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1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES (see below)
2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?
List them, please:
“A Land to Call Their Own’
Planning thread for “Bloodstained Elanor”
Please note you may play in only 2 (TWO) Shire games at one time. (The Green Dragon Inn DOES NOT count as a game for this.)
3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES – Which one? Both
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For your character please include:
NAME: Haenir
AGE: 67
RACE: Dwarf
GENDER: Male
WEAPONS: Haenir bears with him but one axe: an ancient weapon of great provenance in his family, as it was used by his forebears in all the wars fought by the Dwarves since the Dark Years. It is long and heavy but so perfectly balanced that it feels light in the hand of a trained axeman. It is bound about with supple leather and is engraved with the names of all who have borne it with honour. . .Haenir’s name is yet to appear on it.
APPEARANCE: Haenir is tall for a Dwarf and somewhat leaner than most. His beard is long and dark black, and he always keeps it plaited in two braids. His eyes smoulder with a deep subterranean brown and are hidden beneath a craggy brow. He is clad in tough armour that has clearly seen better days.
PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Haenir rarely smiles and talks little, for he only speaks when he has something that he feels worth saying. He is a ferocious fighter, but can be foolhardy in battle. He has a reputation for being a bit of a lone wolf, for he has never taken a wife despite his vast wealth, which he has acquired through shrewd dealings with other Dwarves and peoples, as well as his habits of immense thrift. He has few friends, but he is fiercely loyal to the King, to whom he has sworn personal fealty.
HISTORY: Haenir’s parents were both killed soon after he was born as they attempted to make the long journey to Erebor from the Iron Hills. Their small party had been attacked by a band of orcs just days into their journey and all but a small handful had escaped. When they party had arrived in Erebor, Haenir had been handed over to King Dain who had taken him into his household and raised him as a page to the royal family. In the King’s service, Haenir had learned all that he could about the ways of a warrior, and during the War of the Ring had acquitted himself well in the battle before the Mountain. He had stood in defence of his King as long as he could, but was unable to prevent the fall of Dain. The new King, in recognition of Haenir’s worth, took him into royal service as a member of the King’s Companions. For the last forty years, Haenir has been content to serve the King in this fashion, but lately he has begun to chafe beneath the easy and uneventful life of royal retainer. When word of the expedition to Rhun reached him, he asked the King for leave to accompany the party.
FIRST POST:
Haenir awoke early that day, like a child on the morning of a party. For weeks he had awaited their departure but now that the time had come for him to leave his room he found himself reluctant to prepare. For forty years this one small room had been all the home he knew, and it had been enough to him. High up the mountain, not fifty feet from the Royal Bed-Chamber, he had served the King Under the Mountain loyally and with love, but his heart now longed to see the world beyond the shadow cast by the Mountain, and to seek his fortune in no-one’s service but his own.
It did not take him long to get ready, as he had been following the same routine for most of his life. He dashed some cold water on his face and quickly plaited his beard before donning his armour. It was heavy upon him, but he hardly noticed the weight. He put the few possessions he wished to accompany him on the journey into a small pack that he slung on his back. The last thing he did was take down the long, richly engraved axe that hung on two pegs just above the head of his bed. He moved to his door and took one last look back into his room before turning his back on it.
He moved through the long corridors and wide halls of the Mountain without paying heed to his route, for he knew every inch of this place as though it were an extension of his own body. Indeed, in the last few years he had begun to feel as though he were himself made of the stone of the Mountain, so used was he to living within it. It was this, he decided, that had finally prompted him to ask the King to be released from his service to the Royal Family and be allowed to accompany Durin and the others on this mad journey into the unknown. Haenir had heard the wild stories of riches in the East, but he did not fully believe them; he was not undertaking this journey for wealth – with which he was already well-provided – but for the possibility of gaining what had ever eluded him: honour. Of all the long generations in his family that had borne the axe that he now held in his hand, he was the only who had yet to do a thing of renown that would make him worth to engrave his name into the steel of the axe’s head. He saw this journey as his last chance at such honour.
When he reached the Great Hall the others were gathering to bid farewell to their friends and family. He stood by himself off to one side, impatient to get underway.
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