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Old 06-21-2004, 12:46 PM   #11
piosenniel
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White-Hand

Aylwen Dreamsong – male Southron

Name: Jeren

Age: around 25

Race: Southron of Khand/Harad

Gender: Male

Weapons: All his weapons were confiscated when he was caught and brought to the tower, which angered Jeren almost as much as being captured in the first place. However, Jeren knows well how to use the bow and a set of arrows, and has a fair hand with any set of daggers set before him. While he never had extensive training with any kind of blade longer than a dagger, Jeren would rather use a broadsword or rapier than go into a fray empty handed. But this silly thinking is what got him caught in the first place, so Jeren is hesitant to ever use a long sword again.

Appearance: Strong and athletic, Jeren has the warrior build of his people. His dark mahogany curls frizz easily, falling just into his eyes and right below his ears. Stony grey eyes sit just about proud cheekbones and a determined, set jaw. He rarely smiles, and at most times there will be a contemplative look upon his brown-tan face. He wears a light tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The shirt has tattered since arriving at the tower, as have the hems of his brown breeches. He used to have a pair of nice, black leather boots, but they were taken upon arrival and deemed as a ‘nice find’ by the guards. Without his shoes, his tribal tattoos are visible all along the outer side of his calves.

Personality: Jeren’s appearance mirrors his persona. He will be strong for others, and will rally others to bring them to the best of their abilities. He is always up for the challenge of being a leader. He will never show outward weakness to others, and tries his best and hardest to hide all inward weaknesses, though he has yet to perfect the latter endeavor. While Jeren will always motivate and be determined for other people, Jeren has a hard time fighting for himself. Jeren feels like if he has no one to disappoint but himself, he does not try as hard. However, when he has people depending on him Jeren rises to the occasion, never wanting to let anyone down. Jeren’s most intense fears are disappointing others and being a failure to them.

History: Jeren comes from a strong warrior clan that roams the borders of Khand, Near Harad, and Mordor. While not a leader of his clan, Jeren led many fighting expeditions in his time of freedom. During the years of the war, Jeren worked as a strategic captain and led some of his and other clans’ best warriors on reconnaissance work, indirectly for the purposes in Sauron’s fight for leadership of Middle Earth. Jeren and his troop traveled as far west as Dol Amroth and as far north as Rhovanion and Rhun working for the forces of Mordor.

On one expedition to the areas near Mirkwood, three of Jeren’s men were caught by the light-footed elven kind. Interrogations revealed plans for an attack on the border of Mirkwood, and plans went awry for the battalions fighting under Sauron as their enemies had been informed and could prepare for battle. After learning of the lost men, the leader of Sauron’s forces at Mirkwood blamed Jeren for the mishap and loss. Jeren was stripped of his title as captain and taken back as a prisoner of Mordor and branded a traitor of their cause.

~*~

Aylwen Dreamsong’s post:

Alone.

Jeren had never been so alone in his life.

In his small, confined imprisonment room Jeren could find little comfort. The dank, dusty stone walls and the little candle that held all light in the room held no warm company. The wooden entryway in the floor that led to a small set of creaky wooden stairs did not offer hope of escape; Jeren knew who – or what – awaited him should he dare to open the decaying slab of wood. Jeren suspected it had been locked anyway. The metal bars on the left wall opened to some other cell, but Jeren had not been in his own room long enough to wonder if any other beings had been held prisoner.

Alone.

Jeren had no company save for the noises of battle outside the tower.

They had been rumbling and shouting for a long while, or so it had seemed to Jeren. None of it gave any hope to Jeren. If the attackers came out victorious, Jeren was likely to be pursued and killed for his days of fighting in league with Sauron. If the attackers were massacred, he would still end up in the high tower as prisoner. He would remain a prisoner in his own King’s castle. Jeren had little pride left in him and no one to fight for. After being deemed a traitor and a piece of scum by those he had fought for and those he had led, Jeren had little motivation to do anything. His own life would never be worth enough to try and save, and he had spent his whole life trying to help others. Jeren sighed as he thought about the past, which had been dedicated to others, then held his breath as he took a good look at the present.

Alone.

Jeren did not know how long he had been in the cell.

His clothes had already begun to tatter, though. At the hems Jeren could see the threads unraveling, releasing the pressure and care woven into breeches he had worn for so many years. Jeren’s thick black curls did not feel as soft or bouncy as they once had, while his face and body burned with the pain of a thousand scrapes and bruises. His dark eyes had long clouded over in misery, losing the sharp black gaze and being replaced with hardened and disheartened anger. Still, no matter how many thoughts brashly ran throughout his mind, he remained alone…

…That is, until someone stuck their head through the little door in the floor.

“I am Grash…follow me!”
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