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Old 08-21-2003, 02:16 AM   #150
piosenniel
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Ealasaid's character - Kaldir

NAME: Kaldir

AGE: 42

RACE: Men. Both his father and mother were Dunedain

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Long sword, long knife worn at the belt, and a variety of smaller knives concealed about his person. He also carries a rope and sometimes a whip...tools of his trade.

APPEARANCE: Kaldir is about 6 feet tall with a lean and muscular build. He has dark brown hair that falls just past his shoulders, which he wears tied back most of the time. He is darkly tanned, and wears a short beard. His eyes are of such a pale blue that the irises nearly vanish into the whites. Ice blue is a good description, as his eyes are usually cold, reflecting very little emotion. While the right side of his face is quite handsome, with a high cheekbone and strong brow, the left side of his face has been badly disfigured: the cheekbone smashed, and the skin a twisted mass of scar tissue from his hairline to his beard. This also affects the musculature of his face -- for instance, he can only smile with the good side of his face. Scars also disfigure a good bit of the rest of his person.
He dresses like a Ranger, in the browns and greens of the forest.

PERSONALITY: Because of his experiences in Mordor, Kaldir has a severe case of Post-Traumatic Stress (if you will pardon my foray into modern psycho-babble.) Consequently, there are a few pages missing out of his Personality Handbook. He feels very few emotions, but the ones he does feel are powerful and extreme. Also, he feels very little connection with or empathy for others. He exists in a kind of survivalist vacuum. Under the right circumstances, he could be healed, but, so far, those circumstances have not existed in his life.
He sleeps very little. He is also prone to debilitating flashbacks. Usually few and far between, these are caused by specific triggers. Unfortunately for him, Naiore (as his chief tormentor in Mordor) is one of those triggers. The flashbacks, when they come, cause him to flinch & lose concentration for a few seconds as his mind returns to certain horrific moments in his past that he has suppressed, unable to deal with them.
Finally, due to head injuires sustained during his imprisonment, large portions of his long-term memory of pre-war events have been either damaged or wiped out.
Overall, despite all the damage, he is a hard, tough man. Even so, he has his good points. He is polite and well-spoken, with a dry sense of humor. While he has difficulty forming connections with others, he does form likings for other people, based on respect for them or their actions. He will treat them well and look out for their well-being... as long as they don't get in his way. (Gilly & Lespheria, so far, fall into this category.) Once they get in his way, however, all bets are off.

STRENGTHS: Kaldir is a very intelligent individual, but his main strengths are that he is relentless and infinitely patient. When he is on someone's trail, he can bide his time until exactly the right moment. When he does choose to strike, he is generally fast, strong, and ruthless.
He can track almost anything, anywhere. He is a highly skilled horseman and an expert with a sword. While his archery skills are passable, he generally prefers other types of weapons.

WEAKNESSES: See the Personality description above. Also, his growing love for Benia leaves him vulnerable. In his emotionally stunted state, he behaves (toward others, where she is involved) more like a wolf over a fresh kill than a man with a potential love interest, but his feelings for her are deep. He would go to great lengths to protect her from harm.

HISTORY: Kaldir was born in the north. He never knew his mother as she died giving birth to him. Growing up, he was close with his father who taught him all the fighting and tracking skills of a Ranger. He grew into a brave and intelligent young man, loyal to Aragorn and completely at his disposal. He began riding with the Rangers at a very young age. He was not quite thirty when he fell at the Battle of Raven Falls, where he was taken prisoner by the orcs and transported south to Mordor, where he spent the next three years, and pretty much the duration of the War, as a prisoner and slave of Sauron. While in Mordor, he endured unspeakable horrors at the hands of Sauron's underlings, one of whom was none other than Naiore. Fascinated by pain and death, she tortured and tormented him nearly to the point of death throughout his imprisonment. He only survived through sheer strength of will, his experiences hardening him into the predator he is today.

After the war, he tried to return to the Ranger lifestyle, but found that he could no longer fit in. He gradually drifted away from the society of the other Rangers, keeping to himself and hiring his tracking skills out to whomever was willing to pay for them. Eventually, this led to bounty hunting, oftentimes in the employ of the same types (evil southerners) who had earlier enslaved him, only now they treat him with fear and respect. He travels easily between the north and the south, on no one's side but his own. The other Rangers view him with some suspicion, but generally leave him to his own business as, out of principle, he never goes after any of them. He arrives at the Forsaken Inn with the intent of capturing Benia for the bounty placed on her by Haradrim holdouts in the South. While there, he discovers the presence of Vanwe, who would be worth considerably more than Benia in terms of a bounty, and Naiore, against whom he wants nothing more than revenge. If he can collect a bounty for Naiore after she is dead, so much the better. (He's pragmatic, if nothing else.) His hatred of Naiore is very personal.

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Ealasaid's post for Kaldir

As Kaldir slid the bolt into place that sealed his captive, Benia Nightshade, into her cellar prison, he frowned to himself. Why couldn’t he kill her? There was a hefty price on her head in the south, as there was for any of the remnants of the Painted Sand tribe. He didn’t even need to deliver her alive. Since the Painted Sand people had the peculiar custom of tattooing their women’s hands with clan markings and tribal symbols, all he needed in order to collect the bounty was her hands, salted, mummified, or however he cared to deliver them. When he had abducted her from her bed at the inn the night before, his intention had been to make short work of her. He had even pre-stocked the cellar with an axe, a pound of salt to preserve the hands, and a heavy chopping block. All remained unused and Kaldir found himself facing a fresh set of problems, not the smallest of which was what to do with the southern woman now that he had her.

Stooping to pick up the bundle that contained her used supper dishes, he made a noise deep in his throat that sounded something between a grumble and a growl. If he intended to take her with him, he would have to find a horse for her and some shoes. Having taken her from her bed, she was barefoot with nothing heavier than a cotton dress to protect her from the elements. He would have to find a way to obtain her belongings from the inn. The sprained ankle made the horse a necessity. Of course, she could ride double with him, but he was afraid he would find that a touch too distracting, especially for the journey he had a feeling he was soon to undertake. As it was, he had difficulty pushing the image of her dark amber eyes and shining black hair out of his mind. Having her on the same horse with him would be a disaster. He would get a second horse.

Or he could let her go, just leave her in the cellar to her fate. Kaldir thought about it as he walked back through the darkness toward the inn. That would be the simplest solution, the obvious thing to do, that is if he did not go ahead with his original plan and kill her already. Her hobbit friend would no doubt find her well before she managed to starve to death. Mrs. Banks seemed like the determined type. Nonetheless, he found himself continuing to waver over what to do with Miss Nightshade.

Approaching the inn, he slowed his steps. He was growing annoyed with himself for his own indecision. The problem was that he felt a connection to Benia, as thought she had something to do with him on a fundamental level. He wasn’t sure what that something might be, but, if he were to destroy her, he would never know.

He would get a second horse. He would return Cook’s dishes to the inn, settle his accounts, and then seek out Cobhan Tupper, the local gypsy horse-trader, and negotiate or threaten him into a decent price on a passable mount for the girl. Stopping just outside the inn grounds, Kaldir gave his head a quick shake, as though trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The whole situation was crazy. He should just go back to the cellar and do the deed. When she was gone, that would be the end of it. No more haunting images of smooth brown skin and long-lashed eyes. She would be nothing more than a commodity in a bag, to be turned in for a price. Finally, he nodded to himself but the expression in his pale eyes was bitter and hard.

Pushing the thought of Benia out of his mind, Kaldir stepped forward into the inn’s yard. The grove of trees that lay on the far side of the inn from where he stood reminded him of his more pressing concerns. First of all, there was Vanwe, the young elf lady upon whose head lay a substantial price, placed on her by the Haradwraith village that had been foolish enough to lose her, the daughter of Naiore Dannan. He had almost managed to capture her several times earlier in the day, but each time found himself waiting, instead, for a more opportune moment. She was impulsive and quick, but clearly frightened of her own shadow. He could use that fear against her, but really didn’t think he would need to. She had a tendency to bolt suddenly out of rooms where there was the relative safety of other people to go off by herself, where she became - for him - a sitting duck. He was confident that it was just a matter of time before Vanwe joined Miss Nightshade in her cellar prison. Or, rather, took her place. Then, soon after, he could begin the long journey south to return Miss Vanwe to her village.

But he was troubled by the presence of the other, the one he had taken to thinking of as The Watcher in the Woods. It was a familiar malevolence that he had sensed there that afternoon, one he knew well from long experience. But could it really be she? He had no desire to go creeping about in the darkness to find out, but, come dawn, that was exactly where he intended to go. It would make sense for Naiore to be there. After all, the daughter was there, why not the mother? He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he cast one more glance across the yard toward the gloom and mist between the trees. He had the distinct feeling that she waited for him out there between the black tree trunks, a dark presence with unfinished business. The long-smashed bones of his face began to throb. He had some unfinished business with her as well. Daylight would be there soon enough. He would find out then if Naiore had indeed come to the north.

Stepping across the threshold into the cheery warmth of the inn’s common room, Kaldir made first for the kitchen where he dropped off the crockery from Benia’s dinner. Then, he returned to the common room, where by chance or fate, the first face to catch his eye was that of the horse-trader himself. Always one to follow his instincts, Kaldir took it as a sign. He joined Tupper at his table.

"Greetings, you old horse thief," he said pleasantly, taking the empty chair at the horse-trader’s elbow. "Have you any horses to sell?"

Cobhan Tupper looked up in surprise, then a grin spread across his swarthy, whiskered face. "To an old scoundrel like you? Of course.’ He took a long drink from his tankard. "What happened to that big gray stallion of yours? Did he finally die of ill humor? I believe I still have a hoof print in my backside courtesy of that evil-tempered beast."

Kaldir smiled wryly. "You shouldn’t have tried to steal him." Raising his hand, he signaled to Rowana Brandybuck for an ale. "He’s stabled outside."

"A fine animal! Would you be interested in selling him?"

"No. I’m only interested in buying."
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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