[arelendil]

Character Description Form:

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

For your character please include:

NAME: Naramarth (Priest)

AGE: 26

RACE: Man

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Naramarth carries a double handed broad sword. Dark steel, almost black with black leather grip. The hilt of the sword is the same dark metal into which is set a deep red stone.

APPEARANCE: Naramarth is a man of great height which he does not waste, though he is slenderly built he has great strength. His skin is pale from dwelling always in shadow. His hair his dark brown straight, reaching to his shoulders. His eyes are almost black, deep pits that show no mercy for he has none. His robes of the priesthood he always wears, dark some colour between blood red and black. His cloak is black, reaching to the floor hiding his booted feet. the collar of the cloak rises up from his shoulders, ending in spikes that skim the tops of his ears.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Naramarth has been a priest all his life, learning the ways of the dark since before he could remember. Naramarth loves the dark, the shadows in which he can hide. His movements he always conseals in shadow and mist and his long practise at this has been his movements almost silent. He considers himself high in the dark lords favour, though maybe high than he actually is, for who can tell the mind of the lord of darkness? His strength lies not in his muscles but in his mind and his devotion to the dark power. Once is mind is set on a task he will die trying in the name of his God.

HISTORY: Naramarth entered the Priesthood when he was but a boy. His father had been a high priest and his father before him. Naramarth's father had died in the service of the dark lord and it is Naramarth's greatest wish to die in the same manner, doing worship to the darkness, to his God. Naramarth's rise in the priesthood was fast, quickly learning to use those around him to better himself while staying on the right side of those that would do him harm.

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First Post:

Naramarth moved silently through the dark, shadowy corridors of the dark citadel, his feet making little sound as he strided between the shadows. Banners of blood red hang down the walls, still and foreboding in the dry, hot air trapped inside the citadel’s walls. The air burnt his lungs, a feeling which Naramarth loved. His hands went to his throat adjusting the ties that held his cloak in place, the hem of which was trailing lifelessly on the floor, making a soft swishing sound as he walked.

Naramarth quickened his pace, clenching his pale hands beneath his robes, something was happening in this place, the air had become drier recently if that was possible and whatever the change, Naramarth intended to use it to his advantage.

Naramarth suddenly stopped at a banner. He looked it up and down, admiring the work that had been done. He smirked to himself to see drops of blood on it, and not old blood, dry and hard but fresh, it made his skin crawl; tingle even with pleasure. One of the priestess had been playing with the slaves again. He cackled to himself as he continued on. The word had been spread that there was going to be a ‘trip’ to deal with the rebels of the desert. Naramarth hoped to be one the priests chosen to go. He would take great pleasure in dealing with the rebels who stood against the will of his Dark Lord and God. His hand reached through the folds of his robe, his pale skin glistened with oil even though the skin was brittle. He rubbed his hands together, loving the sound of skin against skin and bones snapping back into place. He was ready to honour his God and destroy the forces that stood against him.

Finally Naramarth reached the end of the corridor, in front of him stood a huge pair of doors. Glistening in the candle light to shone on them. They were made of dark metal like most important doors in the citadel. They were huge, reaching up to the ceiling, shrouded in mist and shadow that always hung from the roof beams. His hand ran over the design cut into the door; a huge eye lidless, rimmed with flame. Naramarth’s heart soared as he pushed against the weight of the door. Of all the chambers of the priesthood this was the biggest, the most important save the temple where they prayed and worshipped their God. This was the meeting hall and this was where Naramarth’s adventure would begin.