[piosenniel]

Submitted for Carrûn – member #5606


RANGER OF THE NORTH

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES, Holiday in the Sun, Flight from Rohan, In the Shadow of the Star

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES, Both

For your character please include:

NAME: Awyrgan (Real name is Encaitar)

AGE: 37

RACE: Northern Dunèdan

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Awrygan carries a longsword with which he is very skilled. However he often prefers to use his assortment of knives (three), one is strapped to his boot, one across his chest and the other in his belt. He is a decent shot with a bow, but seldom carries one, finding them cumbersome when speedy travel through unpleasant terrain is necessary.

APPEARANCE: About 5 ft 10", shorter than many of the Dunèdan, he is broad and well-built. His overall best description is that of weathered and dark, a sharp contrast to his relatively young age. His hair is jet black and his eyes are a bright green. He is said to have an unusually piercing gaze, full of pain and anger, as well as experience and wisdom. His clothes are most often black, and he wears a large cloak overtop of his other articles that hides his various cargo pouches and weapons. He wears on his index finger a solid black ring with a green jewel in the center, which he inherited from his father. He has a bizzare looking self-inflicted scar on the left side of his face.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Typical Ranger traits are in his blood, hunting, tracking, healing (although this is not one of his stronger areas), and a powerful will to survive. He is swift in his movements, almost wraith-like, and very light on his feet, and was nicknamed "Cat" by several childhood friends. He is generally bad-tempered, but has been known to show rare moments of extreme kindness.

HISTORY: Encaitar was born into one of the roving Ranger clans of the North, his father was brother to Halbarad. While the boy was still quite young his father and uncle quarreled and his father led a small fringe element of the clan off into the wilderness and formed their own camp near the region of Eregion. When his father died unexpectedly the tweenaged man was elected leader of the tribe. One day he returned from a hunt with a friend to discover his wife, unborn daughter, and the rest of his village completely destroyed. In despair his companion killed himself while Encaitar futility chased the rapidly disappearing tracks. Returning empty-handed, he buried his friends and taking the ring he had given his wife, heated it and burned it into his face as an eternal reminder of his failure.

He then renamed himself "Awyrgan" meaning condemned or strangled, and lived as a solitary Ranger in the Wild. When he first became chieftan he had attempted to restore contact with his uncle Halbarad which his father had severed but after his loss he seemed to have little desire for contact with anyone. However, he would pass through the Ranger camps from time to time and they tolerated him out of respect for his uncle. He rode with his uncle and Aragorn along the Paths of the Dead and fought in the battle of Pellenor Fields, however his only major part involved standing over the body of his dead uncle as the battle raged.

After the War he returned to his life of wandering but has gradually begun to attempt to move back into contact with the
rest of his kin. He remains a bit of an outcast still, for many of them still remember the quarrel between Halbarad and Awrygan's father. His lack of desire for social interaction often causes the other Rangers to feel shunned by him. Many of them still attempt to call him by his true name but he refuses to answer to it. He knows Thorgil and respects him as a noble leader, but the issue of the seeming disloyalty of Awyrgan's father remains between them (at least in the eyes of the younger).
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Carrûn’s post

The bright afternoon Sun shone down in a dazzling display of yellows that reflected off the many ripples racing along Lake Evendim's surface. Near the Western shore the water gave way suddenly to reveal the shape of a man gliding smoothly from the bottom of the lake to the surface. He paused, waist deep in the lake shaking the excess water from his ears and wringing his hair. Stretching, he walked to where his clothes lay and dressed quickly. His sharp eyes noticed fresh deer tracks running along the soft mud of the lakeside. He glanced to where his gear lay, and was relieved to see that he had remembered a bow this time. Gathering his assortment of weapons & tools he set off, following the hoofed prints.

He traveled for some time before his highly-tuned senses warned him that he was getting close to his target. The vegetation had thickened, and there was sporadic rustling in the bushes. As the breeze shifted the man froze and dropped to one knee. Several yards in front of him his quarry stood, oblivious to the danger. The man's bow was already out and an arrow was soon notched. Slowly, the man began to raise the weapon into a comfortable position. He took his time for the wind was still on his side. Five minutes later he was in position. As luck would have it, the wind shifted. The deer's eyes bulged as it caught the unfamiliar sent. It took one great giant bound before a whistling arrow stopped it in midair and dropped it to the ground.

Grinning, the man rose from his concealed location and walked over to the deer. Pulling the arrow out of the animal he placed it back in the quiver. He paused, cracking his back, and then slung the deer over a shoulder and began the walk back. About halfway to his destination he began to wish he had come across a smaller deer.

In the distance he was sure he could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone setting up camp. It had to be newcomers, for Rangers or Wild Men would never generate as much noise. He considered following the noise for a closer look but knew that there were several other Rangers in the area who had most likely already scouted the noise out.

It was nearly dark when the weathered man arrived at the Ranger campsite, it had moved about a hundred meters from the previous night and it had taken him a few extra minutes to locate. Few of the Rangers currently at the site acknowledged him as he strode through their parameter and he gave no sign of recognition in reply. Someone had carried his tent to the new site, but had left it un-constructed in a pile. It was far away from all the other men's sleeping areas but was within the camp's limits. Setting the deer down the man constructed a quick tent out of the canvas sheet he carried with him and then used readily available bark and brush to camouflage it. Picking up the bow and arrow he silently walked across the site and returned it to its owner, a gruff older man who grunted slightly and gave him a crooked grin as Awyrgan handed him the weapon. The man gave his thanks and an honest attempt at a smile in return.

Returning to his solitary campsite the man skinned and cleaned the deer. It was not a task he enjoyed but it was a necessary one. When he had finished he carried the skin over to the tent of the camp leader Thorgil and set it in the growing pile of animal hides. Thorgil had not returned yet so the man walked back to where the half-prepared meat lay - only to find one of the dogs making himself at home. With a surprisingly realistic wolf-like growl the man sent the dog packing with his tail between his legs. Seeing that the damage was not too severe the man's expression softened slightly and he tossed the excess of the carcass and damaged meat outside the parameter. Several dogs descended on the remains at once as the man laughed darkly. Lighting a small fire he set about smoking the strips of meat. Satisfied that things were going smoothly the man crawled into his tent and went to sleep.

He awoke early the next morning to the sound of men grumbling as they shuffled around small fires in the chill morning of the Northern wastelands. A dog was licking his face and he pushed it away, cursing affectionately at the creature as he did so. He grinned as he recognized the shaggy features of Fang, the self-elected pack leader of the Ranger's dogs.

"Gitatta here!" Fang shuffled off wagging his tail, a smoked piece of deer clasped firmly in his jaws. Awyrgan had no dog of his own, but Fang had apparently taken a liking to him.

The Ranger glanced up to notice the figure of Thorgil passing him on his way to the center of the camp. He nodded briefly in greeting to his superior and was surprised to receive a similar response. Awyrgan still felt somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of the other Rangers and was hoping to have a talk with Thorgil about his place in the camp when he could; the feelings of one man couldn't always be on the top of a leader's priority list.

Reaching the center of the camp Thorgil called all of the other Rangers to gather around him. Dragging his feet slightly Awyrgan followed the rest of the men as they formed a semi-circle around their leader. He explained the situation to them and Awyrgan, for lack of anything else to do, joined in the collective grumbling running rapidly through the camp. This was to be expected and was more a chance for the men to let off steam than seriously complain. The general shared feeling however seemed to be that these newcomers from the South would be one additional burden on the already heavily tasked guardians of the Northern Kingdom. Still, Awyrgan was not surprised when Thorgil asked for several volunteers instead of just assigning a group. He was obviously a skilled leader and Awyrgan had only been in his company for a few weeks.

However, Awyrgan surprised himself and everyone else around him when he heard himself saying. "I'll go, I'll do it." He sat back and waited for the camp leader's response. It was not long in coming

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]