust, True-hearted
Character Details:
Body: 5(6)    Heart: 5(8)   Wits: 4(6)
Awe 2         Inspire 2     Persuade 1
Athletics 3   Travel 2      Stealth  0
Awareness 1   Insight 2     Search   0
Explore 1     Healing 0     Hunting  1
Song 3        Courtesy 2    Riddle   1
Craft 1       Battle 2      Lore     2

Weapon Skills
(Spears): 2
Sword: 1
Dagger: 1

Rewards: none
Virtues: Old Songs and Children's Tales

Gear
Great Spear   dmg 9  edge 9    inj 16   enc 4
Short Sword   dmg 5  edge 10   inj 14   enc 1
Dagger        dmg 3  edge G    inj 12   enc 0
Mail shirt    d3                        enc 12
Lyre
Ox-horn
Drum
Horse: sorrel mare palfrey, Arfáh

Valour    1     Wisdom   2
Damage    5     Ranged   5
Parry     4     Shield   0
Armor     3d    Headgear 0
Endurance 27    Fatigue  17
Hope      13    Shadow   0

Backstory:
Sangric's father Sangifu served as a minstrel in Fengel's court, then returned to his hometown of Aldburg to be Cenric's court minstrel, when his son Sangric was still a boy being raised to the trade. A fey mood took Sangric when, at the age of 15, he saw his younger sister Cynead badly injured in an otherwise unremarkable orc attack. He hung up the lyre and joined Cenric's éored, but after eight years, his love for story and song was reawakened when his father sang at Cynead's wedding. Cenric would not release him from service, so he practiced the minstrel's arts on his own until he was freed at the age of 30. He left Aldburg, glad to be away from Cenric, to travel to every town, village, and croft of the Mark and learn their songs and tales. A few years ago, he was in a small, unimportant market square in Edoras telling the tale of Círion and Hallas at Amon Anwar, when Thengel chanced to be passing nearby enough to overhear it. Intrigued by how Sangric depicted Gondor, he listened in secret. Impressed, he invited Sangric to spend several days in Meduseld telling tales, and learning from the court minstrel, before continuing on his journeys through the Mark.

Picture:
Image
Last edited by HunterGreen on Thu Jun 14, 2018 11:04 pm, edited 9 times in total.
Join our Discord chat for TOR and AiME: https://discord.me/theonering

User avatar
Blubbo_Baggins
Level 14 Elite
Level 14 Elite
Posts: 3767
Location: The Old Forest

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Blubbo_Baggins » Wed Jun 13, 2018 10:15 pm

Torwin
Culture: Rider of Rohan
Calling: Warden
Background: Grandson of the Doorward
Shadow Weakness: Lure of Power
Traits: Grim, Tall
Specialties: Riddermark-lore, Horsemanship, Shadow-lore
Character Sheet
Image

Image
Motivations/Background:
In 2912, at the age of 18, Ealdred became a Doorwarden of Meduseld. His family line had been royal guards for many generations, prosperous and known for their keen insight and wise counsel. Though the King did not consider his doorwardens to be official advisors, it was not uncommon for men in such positions to counsel their Lord. Thus Ealdred fulfilled the duty of his noble lineage and served under Fengel.

For 9 years Fengel had been King, and his rule had neglected the laws of the Riddermark. Some even said the King encouraged instability, for this allowed him to seize the lands and horses of nobles who died in battle (instead of going to their heirs), to overtax merchants, or to allow smuggling so long as it benefited himself. In all this Ealdred saw the men of ill-repute with whom the King dealt, and would have barred them entrance, save the express command of Fengel.

In time, Ealdred and others began to fear for the stability of the realm, feeling as if Fengel would sell Rohan to its enemies. It was not uncommon to see men out of the East or far South, or even Dunlendings to take counsel with the King.

Finally, unable to be complicit in such dealings Ealdred began to send such folk away, hoping to end the dark business being done in Meduseld. In doing so he drew the ill-favour of Fengel, and it wasn't long before the King gave him a new assignment: that of a captain of the East gate of Edoras.

Though the position commanded more men, it was a quiet way for the King to send Ealdred away, and to shame him privately. This was the final straw that moved Ealdred to action, and so he began to meet secretly with other leaders, discussing the King's folly and greed and the growing problems in the realm. In these meetings Ealdred hoped to unite the nobility, and together to confront the King peaceably, forcing him to uphold the laws of the Riddermark.

It was now 2936 of the Third Age. Many who spoke with Ealdred were stirred, desiring some action, but before plans were set in motion, Ealdred's only son Torwin was born. It was a joyous time and for some time Ealdred's wrath was cooled and the secret meetings dissipated.

Then in 2943, in the thought of many, Fengel grew overconfident in his power and began to overreach. For he gave his nobles free reign to annex lands, horses, and even wives into their households and estates; the King led in this by example, starting with nobles and leaders who were out of favor. Ealdred had ever been a thorn in the King's side, and thus Fengel took the family's horse pasture to the north of the city as his own, and threatened the annexation would not stop there, if Ealdred did not submit to the King's will.

With this, Ealdred began to discuss with his supporters open rebellion or any means to put an end to Fengel's evil works.

As a horse stiffens the hair upon its neck when it is alerted to danger, so murmurs of conspiracy began to grow in Edoras; and though Fengel was a lazy, greedy King, he was no fool. In secret he sent men faithful to himself, tasking them to befriend those the King deemed untrustworthy.

Thus it came to pass that Ealdred was brought to Meduseld for a feast, in which Fengel appeared to praise his faithful commanders, and asked them for help to improve the Kingdom. But it was a ruse; for one of the so-called conspirators was a spy, and had betrayed the names of Ealdred and his supporters to the King. As those at the feast were lifting their goblets to make a toast, the King gave a secret signal; those loyal to the King knew it, and sat down.

At this Ealdred and the men with him knew they had been revealed, and in desperation confronted the King before the hall; Ealdred called the King's deeds treacherous and greedy, and that they poisoned the good of Rohan. Then he and those with him said they would swear again their oath to the Lord of the Riddermark, but only to a man worthy of the title, who did not threaten to destroy Rohan from within. Ealdred's zeal took him perhaps too far, for he ended these speeches with the words, "You must uphold the laws of the Mark, King Fengel, or you are no King, and we will find another, who will not bring the curse of broken oaths across Calenardhon."

To this the King replied, and with a wave of his hand silenced the hall looking at those who still stood. "Enough. I have heard your worries and complaints." A smile crossed his lips, and then he looked at Ealdred, "Do you then wish to find such a man? A man who hates broken oaths? A man who you would make king?"

Ealdred said nothing, but wondered what trap the King now set for him.

"I take your proud words and your silence as agreement. I set then before you this task: go and find this man, a man who keeps oaths. Though I grant you this boon, I give one condition; I name the place where you must go to get such a man. If he returns with you and is willing, I will hand him my crown, and he shall be the new Lord of the Riddermark."

Fengel looked to his advisors, then again at Ealdred, "Do you accept?"

If he were to decline, Ealdred knew that the cause would be over. The King was now granting their wish, publicly, and if he did not accept it, the only alternative would be to quietly lay down as Fengel spread evil from within, or to move toward open civil war. At least there was some small chance that, walking into this trap, he could succeed, and find a man to replace Fengel without bloodshed.

"I accept."

"Good," replied Fengel. "Then you will go to Dunharrow."

Ealdred was puzzled by this for it seemed too easy, but just as the King spoke again, he realized his doom,

"From Dunharrow you will enter the Dimholt, and take the Paths of the Dead. For all know that these men hate oathbreakers more than all. For they, like you, were not true to their King; but broke their oaths and were cursed forever. Go now, if your cause is just and they deem me an oathbreaker, then let them select a man to rule the Riddermark, and I will go and join the dead."

With these words Ealdred's heart sank, for he knew the King had given him a death sentence, and yet Fengel's guile had made it seem as if he was putting his own rule to the test. For no one knew what the dead would do, and Ealdred's fate was not certain. If he never returned he would be labeled an oathbreaker; if he came back he would return a hero, and the King's power would be lessened, and perhaps things would change in Rohan without the spilling of blood.

As the fortunes of Ealdred's family had fallen, so now they went over the brink.

The next week Ealdred and a few of his bravest companions left for Dunharrow. Against his wishes, his wife Brunfled came to Dunharrow the following day, bringing with her Torwin and his younger sisters, Sorrun and Sorwyn, twins born that year. Ealdred and his companions had not yet departed, and he again told his wife to return to Edoras, where she at least had family who would see after her in the days to come. But she was headstrong, and her will strengthened his resolve, and he purposed to leave the next morning.

That night, Brunfled left the tent, and purposing to protect her husband, took the Paths of the Dead. She expected the dead to treat her differently, for she came as a woman, not out of pride, nor seeking treasure, but in desperation - coming to seek the aid of the Dead. And she hoped that they would hear her. And they did, but the price she paid was high.

At dawn Ealdred awoke and went to bid his wife goodbye, but she was not in the tent and the children were asleep. He expected she had stepped out and searching the area for her, found nothing. Beginning to fear he took his companions and they entered the Dimholt and came to the Dark Door in the side of the Dwimorberg. There he found a green ribbon laid neatly by the door and with surprise felt his darkest fears circling about his head, like ravens before battle.

Thus Ealdred and his companions passed into the darkness without thought of self-preservation, for instead of a hopeless quest to find the Dead, they went to find Brunfled.

In the darkness of Dwimorberg they became enmeshed in shadows, and were filled with madness. Wandering aimless they became separated, and then the dead were aroused and pursued them. One by one the companions of Ealdred were lost, until at last he was alone. But in that hour he heard a voice lifted in song, which seemed to pierce the shadows and dissipate. Yet his wits returned to him and the torch he held became a beacon rather than the dazzling brightness it had been. There in the corner of the room wherein he stood was a black sword on the ground. He took it up and the spirits who had been pursuing him shrank back and he passed on. But did not he hear the voice again and when he came out of the mountain Brunfled was not there, nor was she ever again found.

Ealdred's grief was great, but the need to care for his children and the desire for vengeance against Fengel kept him from madness. At this time he began calling his son Torbert, for he believed that not only had their family line lost its fortune, but that now an evil fortune pursued them.

The black sword he wore ever by his side, as a reminder of his oath for vengeance against Fengel. Yet it seemed that a curse followed him wherever he went, and though the sword was a great aid against the foes of Rohan, yet in the end it betrayed Ealdred.
As has been told, Torwin was born in 2936 in Edoras and moved to Dunharrow at the age of seven. Of his mother he remembered her long dark hair, her hardy nature, and her sweet voice which often sang to his twin sisters, who were yet babes when she was lost.

Dunharrow was the home of the family exile, and so planning to never return to Edoras, Ealdred pledged his service as a soldier under Hereward, Lord of Harrowdale. And though Ealdred was more skilled and experienced than most of the men under Hereward's command, his curse pursued him, and whether by the prejudice of the Men of Harrowdale against an outsider, or to keep him from a position of power, Ealdred was never promoted. The only benefit was that from a young age Torwin had the use of the radhors who were retired from service; it was on these his father taught him horsemanship.

Though Torwin's first years were in Edoras, he grew accustomed to the ways of the men of Harrowdale, and became one with their folk, unlike his father. He was always tall, by the age of eleven too large to fit into his father's boots. At that time the town blacksmith spoke with his father, then asked Torwin to apprentice. Torwin accepted the position, but soon disliked the work. For three years he apprenticed, and yet besides growing stronger, he never went beyond the basic skills needed to be a blacksmith for it was clear it was not his path.

Four years passed. In the Autumn his father returned after more than a month away, bringing news from across the Mark that there was a new King in Edoras, a foreigner, and that in his honor a great feast would be held on the first day of Spring. In Edoras there would be food and music to celebrate, and games to test the strength, wits, and horsemanship of the Eafolk. Torwin couldn't help but notice his father seemed happy, as if a unspoken burden had been lifted. He remembered the days when he was a young boy, and wondered if perhaps the cloud over his father had passed over the horizon.

In the Spring of 2954, the great feast was held at Edoras. There are but few things that Torwin can remember from this time, before he knew that the curse still followed him.

Due to his size, strength, and youth, Torwin won the hammer-toss. The best throwers stood before a crowd, as others had who won games, and were given prizes. The judge placed a cord around his neck upon which was strung a small figure carved of gold in the likeness of a royal horse--mearasgifu--and whispered that he could sell it, for it was worth even a steda, but if he were to instead bring it to Meduseld, he would be granted entry. There he could return the prize to the Reeve for an audience with the King, and have a chance to ask a boon of him. In the happiness of this victory Torwin looked to his father, who smiled and was himself inspired, and entered the contest of trial by personal combat.

Though the games involving horsemanship were the most rewarding, the personal combat tournament, which determined the man and shieldmaiden of greatest prowess in Rohan,was perhaps the most popular of the games. For the winner would be made a Captain, and in this Ealdred saw his hopes restored. Though Ealdred was a veteran warrior, he was old, and many expected him to tire before the younger, stronger men. But whether it was the wisdom of experience and or the black sword he wielded, Ealdred seemed to be unstoppable. Many opponents were defeated, and he advanced to the second to last round. But in this bout the black blade betrayed him, and when he might have made a winning hit upon his enemy's breast, the blade instead pierced a great opening in the chain and drew forth blood. Though declared the winner, the judge disqualified the weapon, for it was deemed fell and dangerous.

In the final round, though Ealdred had been given a replacement sword, he was determined to make up for the lack of his favored weapon, and fought with passion and anger, for he feared the spilled blood had been an omen, and that the curse was still alive. His fear was not unfounded, for again there was an accident and Ealdred was killed.

Now Torwin was too grieved over his father to worry that the curse might continue; for now he was an orphan and had young sisters to care for. The rest of the festival was a blur, as distant relations cared for him and for the girls, and his father was buried in a mound in an area reserved for captains of the Mark. At the end of the festival, his Aunt and Uncle invited him and his sisters to remain with them Edoras. Torwin gratefully on his sisters' behalf (who were not yet of age), but declined for himself, saying that he had duties to attend to in Harrowdale. Though there was little awaiting him in Dunharrow, he was a stranger in Edoras and in truth he believed it would ever be a place of sorrow for him.

The last night of the festival Torwin prepared to depart, thanking his relatives and bidding his sisters goodbye. The journey to Dunharrow was not far, and he determined to leave that night, for in the morning most of the people would depart to return to their homes across Rohan, and the roads would be full.

As the moon rose above the White Mountain in the distance, Torwin saddled his father's horse and took the south Road. Less than a mile past the city gate he came to a bend in the road, with mounds on his right and a small stream on his left. Suddenly his horse tripped, for though the moon had lit the road to safely travel, he could not see the rope stretched across to trap unwary (or foolish) travelers. Torwin flew forward headlong, and spun, landing on his back in the grass on the side of the road. Winded, he did not feel much more than bruises, but was disoriented. He slowly stood and saw his father's horse lying the road breathing heavily, but otherwise not moving. Had he inspected it he would have seen a broken ulna--serious but the horse could live--but he would not have detected in the dark that the withers too was broken, and that the horse would never rise again.

Instead, three men armed with club and spears materialized from the darkness behind the mound. The leader was a thin man, whose long face shone in the moonlight, and he grinned evilly, "Give us the trinket and the sword, and all else you possess of value, and we'll let you live." Torwin said nothing and reached for his father's sword. But the black steel seemed to refuse its new owner, and would not unsheathe. Thus did the bandits set upon him, and beat him senseless, and take all that he possessed save the clothes on his back. They left him to die in the road, but the black sword they too could not steal, for though they tried mightily to unsheathe it, and even to remove his belt, it would not move.

Between the anger and shock, the one thought that Torwin held onto was that his father's curse had found and caught him, and that it had taken the prize that he'd won, and his father's great horse, and would soon take his life. But he vowed that if he lived, he would spend his days bringing an end to the curse, and vengeance upon his foes.
The next day he was found on the road and brought to his Aunt and Uncle. After a month of recovery he was strong again and purposed to leave his relatives, though they greatly implored him to remain. But his personal oath drove him, and for two years he traveled throughout Rohan, learning all he could about undoing a curse, seeking out herb masters, soothsayers, scholars, and the old.

And how he ever discovered the secret, and came to undo it, Torwin told none. But none knew of the change, except perhaps some perceived that he no longer carried the black sword at his side. Yet something had indeed changed, for he came to serve under Hereward, Lord of Harrowdale as his father had. And when the captain of his company was killed by an Orc-arrow as they defended against a raid in the East, Torwin was made captain. And when his Uncle retired from riding, Torwin inherited a fine, young radhors, with a coat of blue-black, whom he named Remn, meaning Raven. Thus, ever did Torwin's fortune follow him as had the curse, and though he was called blessed by his friends, a shadow loomed on his heart.

Then on a summer night in 2957, Torwin left Dunharrow with his company to patrol the wilds and foothills of the White Mountains from Harrowdale all the way to Aldburg, and it chanced at dusk that their scout spotted a rope across the path. Thus the company ambushed the bandits, and bound them, and their leader wore a mearasgifu round his neck. When Torwin saw the man his anger burned, for it was the same bandit, and he declared, "We are sent by the arm of the King to make safe the ways of the hills and vales, and therefore we bring his judgment. The law condemns bandits, traitors, and our sworn enemies to death. You have harried the paths of Rohan overlong, and now your time is at an end."

When the bandits had been buried, Torwin took his old prize and placed it around his neck once again. He knew his fate indeed had turned and he dared to hope for his future, but like the long shadows which tarry in the foothills, a cloud of doubt still remained.

Beginning that night and for weeks after, the dreams began. At first they were inscrutable, but in time they grew as clear to him as the water of high tarns. He saw people and faces with more clarity, and the people began to reappear. Some nights the dreams turned to nightmares: perhaps he struggled to escape a building put to the torch, or to reach the shore against a strong current at night; but most often found himself fighting alongside the people in a hopeless battle. The walls of the city were breached and one by one they were overwhelmed by an enemy with blue faces and red eyes.

One of the recurring people in his dreams stood out to him; a man of noble bearing, whose face he thought he should remember but could not. Then one night a circle of light rose above the man's head and spun twelve times, then three twelfths of one time, and a breach was made in the circle, and the breach of darkness was on the western side. And when Torwin looked down, the King was gone, and the golden circle, still broken, rested upon the head of the King of the blue-faced enemy.

In the morning when Torwin awoke, he felt the dream had been a sign, a warning, and not knowing where else to go, turned his men to Edoras. Though he had not been to that city for more than four years, his sense of urgency drove him past the sorrowful memories and to the gate of Meduseld. Showing the mearasgifu to the Doorwarden, Torwin was let in, while the men and horses were seen to, and in the hall the Reeve met him and asked, "Would you trade your gift for an audience with the King?"

"I would," he replied, and removed it from round his neck and handed it to the Reeve.

He was served food and wine, and in an hour he was brought before the King, who asked what he wished. He replied, "To tell you my dream; I know not whether what I have seen is mere nightmare or whether it is indeed a timely warning." Thus Torwin shared the dream, and when he finished Thengel sat back on his throne long in thought.

"When men seek an audience with me in exchange for the mearasgifu, they think only of their reward. You have come instead because you were concerned with the fate of the Mark. You knew that dreams that others tell are hard to believe, and thus you used the prize you earned to gain my listening ear. I will take this sign as a warning. Thus I will equip you, and you will take your men to scout in the West, and you yourself will see what truth there is in the vision you had. I don't expect you to return quickly; scout the lands thoroughly as far as Tunum, then return and report to me."

Torwin bowed low at these words and the honor the King had showed, and was dismissed.

In the following days he and the men who joined him were provisioned and saddled, and departed for the Gap of Rohan, the Isen, and even as far as the lands of the Dunlendings. After a month of travel, they began to hear rumors of a man named Brenin, presumably a Dunlending, who called himself a King, and had stirred up a following West of the Isen. After much time and many fields had passed by, they returned to Edoras, and brought report to the King. Such uprisings among the Dunlendings were almost common, and though the confirmation of his dream did not make Torwin a soothsayer, it raised the King's confidence in him.

"What would you ask of me, Torwin, son of Ealdred?" said Thengel.

"Only to return to Harrowdale. For Edoras is ever a place of sorrow for me, and Dunharrow my home."

Thengel considered quietly, then looking him the eye replied, "Good. I will send you with my recommendation to Hereward. But know that I may call upon you again to my service, should I need it."

Thus did Torwin return to his home, and served as a leader of a small company of Hereward's men for three years, until the present day, when this story begins, and he was called back again to Edoras.
Ealdred, Torwin's father, falls from favor under King Fengel, who sends him to undertake a mission in the Paths of the Dead. His wife is lost, but he escapes with his life. A curse follows him, and he and his family remain in Dunharrow in exile.

Torwin grows up in exile, at eighteen joins his father at a festival celebrating the start of Thengel's reign. Torwin wins a hammer-throw contest, but his father is accidentally killed in the personal combat trials. Torwin returns to Dunharrow and mysteriously finds a way to end the curse his father had awoken and that had begun to pursue him. Now it seems he is blessed, but strange circumstances still seem to follow him at times. He begins to have dreams of invasion that include King Thengel, and eventually is able to share these with the King. This wins him favor, and he returns to Dunharrow to serve under Hereward, Lord of Harrowdale, until the day Thengel calls for him to return to Edoras.
Last edited by Blubbo_Baggins on Wed Aug 08, 2018 11:00 pm, edited 11 times in total.

User avatar
Othniel
Level 12
Level 12
Posts: 1545
User Class: Wanderer

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Othniel » Thu Jun 14, 2018 6:32 pm

Istril, Woman of Gondor

Player Name: Othniel
Character Name: Istril
Race (Subrace): Human (Man of Minas Tirith)
Gender: Female
Ht, Wt, Eyes, Hair: 5’9”, 140 lbs, grey eyes, dark auburn hair color.
Calling: Scholar
Background: Master of Healing

Description:

Physically, Istril is a typical representative of her people: Tall and lissome with dark hair (albeit a rarer shade of red), grey eyes, and a proud face. Istril’s skin is a sun-kissed tan, though she would still be considered fair when compared with Gondor’s neighbors. Her movements are quick but graceful, and when at rest (which is seldom) she seems tensed as a spring. Her scent carries the fragrance of a multitude of flowers and herbs mixed with the faint smells of several solution and poultice ingredients.

Istril differs from her people only in that she is far less grave than the Men of Minas Tirith and its lands are expected to be. Perhaps this comes from living in Pelargir, or from her years spent accompanying her father in his vessel, but Istril is a cheerful woman with near-boundless, infectious energy. Istril also has a particular knack for judging the character of those with whom she speaks. She intently watches the eyes of those speaking to gauge their motives.

She wears a leather corslet and carries a bow, longsword, and dagger; and while proficient with each, she has yet to use any of her implements of war for that purpose. Her bow alone she has used to slay the occasional dangerous beast.


History:

Istril was always a willful child, and that didn’t change as she grew. Born to Nestedir and Idhressel in the Gondorian city of Pelargir, Istril was raised in prosperity. The only daughter of a wealthy merchant, Istril wanted for nothing. Nothing, that is, save escape from a life planned without her approval.

Nestedir, her father, made his way a trader who traveled the ports of Gondor, buying and selling as he went and making quite a successful living at it. Now in his middle years, Nestedir is the owner of a small fleet of trading vessels, and prefers to remain at home in Pelargir where he sees to the running of his business. His wife, Idhressel, grew up the daughter of a weaver who sold cloth to Nestedir which he would then transport and sell again for a tidy profit. Familiarity blossomed into love, and shortly after the two were married, Istril was born.

Her father likes to say that as soon as she could walk, she would run, and Istril quickly grew into a vivacious young woman. She spent most of her time out-of-doors, and her mother early on abandoned hope of teaching her to weave. Istril preferred the woods and the fields far too much for that, and she spent more time in the company of young lads her age than young lasses. As she grew into an adult, her father nurtured her spirit of adventure, and allowed her to join him on his trading journeys throughout Gondor. After Nestedir’s business grew great enough, he retired from voyaging himself and hired others to do so for him while he stayed in Pelargir and handled larger trade deals. This left Istril seeking a purpose, and her mother suggested she apprentice to a healer. Idhressel felt a challenging vocation such as that would occupy her daughter’s active mind, and Istril had shown herself to have a keen eye and a steady hand.

Istril found success, though she was often scolded by her teacher, an aging woman named Maerwen who had moved to Pelargir from Lossarnach. Mistress Maerwen saw in Istril the potential to be a great healer, for the girl had an eye for the right herbs and could remember treatments for specific ailments after little practice. Maerwen taught her everything she knew, for the women of Lossarnach kept many rhymes of herb- and healing-lore that they passed on to their apprentices. One note of importance did Maerwen impress upon Istril: There is no replacement for the trained eye and a careful hand when seeking a healing herb, and she recommended that Istril learn to seek out these herbs herself in the wild.

She was, of course, was delighted at the prospect of traveling field and forest, although Istril’s parents were less so (they were, however, resigned to it by this point). Her father commissioned a set of gear suitable to the now-grown woman and required her to split her time between learning the art of healing and the art of defense, should she ever need the latter.

Istril has kept at her training and studies, though recently her life took a dramatic turn. Thengel, the heir to the throne of Rohan had been living in Lossarnach with his wife, Morwen, and one of his people happened to be traveling in Pelargir when he suffered a grievous injury. Maerwen was visiting relatives in Lossarnach (her cousin Morwen, in fact), which left Istril to tend to the injured man. Combining all that Maerwen had taught her with her own natural skill, Istril was able to save the man’s life, earning the gratitude of both patient and his master, Thengel.

When Thengel returned with his family to Rohan to take the throne, he issued an invitation to both Maerwen and Istril: Come and enjoy the hospitality of the king’s hall and exchange lore of healing and herbs with the lore-masters of Rohan. Maerwen by now considered herself too old to travel, and she was busy minding new apprentices, but she urged Istril to take the offer. Her parents, too, urged her to go and experience what the land of Gondor’s closest ally had to offer. Besides, her father suggested, perhaps it would take one of the Horselords to tame her heart.


Quirks or Behaviours:

When Istril lays her piercing gaze on others to search their expressions for their motives, such keen glances can alarm others. She has learned this, and attempts to guard herself against simple staring, but that does not always work the way she wishes.

In addition to a store of healing supplies, Istril also carries a copy of her teacher’s book on herb- and healing-lore, which she frequently adds notes to when the occasion presents itself. This is almost certainly the only time she remains quiet and still (save when asleep).

Istril is energetic, but this also gives her several neurotic tics: she has a tendency to chew her lip when thinking, and she often fidgets with her auburn tresses. In addition, she often mutters the rhymes of lore that she knows while trying to remember something as if it were a method to provoke mental recall.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/ ... 1510142986
Image

Hamarr
Level 3
Level 3
Posts: 159
User Class: Slayer

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Hamarr » Thu Jun 14, 2018 9:07 pm

Théofred
Culture: Rider of Rohan
Calling: Slayer
Background: Fey and Dangerous
Shadow Weakness: Lure of Vengeance
Distinctive Features: Fierce, Reckless
Specialties: Horsemanship, Beast-Lore, Wolf-Lore
Character Sheet
Théofred
Arfeax
The Horse and the Rider

Background:

Théofred son of Folcred was born in a small homestead in the region of Rohan known as The Wold. He grew up hunting, and protecting the few small settlements. Born in the year of 2935 the reign of King Fengel did not touch The Wold in the same way as the rest of Rohan. He lived largley a care free life, and growing into his adult years came into his own as a guard for many of the merchants who traded outside of Rohan's borders. He would often accompany merchants North to a small village of Men in the Vales of the Great River called the Toft. The village was filled with men of a foul bent, and there was such a time where he had to fight off groups of bandits. On his 18th birthday he was offcially allowed to ride North leading his own company of guards, while his father would stay behind. He was given his Grandfather's Helm, a family heirloom that had been in the family for generations. Dating back to when the first of the Erolingas rode South to aid Gondor. A Golden Helm with the markings of one of the Meras on it. And the long black tail of a Great Steed of the North flowing from it. The last gift was to take his pick of his father's Riding Horses, his favorite was the Mare Arfeax a Chestnut horse with a white nose. It was on this trip north where he gained renown in Rohan, having led the the band of guards against a group of Bandits who assailed their caravan. The Leofrings as they were called. It was on this trip that a pack of wild wargs came down from the mountains, and raided his father's homestead. His mother and sister Frida and Frideswyn were badly wounded, but they survived. His father and older brother though were killed defending them. To this day he is torn, wishing he had stayed behind at the farmsted, and perhaps his father and brother would still be alive. But now he is the heir to his Father's homestead, and with a new Kind crowned he travels south to Edoras and the Hall of Meduseld to swear his oaths of loyalty to him.
Last edited by Hamarr on Fri Jun 15, 2018 6:17 am, edited 2 times in total.

User avatar
Taraborn
Level 2
Level 2
Posts: 25
User Class: Mercenary Soldier

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Taraborn » Thu Jun 14, 2018 10:47 pm

Ceorgrim

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/ ... edit#gid=0

Ceorgrim was born and raised in a small homestead near Grimslade, and his mother Alfwine died a few years later giving birth to his younger brother Dernwine. His father, Grimhelm was a hunter for the homestead, and had many times taken up arms to raid Dunland during the reign of King Fengel, fighting with spear and shield. Both sons were raised to become hunters as well one day, and would often roam the plains near their villages in search of game. Dernwine was always the more talented with the bow, whereas Ceorgrim had always found the spear a more natural weapon to use.

During his eighteenth year, Ceorgrim suffered an injury during a hunt, breaking his leg and being carried back by his father and brother. He spent a time bed-ridden, and his father and brother went hunting without him. One day, they travelled out towards the West and never returned. Days passed until at last their bodies were found by men of the homestead, alongside clear marks of a Dunlending raid. With plenty of time barely able to leave his own bed, and then his home, Ceorgrim had a lot of time to stew, his temperament becoming more and more foul until at last he had recovered enough to leave. Taking up his fathers armour and weapons he departed from his homestead to travel the wilds to protect travellers from harm so no other family could be left like his.

In his twentieth year, he is roaming the area of Harrowdale, tracking brigands through the woods until he came upon them besetting a merchant on his way to Edoras. Fighting off the two criminals, Ceorgrim slew one and routed the other and let the merchant convince him to come with him to Edoras to protect him the rest of the way. On their arrival, the merchant tells the tale to many until it reaches the ears of King Thengel, who summons Ceorgrim to Meduseld to thank him.
Last edited by Taraborn on Fri Jun 15, 2018 6:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
geomtje
Level 2
Level 2
Posts: 57
Location: Netherlands
User Class: Warden

Re: The Fellowship

Post by geomtje » Fri Jun 15, 2018 2:10 pm

Éodir, son of Éodas

Éodir, son of Éodas is an eager, but unexperienced young lad who tries to follow in the footsteps of his well acclaimed father. Focused on earning the respect of his father; Éodir feels that he has a lot to learn to make his father proud.

He tries his best to do what he feels is right and what is expected of him. This often leads to Éodir being too focused on achieving his goal and failing to see the bigger picture.

Éodir has a close bond with Brédor, his horse, whom has been born in the same year. He is a white hoofed Chestnut brown horse who wears a white star on its head and is only ever really at ease when being together with Éodir. Éodir often finds comfort in Brédor, when he feels that he has not lived up to his father reputation; making them almost inseparable.

Character Sheet
J.J.R. Tolkien wrote:...so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

User avatar
Vardaen
Admin
Admin
Posts: 66394
Location: Miskatonic University
Title: Great Old One
User Class: Unshackled AI

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Vardaen » Mon Jul 23, 2018 4:20 pm

Hereweald, Son of Heard

Culture: Rider of Rohan
Calling: Wanderer
Background: The Greatest Hunter
Shadow Weakness: Wandering-madness
Traits: Reckless, True-hearted
Specialties: Horsemanship, Beast-lore, Folk-lore
Character Sheet:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/ ... sp=sharing

Backstory:
Hereweald was raised with a love of tales, and those tales inspired wander lust in him. He has traveled across Rohan into many places where other men have not for the joy of seeing the wild places. He's taken to hunting to both survive and to earn himself a living for those things he could not make himself. His family lives in the Westfold still, father (Hefric) and mother (Estrun), some siblings and plenty of cousins. He rarely travels home, not because of some dramatic history, but simply out of practicality, its normally far afield.

Last year a well known horse breeder and trainer, Dudda the Wise, was working with a herd of horses in the north of Rohan, close to Fangorn, when he was taken aware by a great board known as the Boar of Leavesholt. The man was mortally wounded, and gave into his injuries, but not before Hereweald was told of the troubles. Luck would have it that Hereweald was able to track and kill the great beast, sending its tusks to Dudda's family as wereguild for the poor man's death. News of that act must have reached the king, for eventually Hereweald was found, and summoned to Edoras. Now he must explore that city, a sort of wild that he's never done much exploring in.
Image
"He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom." - Gandalf
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring

User avatar
Vardaen
Admin
Admin
Posts: 66394
Location: Miskatonic University
Title: Great Old One
User Class: Unshackled AI

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Vardaen » Fri Oct 05, 2018 7:06 pm

Map Icons
Image Image
Image Image
Image Image
"He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom." - Gandalf
J.R.R. Tolkien, Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring

User avatar
Wbweather
Level 13 Elite
Level 13 Elite
Posts: 2085
Location: Kansas
User Class: Wanderer

Re: The Fellowship

Post by Wbweather » Fri Oct 05, 2018 7:35 pm

Nice!

Post Reply