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Fellowship Of Forodwaith - LotR Group RP character profiles


.:The Vampiric Fae:.
Jan 26, 2010
Why do you care?

Please submit (this means PM) all templates to either darkangel76 or Karameida for approval before posting them, thanks. NOTE: approval is to ensure consistency of RP, that we stay canon to Tolkien's universe (we will basing our RP off the movies and the following books--The Hobbit and the trilogy) and to help maintain an overall tone since we will be using headers for our characters when we post for them. :)

Also, please. ONLY POST PROFILES IN THIS THREAD. All questions, etc. should be placed in the interest thread until we've gathered enough RPers to open an OOC thread. Thank you.

[b][i]The Basics ~[/i][/b]

[b]Nickname:[/b] (if any)
[b]Birth Location:[/b] (Country, Town, etc.)
[b]Race:[/b] (elf, human, dwarf, etc.)
[b]Class:[/b] (ranger, healer, priest, fighter, etc.)

[b][i]Appearance ~[/i][/b]

[b]Hair Color:[/b]
[b]Eye Color:[/b]
[b]Basic Physical Description:[/b]
[b]Other Features:[/b] (includes scars, birthmarks, etc)
[b]Visual Representation:[/b] (pictures should be approximately 150h x 100w pixels; real people images only*)

[b][i]Background ~[/i][/b]

[b]Personality:[/b] (list 5 - 10 words that describe your character)
[b]History:[/b] (How and where did your character grow up? What was their childhood like? Did anything notable occur in their lives?)
[b]Family:[/b] (provide information regarding parents, siblings or any other pertinent relatives; may include a mini bio on them if needed)
[b]Likes:[/b] (of the nonsexual kind)
[b]Dislikes:[/b] (of the nonsexual kind)
[b]Fears:[/b] (list at least 2)
[b]Best Memory(ies):[/b]
[b]Worst Memory(ies):[/b]
[b]Favorite Color(s):[/b]
[b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] (straight, bi, same sex oriented, other; submissive vs dominant vs switch vs vanilla; very experienced all the way to virgin)

*If unable to find 'real people' images (it is understood that in certain instances, a 'real person' might not be applicable), please find as close to real as possible. Life-like digital art is definitely acceptable. No anime please. Thank you.


.:The Vampiric Fae:.
Jan 26, 2010
Why do you care?
The Basics ~

Name: Maranwe Winterborne (pronounced mar-ahn-way, she occasionally uses the surname due to having been born during the winter season).
Nickname: Maran.
Gender: Female.
Birthday/Age: 500 (appears to be 21).
Birth Location: Rivendell, Eriador, Middle-Earth.
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Class: Healer.

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Snowy white.
Eye Color: Purple-gray.
Weight: 120lbs.
Height: 5'5".
Basic Physical Description: Medium height, slender, hourglass shape, B-cup breasts, pale skin.
Other Features: Nothing distinguishing.
Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality: Soft-spoken, shy, kind, caring, craves touch and affection, loyal.

History: Maran was born in Rivendell, the only daughter to Sabriel and Celedwin and the younger sister to her brother Orrin--all of whom died on the way to Forodwaith. Her childhood had been filled with love and laughter seeing as she'd been not only surrounded by her family, but by others of her kind and all within the safety of Rivendell and thus Elrond's care and keeping. She wanted for nothing and spent much time learning how to sing and play the harp. Music always brought her much joy and peace, but somehow she knew her life served a greater purpose.

During Maran's early adolescence, she and her brother were out frolicking about the woods and happened upon a wounded deer. It was in that moment that she knew her true calling as that of the healing arts. After the deer was tended to, she made it a point to apprentice with other elven healers in Rivendell. Her skill showed much promise and made her family quite proud seeing her able to share such skills as well as finally be happy.

Many years later, Maran's family then received word that trouble befell their kin living in Ered Luin of Lindon. Several had become 'poisoned' by a black magic they did not understand, but could only surmise to be the works of evil. The corruption of the 'mortal men' who bore their rings was on the rise, their leader seeming to gain power as he bled the northern lands dry with fear. Several of her kin fled Lindon and began their migration to the Undying Lands on the gray ships while some headed further north into Forodwaith to give aid. Those who traveled north either died or became 'poisoned'.

When this word reached Maran's family, they reacted swiftly wanting to share her talents of healing in hopes to help and assist. Little did they know that their journey to the north would lead to many more deaths--including their own--leaving Maran alone and unprotected in a wild land so very far from home and more than worried about the 'poison' that seemed to be spreading amongst her people, causing them to leave Middle-Earth forever.

Family: She is the only daughter of Sabriel (mother) and Celedwin (father). She also has an older brother, Orrin. All are deceased, slain by the minions of the Witch King of Angmar.
Likes: Singing, gazing out at the water, gazing up at the stars.
Dislikes: Loud noises, large crowds, excessive violence.
Fears: Being alone forever, never finding her true purpose in life.
Best Memory(ies): When she and Orrin had been out frolicking in the woods and happened upon a wounded deer. Using her innate elven magic, she was able to heal the animal, giving it the precious minutes it needed to save it before bringing it back to Rivendell for proper care.
Worst Memory(ies): When she and her family left Rivendell and headed north past the realms of Arnor into Forodwaith. Along the way, her parents and brother were slain in a melee when a group of ruthless minions sent by the Witch King himself found them. They'd been in their way on their travels to Forodwaith and thus attacked without hesitation. Her parents and brother fought valiantly while she was told to hide and then seek sanctuary in Forochel--their final destination--when the skirmish finally settled. But, in the end, no one from her family except herself had lived and now she grieves for family, feeling so alone without them.
Favorite Color(s): Blue and purple.
Sexual Orientation: Very submissive, straight, has very little experience.


.:The Vampiric Fae:.
Jan 26, 2010
Why do you care?
The Basics ~

Name: Brynne (pronounced brin) daughter of Bastian son of Balthazar.
Nickname: None.
Gender: Female.
Birthday/Age: 22.
Birth Location: Dale, Middle-Earth.
Race: Human.
Class: Nobility (excellent seamstress), no specific 'class'.

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Dark brown.
Eye Color: Brown.
Weight: 115lbs.
Height: 5'0".
Basic Physical Description: Shorter in height, slender, hourglass shape, B-cup breasts, pale skin.
Other Features: Has a tiny cafe-au-lait birthmark in the shape of an upside down lopsided heart located on her inner left thigh.
Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality: Emotional, impulsive, feisty, somewhat attention seeking, craves touch and affection from those who've earned her trust and loyalty, fiercely loyal.

History: Brynne was born in the city of Dale to Bastian and Lilias. She was their only child and though they bore no sons, they never showed any signs of sadness or regret in that fact, thus loving their daughter deeply and doting on her as much as they were able. Her childhood was filled of fond memories spent with her parents, her most memorable being those when they'd stroll the vast gardens of their home. Due to their wealth, they had many gardens. Some were so elaborate that they were like labyrinths, a place where one could easily get lost if they did not pay attention or know the way.

As Brynne grew, due to being doted upon, she developed a taste and eye for all things artistic and beautiful. However, she was also a believer that beauty was in the eye of the beholder and that one shouldn't judge a book by its cover for hidden within the pages one could truly find secret treasures if one dared to search deeper between the lines. That said, she did grow to have a fondness for clothing and fabrics--eventually learning how to sew dresses despite it being considered a task for the lower class--along with an appreciation for storytelling and music.

One fateful night while sleeping, Brynne's home was invaded by a rogue group of wildmen who'd somehow managed to penetrate the city's walls. Her family had been totally taken off guard by the sudden attack and did their best to raise alarm to all of Dale. Fortunately, her family managed to get away to safety, however Brynne was whisked away by a few of the wildmen and taken hostage. Unsure of why she'd been taken other than it had been an attempt to exert authority and induce fear on Dale that they were no longer as safe as they thought they were, she wasn't quite sure of the political reasons behind such a move.

The wildmen bound Brynne and kept her tied to a horse as they began to trek north toward a fate unknown. The journey seemed endless as the air became colder, but eventually, the group holding her hostage was ambushed by a group of Lossoth hunters up near Forodwaith. Concerned for her health and the fact that she was a woman, she was taken in by them and given a place to stay at the Inn of the Snowy Eagle in Pynti-Peldot where she was allowed to stay indefinitely. In return, she mended and made clothes for the Lossoth. Despite the fact that she is safe in Forochel, she longs to one day return to Dale and perhaps reunite with her family assuming they survived the attack of the wildmen.

Family: She is the only daughter to Bastian (who married to Lilias) son of Balthazar. Her family was one of wealth and nobility in the city of Dale.
Likes: Getting her hair brushed (either by herself or another), listening to stories/ballads, pretty clothes, flowers.
Dislikes: Being ignored, overly dark places, arrogant people.
Fears: Never returning back home to Dale, never finding true happiness.
Best Memory(ies): Strolling through the gardens of her home back in Dale.
Worst Memory(ies): Being kidnapped from her family in Dale.
Favorite Color(s): Red and white.
Sexual Orientation: Very submissive, straight, has very little experience.


Sometimes a Dream, Sometimes a Nightmare
Staff member
Jun 15, 2011
Fellowship Of Forodwaith - Vaemyr

The Basics ~

Name: Vaemyr
Nickname: Vae
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Birth Location: Dale, Middle Earth
Race: Human
Class: Warrior

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Light Brown
Eye Color: Dark brown flecked with gold
Weight: 185 pounds
Height: 5'9
Basic Physical Description: Tall, well defined muscles, browned skin and broad shoulders.
Other Features: Has a scar that runs along his back
Visual Representation: Vaemyr

Background ~

Personality: Gruff, Stubborn, Sarcastic, Unflappable and Devious [At times]

History: Vaemyr grew up in the city of Dale with his mother, a Noblewoman by birth and his father, a blacksmith by trade. Acaelia was a kindhearted woman who'd always been strong willed and always did what she had thought would have been best. She'd been a woman of great beauty and great passions. She loved to read and had hungrily devoured any and all books that she could get her hands on and thus came to be a woman of much knowledge. Gybyrn had been a strong man with a hearty laugh and an easy going temperament. He'd spent a good deal of time traveling abroad but had eventually returned to his roots in Dale. There he and Acaelia were wed. It was a love match and born from it was Vaemyr.

Vaemyr had his mothers inquisitive mind and his fathers physical strength and sense of humor. Between the two of them they had raised Vaemyr to be an intelligent, well read boy. He was taught how to properly wield a blade but also taught that one resorted only to violence as a last resort. It was a happy life filled with much love and joy.

But half-way through his fifteenth year the joy he'd known had suddenly been robbed from him. He and his father received news that Acaelia had been killed. While she had been out riding by the river as was her custom a group of Orcs attacked and slaughtered her. Filled with grief at the loss Vaemyr's father isolated himself and drank himself numb. Vaemyr himself swore vengeance. He went off and trained himself, honing his body and the skills that he'd been taught. Three years later when he was eighteen he received word that his father had finally died. With nothing left binding him to Dale, he set off southward towards Gondor. In his travels he came across a party of men under attack by a horde of Orcs. Without hesitation he lent support to the men. With his help the group managed to gain the upper-hand and defeat the small horde. Grateful for his help, the small band of soldiers asked him to accompany them back to Gondor to properly reward him.

He wanted to decline but common sense over-rode his fiery need for Vengeance. He knew he would not get far without money and he knew that the experience could prove beneficial to him. He reigned in his overwhelming desire to kill and agreed to accompany them.

Once in Gondor he was offered a place inside their military but he declined. He however told them that should they ever go after any Orc's that he would gladly join up with the squad and help them. It was agreed. He was a for-hire-warrior. He was not one of their own so sending him into battle against the Orcs meant less of their own men were in danger. For nearly a decade he worked with Gondor's military, driving back the Orcs time and time again. He came to be known as "The Hellhound of Gondor". He'd gained a formidable reputation and quite a bit of money. Shortly after turning twenty-six he left Gondor and returned to his home, Dale. For a year he spent his time locked away, contemplating his life. He'd killed a great many Orcs but no matter how many fell to his blade it never assuaged the anguish and rage that burned like a wildfire just beneath the calm veneer he presented to the world.

In that year he faced the feelings that he'd kept locked away behind a barricade of ice. Guilt. Guilt that he was just as responsible as the Orcs for his parents death. He laid his feelings to rest and for the first time in a long time the anguished rage that had burned so hotly inside of him for so long, finally quieted down. He emerged from his seclusion and took up a post as a guard to the Nobleman Bastian son of Balthazar. In his service to the family he'd happened upon the couples daughter, Brynne, sewing in the gardens. He deeply admired the beautiful work she'd done and had asked her if she would mind making him a tunic of gold and white, as well as sew in an emblem on his cloak. The emblem was the emblem of the Noble family his mother was descended from. She had agreed.

He stayed on in the post until he turned thirty. With sufficient funds he once more bid Dale farewell. He traveled around for a time, helping those that required help and guarding those that needed guarding. He came to know a calm that had eluded him for the majority of his life. One day while in a town far to the north he heard rumors of Forodwaith. A place said to have been cursed by Sauron's right hand, The lord of the Nazgul. He knew that if any place needed his help it was Forodwaith. Without delay he trekked for the frozen wastelands of Forodwaith, heading for a town called Pynti-Peldot.

Mother :: Acaelia - Deceased
Father :: Gybryn - Deceased
Likes: Battle, Sleeping, Women [He can appreciate women in a non-sexual way too?], Teasing, Joking and Eating.
Dislikes: Burying fallen comrades, Losing, Being Woken up early, Prigs and uptight personalities and Orcs.
Fears: Spiders and Deep water
Best Memory(ies): Riding out with his parents when he was just a young lad and stopping in a field to enjoy lunch. It was one of the last he spent with his mother.
Worst Memory(ies): Receiving news of his mothers murder. Later receiving news of his fathers Death.
Favorite Color(s): Blacks, Reds, Blues and Greens
Sexual Orientation: Straight / Dominant / Decently Experienced


Nov 1, 2012
Boone, NC
The Basics ~

Name: Celeste
Nickname: -
Gender: Female
Birthday/Age: Third Age 2793/225 years old
Birth Location: Eriador
Race: Elf
Class: Scout/Ranger

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Light brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Weight: 105 lbs.
Height: 5'0"
Basic Physical Description: Pale-skinned, typical height/weight proportion [for her race], C-cup breasts,
Other Features: Tribal tattoo right above her breasts (This symbolizes her royal heritage like how humans often use a crown), has a charasmatic feel to her despite her appearance, slender
Visual Representation: Celeste

Background ~

Personality: Feminist, determined, stubborn, compassionate, caring, devoted, loyal
History: Born and raised in Eriador, her true heritage was hidden from her. She wasn't just another elf. Celeste was connected to a royal heritage, thus effectively making her a princess. Because of this, her parents along with some selected elves worked on training her vigorously in the more typical fields that elven women often knew; leadership skills, hunting, helping enhance her senses, even a bit of magic. But the constant lessons made her weary and annoyed, even without realizing the true motive behind everything. Celeste wanted an outlet, something to help her get away from the traditions and stress of her everday routines.

For what seemed like forever though, she failed to find it. Celeste had been ready to accept her fate until a new ray of hope was found. Many of the other higher ranked elves had agreed they were becoming anxious of the curse and were becoming impatient about it ending. With the possibility of magic being involved, they gathered an array of mages, scouts, and even some clerics to better investigate exactly the source and hopefully a way to end it all sooner if not later.

Waiting for the perfect moment, which consisted of attention being off of her and purposely waiting for her parents to be out of immediate sight, Celeste darted off, taking her bow, quiver, and the clothes on herself with her. It was reckless, she knew. But the elf also understood remaining within Angmar and sticking to the daily routines wouldn't do her any good. She wouldn't be able to aid her kin or hometown out in any possible manner. It pained her to leave her parents and home as abruptly as she'd done, but it was clear they wanted aid. And she'd be more than willing to do just that -- but knew her parents would never approve.

So, she took initiative and began her own journey. For most of her remaining adolescent and some adult [75-200 years], she remained living in the forests around some of the more major towns, though she did take a particular liking to the woods close to North Downs and Forochel. She self-taught herself as much as she could, further enhancing her skills that had been taught to her during Celeste's childhood. She realized within time stealth and listening seemed to be some of her better talents and put them to use. It was one of the few things that best helped her survive remaining in the woods and prevented her from dying of starvation or worse, ambushes.

Over the past recent months, she has been residing within Forochel and working as a mercenary and scout for hire. She's effectively made a name for herself while managing to keep her true identity regarding her royal heritage hidden away. During her self-made trials in the woods, Celeste noted that a bow could only do so much and thus bought a dagger, knowing there would be times she'd be forced into melee combat. It was also, she'd realized, easier to use with hunting and skinning animals to better make food. Whilst staying in Forochel, she's also been waiting, realizing it would be foolish to attempt to seek out a solution to the curse alone.

Though the elf hated to admit it .. she would need help. And thus it became obvious the best course of action would be to keep her eyes and ears open, see if any others had the same goal as herself, and ask about teaming up with them. She has been waiting in her 'home' at a local tavern, patiently waiting and hoping her silent prayer will eventually be answered.

Family: Valrayne (Father), Selune (Mother)
Likes: Music, singing, helping others out in any way she can, her parents and kin
Dislikes: Hypocrites, unnecessary fighting and bloodshed, assumptions [especially regarding herself]
Fears: Being buried alive, small spaces
Best Memory(ies): Her first successful solo hunt, completing the journey from Eriador to Forochel, most of anything that can include her parents despite the stress that came with the hectic routines.
Worst Memory(ies): Running away from her parents. While Celeste is glad to have obtained the freedom she desperately desired, she does regret that it meant having to distance herself from her home and parents ... especially before having been told whom she truly was.
Favorite Color(s): Dark shades of reds and blues
Sexual Orientation: Straight, Switch, Complete virgin


Jun 28, 2011
The Basics ~

Name: Mithon son of Thandon
Nickname: Mist, Lachaon (name he went by in the south)
Gender: Male
Birthday/Age: October 9th, TA 2924 (94 years old)
Birth Location: Weather Hills, Eriador, Middle-Earth
Race: Human (Dúnedain)
Class: Ranger

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Steel Grey
Eye Color: Ice Blue
Weight: 224 pounds
Height: 6’4”
Basic Physical Description: Tall, wide shouldered, well muscled
Other Features: Scar running from left cheekbone down to his jaw. A myriad of other scars on his body including five arrow wounds and a cut across his right thigh which was from an axe. There are also dozens of scars on his back from various instruments of torture which were used on him.
Visual Representation: Mithon

Background ~

Personality: Loyal unto death, focused, courageous, humble, ruthless towards his enemies, cunning, kind to those in need.

Mithon was the third child and second son of Thandon and Arodel. Thandon was the second son of Dirhael and Ivorwen, making him an older brother of Gilraen, Aragorn’s mother. In short, Mithon is Aragorn’s cousin. However he did not know either his cousin or their bond for many years.

Mithon was born in one of his people’s camps in the Weather Hills. His father was leading a small band of the Dúnedain to the west, intending for them to winter on the shores of Lake Nenuial where they could supplement their winter stores by fishing from the lake. However they had been forced to stop because of Arodel’s impending delivery. However, once Mithon was born, they were only able to spare a few days for his mother to rest.
His early life was one of constant travel for awhile until Thandon finally founded a haven for his band. Once they had settled down then Mithon’s life became one of routine for quite awhile. His mother, father and some of the others would take turns schooling the children during the winter months while in the summer Mithon would tend to the garden and hunt for small game once he was old enough. When he was around twelve his father began to teach him the basics of using weapons. Mithon proved to be an adept student and quickly took to the use of quite a few different arms that were used by his people.

When he was sixteen it was finally decided that Mithon was old enough to go on his first ranging. Along with his father and one other man, they journeyed toward the North Downs, intending on making sure that no ilk had come out of the mountains further to the east. It was during this ranging that Mithon saw his first combat, but not against goblins, orc or any other such foul creatures. The three rangers had taken the Greenway south, intending on going to Bree in order to gain news at the world at large. It was enroute that they were waylaid by a band of highwaymen. Outnumbered three to one, the Mithon’s father initially tried to talk the men don, but it was for naught. The combat was short, but vicious. Mithon proved his mettle though, slaying two of their foes before the remaining three surrendered to the rangers. The young man had proved his worth and from that day on he was counted amongst the men of the Dúnedain.

For the next eleven years he continued to range, sometimes with other Dúnedain and sometimes alone, depending on the task that had been given to him. He journeyed mostly within the lands of Eriador, but he would occasionally venture to the east, even going as far as the town of Dale. But when he was twenty seven years old he, along with all of the Dúnedain were summoned for a council. Upon his arrival he heard of the reason; their chieftain, Aragorn, had finally come to rejoin them. Ecstatic and very much wanting to meet his cousin Mithon quickly sought him out. The two, being closer to an age, got on rather well and soon enough became friends. They traveled together for a year or so as Aragorn became more accustomed to the ways of their people, but eventually Mithon’s skills were needed elsewhere.

When Mithon was thirty three years of age, his chieftain, Aragorn, informed the Dúnedain at a council that he intended to travel through more of the lands of the west. Many Dúnedain volunteered to go with their chieftain, Mithon amongst them. Aragorn, however, wished to travel in secret and too large a part would attract unwanted attention. Mithon rose to speak, insisting that Aragorn would need at least one man he could know he trusted by his side. Swayed by Mithon’s words Aragorn agreed to take one of the Dúnedain with him and chose Mithon himself for the task. For their journey Aragorn adopted the name Thorongil, while Mithon dubbed himself Lachaon.

And so Mithon and Aragorn journeyed south. First they came to the kingdom of Rohan where they were taken into the service of King Thengel. They served the king loyally for several years, proving their worth in many battles. But war was stirring to the south an Aragorn insisted that they leave to aid Gondor, so they did. Soon enough they found themselves fighting for Gondor, spending some time with the Rangers of Ithilien. They once again both proved their worth and, after more than a decade of service, gained the trust of the captains and others. It was the Prince of Dol Amroth who gave Aragorn command of a squadron of ships and tasked him with harrying the efforts of the Corsairs of Umbar. In turn Aragorn granted Mithon command of one of the ships. Mithon was not the best sailor, but he understood fighting well enough to gain the trust and loyalty of his men.

But even Mithon’s prowess could not win him every battle. One day his ship was set upon by three ships of Umbar. The Gondorians prove to be adept sailors and managed to evade the corsairs for some time before their sails were finally lit by flaming arrows. Mithon and his men put up a valiant fight when they were boarded, but it was not enough. Mithon himself received a blow to the head and was knocked unconscious. When he awoke he found himself on a corsair ship, being taken to Umbar to be sold as a slave, or that would have been his fate had the captain of the ship not faced him in battle before. Knowing that Mithon was a captain, the corsair had him brought onto the deck. The other men were as well and were forced to watch as Mithon was tortured for hours upon hours. He gave them nothing, but the pain was horrific. It continued on like that for him, even when they reached Umbar. The days stretched on and on as the corsair captain took pleasure in tormenting Mithon. There seemed to be no end. But his cousin had not forgotten him. Aragorn, having learned of his cousin’s fate, lead an assault upon Umbar itself. The attack was successful and Aragorn saved Mithon, who was on the edge of death at this point.

Mithon lost much time during this period and really did not come back to his senses and, when he did, he found that he was in the elven realm of Lórien. There he had been tended to by his cousin and several elven healers. Having finally started to recoup from his ordeal, Mithon was on hand when Arwen pledged her hand in marriage to Aragorn on the hill of Cerin Amroth. He was happy for his cousin of course and stayed on for some time longer, but he found himself having a need for lands that were more familiar to him. So in Lórien he and Aragorn parted ways.

He journeyed north for a time on his own. it was during this time that he met Beruna, a woman of the Beornings. Beruna was a woman of large stature, almost of a height with him and a gifted woodsman in her own right. The two quickly became enamored with one another and, before too long, wed. They settled further to the north, near the ruins of Framsburg. It was there that they lived for six years, Mithon finding a happiness in life with Beruna that he had not known in many years. But, sadly, it did not last.

In the winter of their six year of marriage, their home was assailed by goblins riding wargs. The two fought side by side, cutting down many foes, but Beruna’s ankle was caught by a warg and she was dragged away from him. Mithon went mad and launched himself at the enemy with a furry he did not know he possessed, but it was not enough. Beruna was lost to him. He recovered her body and placed it in their bed, then set fire to their home, allowing it to be her pyre. Mithon stood there until the last tendril of smoke rose from the embers.

After his wife’s death, Mithon made his way back west to Eriador. His kin, having thought he was dead, were ecstatic to see him. However it was obvious to many that Mithon had endured a loss some time during his travels, for he was more dour and stern then he had been before. Mithon through himself into the struggles that his people were facing, volunteering time and time again to go out with others or taking on tasks on his own to see that they were done.

So it was that two years ago, at a council called by Aragorn, that Mithon was tasked with protecting the people of Forodwraith. Aragorn acknowledged that it was a task that should be met by a company of rangers or more, but both of them knew that their people’s resources were already stretched thin. Mithon took the assignment without complaint and before the council was over her departed, making his way north. For the past few years he has lived in Forodwraith, usually wintering with the Lossoth who have come to respect him as a skilled warrior. But one warrior will not be enough to stand against the darkness that is coming.

Family: Thandon (Father), Arodel (Mother), Dirhael (Grandfather), Ivorwen (Grandmother), Gilraen (Aunt), Arathorn (Uncle), Aragorn (Cousin)

Mithon carries several different weapons. Some he has had for only a few years, others for decades or more, but each has their own tale about how they came into his possession.

Sigwine was given to Mithon by Erkenbrand, a captain of Rohan. Mithon was granted this blade for his actions during a Dunlending ambush, during which he had saved Erkenbrand's life. The blade itself had been Erkenbrand's own and an heirloom of his house, but out of gratefulness he gave it to Mithon. The sword had been a gift to one of Erkenbrand's forefathers who had been a companion to Folcwine, who had been vital in the reconquest of the West-march. The hilt and pommel of the sword are inscribed with the scenes of the dragon Scatha's death at the hands of Fram, the fifth lord of the Éothéod.

Beruna's Gift was given to him by his wife, Beruna, as a wedding gift. The bow itself is massive, the bowstave standing seven feet in all. The bow itself had been fashioned by one of Beruna's kinsman and was made of yew. It was two finger widths thick at the widest point and tapered down toward either end. The nocks on either end of the bow were fashioned from horn, specifically the horn from a shed that came from a great stag of Mirkwood. There had been three strings that were given to him along with the bow, all of them made from catgut (no, not from cats).

Mithon's hand axe is not only a weapon, but also a tool. His axe has been in his possession for more then a two decades and is of good, but simple make. The axe was crafted by a smith of the Woodsmen of Mirkwood.

Mithon's dagger and knife are both of Dúnedain make. They are both utilitarian in make, with steel blades set into horn handles, which were reinforced with leather (on the dagger), catgut (on the knife) and glue.

Likes: A roof over his head, a fire, song, stories, friends, elves
Dislikes: Braggarts, cold camps, cram, the ilk of Sauron
Fears: Being tortured again, failing in his charge.
Best Memory(ies): Finding his love and wedding her. Traveling with his cousin and friend, Aragorn.
Worst Memory(ies): The loss of his wife. The torture he endured at the hands of the men of Umbar.
Favorite Color(s): Green and silver
Sexual Orientation: Fairly experienced, dominant, straight male.


Jul 15, 2010
Lost in my own mind
The Basics ~

Name: Nairë Pronounced: /ˈnaj.rɛ/
Birthday/Age:400 years old (Appears to be late twenties)
Birth Location:Mirkwood
Race:Silvan Elf

Appearance ~

Hair Color:pale blonde
Eye Color:blue/grey
Weight:136 lbs
Basic Physical Description:Slender with wide hips, tall, very long and tidy blonde hair. Fair complexion, blue grey eyes ringed by thick lashes, full lips, c-cup breasts.
Other Features:A small scar on her left shoulder, made by a poisoned orc spear that was not treated fast enough.
Visual Representation: Naire

Background ~

Personality:Loyal, honest, kind, can be a little distant, abrupt, blunt, patient.
History:Naire grew up happily in the forests of Mirkwood with her family, her parents Mireth (Mother) and Arthon (Father), and her elder brother Beren. During an orc raid Naire was caught unaware and nearly speared, her brother pushed her out of the way and the spear merely grazed her shoulder, before burying itself in her brothers chest. The wound was too great and he died. It took her and her parents a very long time to grieve his loss, but eventually they accepted it and moved passed it. Wanting to get away from Mirkwood and the oppressive darkness that had taken hold, Naire left and set out for Rivendell, there she began to study healing becoming extremely proficient in it. And there she also met and fell in love with a Ranger as he passed through. Many years later they were betrothed before he met a brutal death at the hands of a band of orcs. When news reached Rivendell, Naire was distraught, and from then on she closed her heart to others and became distant, not wishing to form attachments and suffer the loss when tragedy struck.
Family: Mother – Mireth is a healer. Father – Arthon is a warrior. Brother – Beren was a warrior/scout that died during an orc raid in Mirkwood.

Likes:Singing, music, dancing, being among nature
Dislikes:Being away from the woods, dishonesty, battles and the deaths they bring
Fears:Getting close to people and suffering the loss of them (mortals in particular because of how easily they can die), Being caged.
Best Memory(ies):Outings with her brother when she was a young elfling. He would take her to special spots he had found in the woods while scouting and they would share picnics. And the day she met the man she had hoped one day to marry.
Worst Memory(ies):The day her brother died and then again the day she received the news of her betrothed's death
Favorite Color(s):Green
Sexual Orientation:Straight, has very little experience.


Nov 23, 2011
Rhode Island
The Basics ~

Birthday/Age:650 years old (Appears to be 25)
Birth Location:Lindon

Appearance ~

Hair Color:Light Blonde
Eye Color:Cold Grey
Basic Physical Description:Tall, Muscular but feminine build, very soft features
Other Features:None
Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality:Strong, determined, a true fighter, loving and kind, selfless
History: Originally born Calithiliell meaning Daughter of Moonlight, Anueth gained her new name after her brother and guardian Nauron was injured in The Battle of Five Armies. She watched as he was carried into their home bloody, battered and barely alive. The sight broke her heart. Nauron had pretty much raised her from birth after their parents were killed off during an unexpected raid. The two were extremely close and seeing her brother in such a horrid state angered the woman and she wanted to get revenge on those who hurt Nauron.

Anueth began training to be a warrior despite her brother telling her not too. Before she began training she was thin and very feminine but as time went on her body became more toned and masculine in a way and she began to dress as a male warrior would. Most welcomed the change and even praised her for being so unique. She gained the name Anueth, meaning Masculine woman from her brother Nauron after he finally accepted her desire to become a warrior.

After Nauron's wounds healed he began to assist in her training, teaching her how to use a bow and move in ways that would make it damn near impossible for people to catch her. She progressed quickly as soon as her brother began helping with the training and soon became the man's right hand. The two are now inseparable, they protect each other and care for one another. Whenever the two are apart even if it's only for a short while both feel a certain emptiness until they are reunited with each other again.

They had traveled to Forodwaith in hopes to assist the people there after hearing of people being 'poisoned'. Anueth wasn't sure about leaving Lindon but Nauron told her she was the only one he would feel safe with traveling. It was clear the man was going to go whether Anueth decided to or not. Not wanting to be away from her brother Anueth accompanied him.
Family:Nauron(Brother), Parents Unknown to her.
Likes:Looking at the stars, dancing, conversation
Dislikes:Liars, brutes, people who hurt others without cause
Fears: Losing her brother, Not being able to help someone in need
Best Memory(ies):Training with her brother to become a great warrior
Worst Memory(ies):Seeing her brother injured
Favorite Color(s):White, Red, Black
Sexual Orientation:Lesbian, Dominate, Has Some Experience

The Basics ~

Birthday/Age:700 years old (Appears to be 30)
Birth Location:Lindon

Appearance ~

Hair Color:Blonde
Eye Color:Grey
Basic Physical Description:Tall, muscular, chiseled physique, strong facial features
Other Features:Various scars from battles fought
Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality:Straight forward, very blunt, protective over those close to him, has a kind heart and loves to help others
History:Born to parents Naurbenn and Aurbess he was raised to be a warrior from the time he was able to wield a bow. His father Naurbenn being a great warrior trained his son himself. Nauron learned various skills quickly. He was determined to be just like his father whom he looked up to.

After a while his mother Aurbess gave birth to his sister, who she named Calithiliell. She was a beautiful baby and her cold grey eyes reminded Aurbess of the full moon in a dark night's sky and that gave her the idea for the name Calithiliell, meaning daughter of moonlight. Nauron loved his sister automatically and helped his mother care for her. When his sister was still a baby their parents were killed during a raid. As their home was invaded Nauron wanted to stand by his father and fight to defend it but his father demanded that he take his sister and run until he found a place to hide. Nauron grabbed his sister from her cradle and held her close to his body as he ran for not only his life but hers as well. The two stayed hidden for a few weeks before Nauron felt it was safe to return to their home. When he got there he was greeted with the sight of his parents dead bodies.

Nauron began going to war as soon as his sister was old enough to take care of herself. During the Battle of Five Armies Nauron was terribly injured and nearly died. When he was brought back to his home he was unconscious. He was cared for by the people in his village until he was returned to full health. While he was laid up his sister had begun training to become a warrior and when she told him he immediately disapproved at first. He didn't want her to ever endure the things he did while on the battlefield and he didn't want her going to war period. Being the strong willed woman she was his sister insisted she aid him next time he had to go to battle so he took it upon himself to train her. After years of training he noticed his sisters appearance changed, she went from a soft, thin, curvy woman to a very muscular, androgynous looking woman. He gave her the name Anueth, not to be funny but to show that he was proud of who she was.

When he heard of the 'poison' and the way it was affecting people he felt it was his duty as a warrior to help. He had discussed the idea of traveling to Forodwaith with Anueth, who was a bit shaky on the idea. Their home had always been in Lindon, it was what they both had gotten used to and Anueth had never traveled away from home before. After a lot of reassurance that he'd protect her and him telling her he wouldn't want anyone else to accompany him she finally agreed to join him in his travels.
Family:Aurbess(Mother-Deceased), Naurbenn(Father-Deceased), Anueth(Sister)
Likes:Strong determined people, dancing, gazing at the stars
Dislikes:Liars, egotistical people, people who hurt others without reason
Fears:Anueth getting hurt in any way, Losing Anueth
Best Memory(ies):Training his sister to become a warrior, Looking up at the stars with his sister while talking about random things
Worst Memory(ies):Seeing his parents dead
Favorite Color(s):Black, Red, Green, White, Silver
Sexual Orientation:Straight, Very Dominate, Has Experience
Oct 17, 2012
The Basics ~

Name: Teemu Ylijumala
Gender: Male
Birthday/Age: 20
Birth Location: Suri-Maja tribe lands, Forochel
Race: Human (Lossoth)
Class: Fighter

Appearance ~
A typically stoic Lossoth at first glance. Teemu wears a hooded cloak made out of the head and skin of a Jäkarhu (white bear) he killed with a silver clasp. Underneath are traditional furred coat, pants and boots, made of Poro skin and trimmed with Hylje skin and fox fur. His clothing is well made and decorated with colored threads in geometric patterns on the edges, indicative to other Lossoth of his status as a high ranking or wealthy tribesman. Teemu carries a Lossoth hunting bow with a quiver of arrows, a hunting spear tipped with steel (a luxury as most have bone or stone tips) with a leather cord to make it a harpoon, and a fine Dwarven long knife on his belt.

He also has a pet dog, a white half-wolf/half-sled dog called Reko that is a loyal and protective hunting companion. Teemu scaped Suri-Maja lands on a dog sled but has sold the rest of his team as he can't afford their upkeep now.

Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
Weight: 200 lbs
Height: 6'0"
Basic Physical Description:
Long black hair pulled into a pony tail. Tanned face, but pale body. Flat Lossoth face with slightly slanted eyes. Strong and muscular, with a body toughened by the harsh existence of the Lossoth in Forodwaith.
Other Features:
He still bears some faint scars on his back from his father's beatings as a boy.

Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality: Taciturn, distrustful, brooding, prideful, faithful, passionate, prone to sudden bursts of anger when provoked

History: Teemu grew up as the youngest son of the tribal chief of the Suri-Maja. The Suri-Maja are a violent and warlike tribe of Lossoth with little love for their Lossoth tribal cousins. His father was a cruel man who was especially hard on his youngest son, who he deemed not tough enough. Teemu exiled himself from the Suri-Maja when he turned twenty, fleeing his family and friends after an incident involving a slave girl he loved that his father thought unworthy and arranged to have murdered.

Family: Teemu's father, Ukko, is the tribal chief of the Suri-Maja tribe and Teemu is his third son. His eldest brother, Tuomo, is the warleader of the Suri-Maja and heir apparent to the chiefdom. Ukko was a cruel father and raised his sons in fierce competition with each other, being especially harsh on the more sensitive Teemu.

Likes: Hunting, proving his valor, solitary activities, drinking, singing (he has a great voice and the Lossoth like to sing when gathered)
Dislikes: Appearing weak or helpless, men that act weak or helpless, cowards, women who act too powerful or perform what are traditionally male activities in the Lossoth culture (fighting and making war decisions are the two that will come up)

Fears: Being trapped or restrained (he was often tied or locked up as punishment by his father as a boy), large crowds of people
Best Memory(ies): Hunting with his brothers and killing a Jäkarhu with a spear, the brief romance he had with Elikka, a captured slave girl
Worst Memory(ies): Being beaten by his father for showing cowardice in his first raid, his father arranging for the Elikka, who he thought he loved, to be killed
Favorite Color(s): Red, green, anything colorful as the Lossoth live in a land of black and white
Sexual Orientation: Straight, Dominant, Experienced only with slave girls


Sometimes a Dream, Sometimes a Nightmare
Staff member
Jun 15, 2011
Uinen Alatar, Lady of the Stars

The Basics ~

Name: Uinen Alatar
Nickname: En
Gender: Female
Birthday/Age: 900 [looks to be about mid to late twenties.]
Birth Location: Undying Lands
Race: Maiar
Class: Istari Wizard

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Light golden Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Weight: 145 pounds
Height: 5'6
Basic Physical Description: Pale smooth skin, full pink lips, dainty shoulders, feminine jaw line, wide eyes slightly tilted at the corners, slender figure with a flare to her hips and a full bosom.
Other Features: Has a birthmark in the shape of a four pointed star on the underside of her right breast.
Visual Representation: Uinen Alatar

Background ~

Personality: Clever, sarcastic, haughty [at times], rude [also at times], calm and kind.


Uinen, originally a being of the Undying Lands was a Maiar who belonged with Ulmo; an Ainu, second greatest of the lords of Valar and one of the Aratar. He was a being with an affinity for water, his name meaning "Rain bringer or Pourer". Uinen was among the few of the Maiar who were female. In the Undying Lands she was known as "The Lady of the Stars". When Manwë summoned the council of the Valar to send three messengers to middle earth she begged Ulmo to let her go but he refused. He wanted no part of the mission and so Curumo, Morinehtr and Olorin were sent.

Never one to be able to accept being told "No" Uinen defied Ulmo and secreted away to middle earth on her own, close on the heels of the other three. However once she came to middle earth she found no trace of the other three. She considered searching them out but the thought that she might run into Curumo first made her quickly forgo that plan. She also knew if she came before Morinehtr and Olorin she'd be in grave trouble because she was not supposed to be there. So she shrouded herself in secrecy and moved across the world on her own. Over the course of time she heard of the great wizard Saruman the white and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Curumo. Never having trusted nor liked Curumo she stayed far from the shadow cast by Isengard. Through her travels she also heard of another wizard named Gandalf the gray, she had contemplated revealing herself to him but had always drifted back into the shadows of obscurity for reasons she never entirely understood herself. It wasn't the thought of getting into trouble for her actions that made her hesitate -at least not anymore- but she felt that keeping her presence on middle earth a secret was quite important for some reason.

She continued to wander the lands as a drifter moving from settlement to settlement, staying away from larger areas. She began to sense a restlessness in the waters and in the stars and a dark premonition stole over her. Something evil was stirring in the background. Uncertain of what the premonition meant she remained where she was. For awhile it seemed that her imagination had played a trick on her. Still she was never fully able to shake the feeling that a great darkness was building up strength in the dark reaches of the world. So she strayed out into more populated areas to pick up on rumors and listen in on conversations. When she heard nothing suitable she shrugged and went back to her seclusion.

And still the feelings persisted. And then without warning between one breath and the next, war broke out. Sauron had come back. Her intuition led her to stray close to the Tower of Isengard and there she saw what her intuition and dark omens had been trying to tell her; Saruman had joined forces with Sauron. Staff in hand she headed out to hinder the forces of Sauron and Saruman as best she could. In her travels to aid those who fought against them she heard rumors of lands far to north that had been cursed by Sauron's right hand man as it were. She knew if she could help the beings of Forodwaith it could add another ally to the forces who fought against the evil might of Sauron and Saruman. She knew her magics would be of great help to the people who'd been plunged into a cursed never-ending winter.

Family: None unless you count Ulmo.
Likes: Alcohol, flowers, rain, thunderstorms, horses, fire, rivers and lakes
Dislikes: Spiders, deserts, big cities, the cold and cruelty.
Fears: Eventually having to face Ulmo. Never being able to return to the Undying Lands.
Best Memory(ies): Leaving the Undying Lands and being able to wander the world.
Worst Memory(ies): Directly defying Ulmo by leaving the Undying Lands.
Favorite Color(s): Blue, white, silver, purple, golds, black, and emerald green.
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual / Switch / Somewhat experienced


Jan 22, 2012
Land Before Time
The Basics ~

Name: Luthíen.
Nickname: Luthíen.
Gender: Male.
Birthday/Age: 1700.
Birth Location: Rivendell, Eriador, Middle-Earth.
Race: (Elf (Noldor).
Class: Rogue/Ranger

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Blonde.
Eye Color: Blue.
Weight: 210 Ibs.
Height: 6'5
Other Features: Scars along his back and sides, not very visible.
Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality: Dare-Devil, Risky, Caring, Loyal, Secretive, Brave.
History: Grandchild to Elladan, and Great Grandchild to Elrond himself, Luthien has grown up within the safety of Rivendale among his elven brethren, relatively out of harms way when it came to the world outside. Such things as the Rings and their wielders, or Sauron and his Witch-King were out of sight and out of mind for a long, long time, which allowed him to grow up in relative peace. Yet even at times of peace, all Elves must have a role and all Elves have a calling.

Luthien found that calling in studying to become a rogue to work at his Great-Grandfather's command. Luthien was not brutihsly built, nor did he find wielding a sword or a mace particullary interesting, but had always preferred a pair of dagger and a bow to them. His body type helped, since he was leaner and more agile than most men, which furthered his success in the combat he was studying. During that time, he came to know and befriend an elf named Orrin, who was about the same age as him. The two boys grew closer in their training, and Luthien found himself frequenting his family's home and growing closer with them as a whole, including Orrin's sister, Marranwe. The girl was young, but in his eyes she was as gorgeous as the sun that loomed over their heads. Unfortunately, anything past subconscious flirting and frequent visits to her healing grounds to see her never happened, mainly out of Luthien's respect for her brother.

Time passed, and all of Rivendale began feeling the effects of the North's plague. Luthien, being the man that he is, tried to quickly volunteer to head to the north and investigate the problems, but his grandfather needed him elsewhere and instead, send Orrin and his family in Luthien's stead. As much as Luthien wanted to protest this, caring for the family and sensing the troubles of the North, he had no choice in the matter. It was only after Elrond had summoned him, and proclaimed that the family was missing, that Luthien was finally allowed to venture into the north to search for survivor. Thus, Luthien ventured out to Forodwaith in search of his loved ones, knowing that there was slim chance for them to have survived...yet he would risk all, to find even one.

Family: Elrond, Lord of Rivendell (Great Grandfather), Elladan (Grandfather), Elrohir (Uncle), Unnamed Father, Unnamed Mother (Not relevant to the story)
Likes: Family, Friends, Bows, Daggers, Stealth, Success.
Dislikes: Orcs, Goblins, Filthy things, tainted things, poison, Sauron.
Fears: Loss, Devastation, Loneliness.
Best Memory(ies): His time spent in Orrin's household, enjoying his free time with his best friend and his family.
Worst Memory(ies): The moment he accidentally stole the wrong lintel and was thoroughly disciplined by his great grandfather / The moment he was told that Maranwe's family was lost.
Favorite Color(s): Blue, Orange.
Sexual Orientation: Very Dominant, Straight.

Your Eternal Reward

May 28, 2013
The Basics ~

Name: Bremven
Nickname: Ven
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Birth Location: Rohan
Race: Human
Class: Bard/Rogue

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Hazel
Weight: 169 lbs
Height: 5’10”
Basic Physical Description: Sinewy, dexterous, and rugged with long, spidery fingers
Other Features: A wolf-bite scar on his right leg and a couple dozen thin cuts over his fingers.
Visual Representation:

Background ~

Personality: Resourceful / Perceptive / World-wise / Evasive / Cunning / Easily Startled

History: Like any tale, this one begins with the end of that which comes before. And so my story will begin with that of my father. Abad-mi’ir, known by most simply as The Black Rider, was allegedly one of Rohan’s finest sons gone awry. His exact reasoning remains largely unknown, but he took nothing with him when he left his father’s home save his horse and his sword. By the time I was born he had become something of a living legend, tales of the swiftness and loyal secrecy of his men spreading far and wide. His attacks were sporadic, unpredictable, and as easily come as gone.

Abad’s troupe relied too heavily on the speed of their horses to march slaves by manacles beside them, and so typically took only the slaves willing enough to ride the horses with their new masters, toying with the rest as they liked before leaving them in the dirt, alive or dead. My mother was a reluctant member of the former. When I grew old enough to learn language, my father assured me it was because she was so bloody terrified of the blade that she would do anything, stoop down to any length, to avoid it. Naturally, he would torture her for it, tormenting her each day like a twisted experiment, wondering how long it would take until she wished herself dead. My father would make me watch from time to time, during the less sexual of his torments, or during the reprimands or executions of guilty or disloyal slaves and horsemen. He said it would make me a stronger man, desensitize me to the brutalities and hardships of violence. He was right. And for the longest time, I thought he was right about the rest of it as well. I had come to see my mother as, in a word, pathetic.

As for her thoughts on me, Adrianna never enjoyed the idea that I was living proof that he had raped her, but, oddly enough, she never overtly denied me her breast or her lap. For some reason, the simple fact that I was her blood, her son, was enough. Of course, I was too young to actually remember it myself, but Abad told me the truth, especially since he could say it with enough spite to make it look like a bad thing. To him, and for the longest time, to me, it was a defeat; proof that she had succumbed to her new role as if she had never known anything else.

By the time I was old enough to fit into stirrups I had become a scout, honing my eyes and my reflexes to staying perceptive and elusive. It didn’t pay well in either rewards or prestige, but the perk of not having to charge into a pike was definitely one of the better job benefits. All in all, I was good at it. I had a mind that worked rather naturally with numbers and distances, so my approximations and estimations were usually on-point. As I grew I found myself additionally in the slightly more grizzly position of a silencer: fast-riding assassins in charge of, as the name implies, silencing those who would seek to alert any nearby kingdoms on the movements of the Black Rider. Of course, it didn’t bother me. By that time killing was as natural to me as riding.

The enormous reliance on speed meant that a silencer was not allowed to take a slave on his horse the way the rest of the bandits were, and the need to cover as much ground as possible meant we never really worked in teams. As a result, my life tended to be a silent, lonely one for the most part. That was, until I met him. Ilvrim. They said a silencer’s mark was already dead. It’s a wonder how much you can learn from a dead man. By the end of our discussion, he told me he didn’t want to die quickly. I granted his wish, and he granted me his legacy.

It was his voice that compelled me to speak to him, but it was his strings that intrigued me the most. I would spend nights on end simply playing single chords, perceiving, absorbing, and understanding the nature of the building blocks in and of themselves before I began. He had taught me a couple tunes, but the heart of a bard lies in expression, not in repetition. They were his words, his weightless sounds, and yet I found myself holding meaning in them. I wanted to be that: To pacify and agitate, to inspire hope and fear, to instill adoration or spite. So I learned, on my own at first, as each successive night’s campfire attracted more and more listeners.

Like all men, Abad had to die. My father had ruled through a simple agreement that might was right. It was a law even the most primal of beasts could comprehend, so it served him well for a time. But the moment he passed over the hill, the moment his strength began to wane, so too did his horde. There was Trenoth the Fierce, Margil the Vile, about a handful of other contenders, and me – thrown into the ring because I had both the charisma and blood to turn myself into a walking bullseye. Kill a man and everything he owns becomes yours. That was our way. And I was not having it.

So, naturally, I ran. Well, rode. The most rational thing to do would be to go south to Gondor. Gondor had strong walls, a bustling economy, and a fair king. It was common sense, really. Common enough, in fact, that Trenoth and Margil and the rest of them would have figured it out, too. So I decided to do the exact opposite, travelling north through Rhovanion, travelling from village to village, wandering as I plied my craft and learned the ways of the world. Step by step I travelled further north until I made my home in the town of Dale, making ends meet as a minstrel and a comedian. It was a quiet life, but I made my own music, so it worked out. I had a home, a woman. Miira. Things were good, and I had finally thought I’d beaten my past until they came. Bandits. No organization, no in-and-out. Hell, they were destroying more than they were pillaging. This wasn't a robbery, this was cruelty for the sake of cruelty. And I snapped. I was a boy again, unfazed, unfettered. I can still hear her screaming my name and I didn’t even so much as look back. I didn’t need to think because I couldn’t. Run, kill, ride. So I rode the same direction I always had: North. The Forodwraith. Land of the cold and unforgiving. Perfect. I’d fit right in.

Adrianna, Milkmaid – Mother, deceased
Abad-mi’ir, Bandit Lord – Father, deceased
Miira, Seamstress - Lover, deceased
Likes: Music of all kinds, stories of all kinds, riddles, mind-games, and alcohol.
Dislikes: Stubbornness, valor (tends to equate this with stupidity), being called a coward.
Fears: Overwhelming Odds, Magic (Ven has never interacted with genuine magic before, so he’s going to be incredibly shaken up by it on first contact, and incredibly skeptical until)
Best Memory(ies): Meeting Ilvrim
Worst Memory(ies): Abandoning Miira (Sack of Dale)
Favorite Color(s): Teal, Turquoise, Silver.
Sexual Orientation: Experimental. (He is a bard, after all. Still mostly straight with dominant tendencies). Very Experienced.
Dec 29, 2013
The Basics ~

Name: Racoan* Icewalker
Nickname: "Quick-Step Racoan", "Fleetfoot"
Gender: Male
Birthday/Age: 2966 / 52
Birth Location: Kuru-Leiri tribelands of Forochel.
Race: Lossoth (Dúnedain)
Class: Ranger / "Watcher"

Appearance ~

Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Gray
Weight: 210lbs
Height: 6' 3"
Basic Physical Description: Tall, with broad shoulders, a well-toned physique, and pale skin. More pointed facial features.
Other Features: Numerous scars, some attributable to inexperience early in his life as a Ranger, others to battles fought. A few, he will proudly claim when he's had enough drink, to not checking below as he jumped from a young maiden's window from their angry father.

Visual Representation:

Patrolling the border.

Weapons ~
Hae Racta
- A longbow close to five and a half feet in length.
- Crafted for him by a Lossoth tribeswoman who accompanied the Rangers who raised him as a commemoration of his birth.

Laden Nuru
- A strange mix of machete and short sword left to him by his mother in the event of her death. It was crafted by an elvish smith long ago for his mother.
- The blade and sheath have elvish text: most of it is declaring the bravery of the Rangers, though also stating that the blade was forged for the purpose of slaying "minions of darkness".
- The blade grows a faint blue in presence of Orcs and their kin.

Neth od in-Laden Pen
- Left for him by his mother as well, "Neth" as he calls it, is a hatchet forged by the same smith who made Laden Nuru.
- It has inscriptions similar to Laden Nuru on the length of the handle.
- Its blade does not have the same enchantment as Laden Nuru, so it does not glow.

- Gifted to his sister Ramena by their father in the event of his death.
- It was found buried in the body of a dead Orc, one of several in the area where they found several other dead Orcs, and Rangers.
- He holds it as a sign of his sister's death, because even if she had left it, she would have returned to the field for it, and found them again.

Background ~

Personality: Cavalier at times, and fancies himself a thoughtful romantic sort.

History: Though he would say otherwise, there are some who would say that Racoan was born in to the "Watchers". Really, it would be hard to see it another way. His parents, Lonat Icewalker and Inea Icewalker, were both Rangers of the North who conceived him in a night of heated passion, one of their twins born on the fields of Kuru-Leiri. Infancy was spent in the care of his parents, when they could, but more often both Racoan and his sister Ramena shifted from Ranger to Ranger while their parents were away. Along with the Rangers there were small Lossath families who had taken to following the main camp, providing services, and benefiting from the protection that the group offered them in return. More often, he can remember spending his time among those families as the Rangers were busy with their missions. So he and his sister existed in a strange way where neither knew who to identify as closer to: the Lossoth or their original Dúnedain heritage. As they grew older and they began to be taught the ways of the Ranger, with their main mentor being their uncle, Boshat "the Close-Handed". Riding, skating with bone skates affixed to the bottom of his boots, how to use a sleigh, and as he and his sister grew older the two trained together in the martial practices as well. It was during this time that his speed and agility became noted by the Rangers who trained him, earning him the nickname of "Quick-Step Racoan" when he took to the ice.

For every one lesson given to him of the body, there were two or more of the mind. It was a challenging weight for a young child to bare, coming from who his parents were. Racoan and his sister were both well-behaved children. Soon that would change.

Racoan was scarcely a young man, only having turned sixteen just a month ago when they were told the news. While sledding with his uncle after returning from a successful hunt, his sister Ramena had come out from the camp on her own sled as they'd come within sight. At first they wanted to know what was the emergency so grave that she couldn't simply wait for them to get back in the camp. Or Racoan was about to ask that, when he saw what was laying partially folded on his sister's sleigh. Wrapped in battle-damaged and blood-soaked cloaks he could see the glint of elfish metals. It had been no secret to them that their parents wished for their own weapons to be given to their children when they died. Boshat's teachings and the occasional sight of an empty tent being packed away taught them that no Ranger truly lived forever. That didn't make what was in front of him any easier for the young man to accept. His sister had been doing her best to present a brave face until she saw her brother break down and her uncle's eyes start to tear up. Weeks were spent after that where the two were in mourning. Then barely a month after their parents' passing the siblings both made it known they wished to go out and actually fight now that they were coming to adulthood. Despite his seniority among the group giving him the authority to prevent either of them from going, Boshat gave only token protests.

For fifteen years the two went out. Sometimes separate, sometimes together, and they always sought out a fight. In the field, his sister and he were both serious. When "home", his sister seemed intent to bury herself in training and studies of -- whatever might have interested her at the time. Racoan instead took to the drink and women. Among the Rangers and their occasionally changing camp of "followers" it was hard to live that sort of lifestyle, so when they would come across another tribe, or stop in a village then he would happily enjoy himself. Whenever somebody would confront him over it, he would argue that their lives were stressful enough already as Rangers, and that everybody needs their own way to blow off steam now and again. Two diverging personalities meant that he and his sister grew further apart, at least socially. They started to clash and argue as time passed. As she found love and marriage in a fellow Ranger, she pressured him to find somebody of his own rather than going from bed to bed whenever it seemed possible and convenient for him. It was when he was thirty two when they had their final argument as she was heading out with some other Rangers to deal with reports of bandits troubling a village on the plains of Talvi-Mura. Meanwhile he was headed by sleigh with three others for Lansi-Ma to deal with similar problems. Sadly that would be the last time he ever spoke to his sister.

The bandits he and his companions were faced with were scattered and killed easily in the cold night before any knew of the Rangers' presence. Three days ride from their camp, two days spent in the wilderness tracking, and it was another three days ride back. If they'd been keeping schedule then he knew his sister was likely to have beaten him back by at least a day or more. Returning to camp proved him wrong. His sister's tent was empty and all those both among the camp followers and the Rangers themselves said that she had yet to return to the camp. On his request after another two days of wait a small party was sent to follow her planned path along the coast in hopes of finding signs of her and those that had gone with her. Racoan was among them and even despite their disagreements in the past he was leading the search to find her.

They found bodies along a small coastal path a six days after setting out, many mostly covered by falling snow, and only a few were human. Pulling the bodies from the snow revealed at least three of the six Rangers that had been sent out, with two others being humans as well. Their equipment made Racoan think they were likely two of the bandits his sister had been hoping to find. Yet a majority of the bodies were far more revolting: Orcs, with deformed faces, and pale skin. There were no signs of either Ramena or her husband. His fellows tried to assure him that she might have lived and escaped into the wilderness but what he found that day still makes him believe his sister never survived, whether free or captured. He had kept a close hands on the blades his mother had gifted him and he knew Ramena was the same way with their father's gift of Ihingril. He found the sword buried deep in the chest of one of the abominations, with a bloodied scabbard resting underneath the snow only a few feet away. His sister would have protected that sword to her last breath. If she had been forced to flee without it, he knew that she would have returned to the field to find it again. Despite what others would say, his sister was dead.

While he still drank and sought the comfort of the few anonymous women he met in his travels, it became all the more painfully obvious to those who knew him that this was only a shell so he wouldn't have to actually deal with everything that had happened. More years were spent helping those who he could, fighting enemies where he found them, and spending late nights in beds that were either cold from emptiness or warmed from a soon-to-be-gone partner. With his ear to the ground, so to speak, for gossip his uncle was able to catch wind of a gathering "Fellowship of Forodwaith". Racoan has enough experience to likely be of some help, along with energy to put that experience to use. Plus his uncle felt such a great and potentially history-making task might bring a better focus back to his nephew. So on orders from the senior Rangers he has set out to meet up with this apparent "Fellowship" to offer his services.

Lonat Icewalker - Father, dead
Inea Icewalker - Mother, dead
Ramena Icewalker - Sister, unknown
Boshat the Close-Handed - Uncle, alive

Likes: Skating, sledding, archery, and swordplay. He's also a fan of smoking and drinking both, and listening to music. He also does his best to keep good relations with elves he meets. Also the quickest way for a woman to get to his heart is to be capable and strong -- but that's a story for another time.

Dislikes: Feeling as if he is being cornered, bringing up his past and childhood with others, and people who try to use nobility or upbringing to seem better than others. He also has a distaste for people saying that he was simply "born" into the Rangers, as he feels that cheapens both them, and his own accomplishments.

When the enemy "gives up".
- "You are running into a cave and they stop chasing you? Its worse at the bottom of the cave."
Being captured by the enemy.
- "Orcs aren't known for being kind just because you're too young to know anything important."
Sitting through the torture of his companions.
- "If my companions are captured because of my error, that is my failing to answer for. Not theirs'."

Best Memory(ies): Training with his sister, spending time with his uncle Boshat, and days when his parents would come home from long trips away.
Worst Memory(ies): The day his sister came to him with their parents' weapons, arguing with his sister before she left, and finding Ihingril abandoned in the field.
Favorite Color(s):
Sexual Orientation: "Pancurious", he would call himself, with dominant and straight tendencies. While he would claim to have vast experience, the life of a Ranger means he has been limited despite grasping at seemingly every opportunity within reach.
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