Darker Days Discussion Thread

[piosenniel]

Hama of the Riddermark’s character


NAME: Hama Haukrsonn, General of the Hawkshead Company of Rohan

AGE: 42

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS AND ARMOUR: Ornately crafted sword. Ornately crafted shortbow with quiver of arrows. Ornate shield. Ornate armour. Throwing spear.

APPEARANCE: Tall, handsome and muscular with a neatly trimmed beard, the same straw color as his hair. Wears a green cloak with the Hawkshead emblem embroidered in gold on its back. Intense dark blue eyes.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Hama is a jovial yet deadly man, inclined to laugh whenever possible, but vicious in battle. He can always find the good in a situation, even if he doesn’t say it. His gruff voice and laugh make people feel instantly comfortable, and he doesn’t hesitate to say exactly what he means.

He is recklessly brave, taking risks that other men would pale to take, yet somehow always coming out alive with another story of heroics and bravery to tell. He is incredibly loyal, protecting his own like they were his children and fighting mercilessly to defend king and country. He is masterful with the sword, although less so with the bow and spear.
He is stubborn, and once convinced of a course of action, nothing can dissuade him from it. He is also blunt, sometimes to the point of rudeness.

HISTORY: Hama was born in Rohan, son of Haleth Haukr, a respected warrior. He led an unremarkable childhood, but by the age of eighteen was already prodigiously skilled with a sword. He joined the Rohirrim soon after, and rose quickly from a boy into a feared and respected man. He was soon given the position of second in command to General Dorian Heart, a man who Hama despised. Heart was a wife-beater who had driven his child, Crystal, into exile in the Shire. After the War of the Ring, he had seen many friends killed, and had comforted their grieving widows. He returned to Rohan to find his homestead destroyed by bandits. His wife brutally violated and mutilated, and his children slaughtered. After this, Hama’s reckless enthusiasm for battle was replaced by a cold and measured aggression.

The general, threatened by Hama’s strength and popularity, falsified a charge against him and forced him into exile. He headed for the Shire, hoping to find Crystal. Find her he did, and it wasn’t long before reports reached the Green Dragon that General Heart had been killed by assassins and Eomer had officially pardoned Hama, and wished him to succeed into the rank. He could not, of course, refuse the offer, and traveled back to Rohan.

When Hama was made General, the company officially changed its name to the Hawkshead company in honor of Hama’s father, who by this time had died. He was given a grand funeral, fitting for the sire of such a noble son. Since that day Hama has led his company in many successful skirmishes and battles in the outlands of Rohan, and has become something of a folk hero. His unwavering sense of honor and duty combine with his immense physical prowess into a man both feared and loved by his soldiers.

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Hama of the Riddermark’s post


Hama looked up towards Edoras, the sunset was beautiful. He sat on his horse and watched the orb sink below the hill, the last beams catching the roof of the Meduseld in a glorious display of reflected light. A cool night-wind blew against his face, and he breathed deep, savoring the fresh taste of the cool air. Running a hand through his hair he gazed into the dark sky, sighting the stars and simply watching them sparkle. It had been a long while since he had last done this, and he regretted immensely that he had not been able to do it again sooner. The night was the one place where he could be at peace, alone. It was all very well for him to be the great hero, savior of the borderlands, in public, but he needed time away from all of that.

He didn’t think that Eomer would grant his request, but the outlands of Rohan had been quiet for many weeks, mainly thanks to Hama, and so the King had been unusually charitable in dealing with Hama’s petition for a few weeks’ leave. The first thing he had done was to saddle his horse and ride into the wilderness, settling down and camping under the stars by a small fire, cooking his own food for the first few days. He smiled wryly; it had almost tasted better than the fancy meals that his cook prepared for him. He had never much cared what he ate, as long as it kept him alive, and the over-indulgence practiced in the court had placed a few extra pounds on Hama’s waistline that he was eager to lose, and fast. It was no use being a Hero General if you were too fat to mount a horse or use a sword, and though Hama was at the peak of physical health, even at the age of forty two, he could feel the fat dragging him down like so much lead. After a week alone, he had lost most of his extra poundage, and began to ride around the Riddermark, visiting the people under the protection of the Hawkshead Company. Many of them were gracious, but some were uncivilized to the point of barbarism. It was a sobering experience for Hama, rich and handsome General of the Mark, to see a deformed beggar eating dirty meat cast out of the butcher’s shop and intended for the dogs. Hama gave the man a small pouch of silver coins, telling him to buy himself new clothes, a bath and a decent meal. The beggar threw himself at Hama’s feet, kissing his boots, and the General realized that his was likely the only act of kindness that this poor man had ever received.

Hama felt more at peace than he ever had done before, sitting under the black blanket of night on his noble stallion, Valuk. It was two weeks since his encounter with the beggar, and Hama had revisited the town and found the same man sitting in the street, looking certainly less disheveled, and with a bowl of hot stew next to him. The warmth of his embrace when he rushed at Hama, throwing his arms around the General’s chest, was a startling experience. After a second or two Hama returned the embrace, patting the man gently on the back. He still found it incredible what a difference a single bag of silver could make to a man’s life.

In any case, he was headed back to Edoras now, his leave over and his duty about to begin again. He was using his last night to lie with the world and enjoy it before he returned to his usual bed. Thirst struck his throat like an axe after about an hour, and he nursed his horse into a slow canter towards Edoras, the gates opening slowly at his command. He tugged Valuk’s reigns to ease the horse up the path that led to the White Horse Inn, ale was starting to sound like a joyful prospect to a man bereft of his luxury, albeit voluntarily, for a month…

[piosenniel]

Dimturiel's character

NAME: Edhener

AGE: 25

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: One sword, being a gift from his elder brother.

APPEARANCE: Tall, with shoulder-length light brown hair and keen grey eyes. He looks much younger than his real age. He sometimes has a vacant expression, that could make him seem unapproachable.

PERSONALITY/ STRENGHTS/ WEAKNESSES : He prefers solittude and tends to mistrust people, but when he does become attached to someone, he shows unwavering loyalty to that person. He knows what to do in difficult sittuations and is quite good in battle. Still, he is slightly impulsive, and tends to do rash things when provoked. People who do not know him well, despise him, considering him arrogant and odd.

HISTORY: He was born in a family of four others- three sisters and one brother- of which he was the youngest. He and his brother took part in the battle of Pelennor Fields, where his brother was killed, and he was wounded. He lives together with his parents and one of his sisters, the two others being married. He is courting a maiden renowned for her beauty, but for her pride also, and would do anything to win her.


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Dimturiel's post

Edhener was standing in front of the White Horse inn, watching the setting sun. Evening was his favourite time. It was pleasant to watch the sinking sun, as it carressed the geen fields of Rohan, making them blush scarlet. Evening brought memories into his mind, memories which he cherished as if they were some wonderful things crafted with great devotion by his own hands. But even the memories could not make him forget the happenings from the last few days. And whenever he thought of them, his eyes flashed with anger.

Where had he gone wrong to recieve such cold treatment? Was there anything he could do, in order to bring a twinkle of delight in the eyes that lately flashed with distaste at the sight of him?

The thought of brave deeds sprung to his mind. He saw himself riding to meet a large army of enemies, or battling with all the fiends ever spawned in the world, untill he fell, worn out and wounded. Then he pictured himself being brought home in the arms of one of his companions, and he saw the proud disdainful eyes filled with tears of regret and concern...

Edhener tried to still his fantasies. The war was long over. Gone were the beasts that brought terror and ruin into people's hearts, gone with them the chance of young men winning renown by fighting them.

Unless the rumours were true, and then he might have a chance of proving his worth. But who would take him? True, he had friends that could reccomend him for his valour and his fighting skills, but too many people considered him odd and unfriendly, an unsuitable companion for any expedition.

"I would prove them wrong, were they to give me a chance."he thought. "I would prove everyone wrong, including her"

His head bowed with the burden of so many thoughts, Edhener turned his back to the darkening world and entered the inn.

[piosenniel]

Cordelia Harrison's character


NAME: Cordelia Smatherson

AGE: 22

RACE: Human

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS (No magical, super-hero, mithril weapons. Just good solid Middle-earth weapons and armor only that is appropriate to the race of the character and the time period.): An old sword that was once her grandfathers that lays in its hilt at her hip.

APPEARANCE: She has dark brown hair and light blue eyes. She can be typically found wearing a working dress, but since her best friend's father died she has only worn riding clothes because she goes to the Mayonette's estate.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: (No half-Elven characters. No mixed-type characters. No super-heroes. No assassins. No one all powerful, martial arts proficient, or having any magical traits. Just regular characters with normal abilities for their races only): She is lively, happy, and bright. She always tries to see the best in everyone and in every situation. However, she can be serious and she can fight without thought. She is more than willing to use her sword against someone. Strength: Sword fight - she was taught by her grandfather. Weakness: her innocence.

HISTORY: Mayonette and Cordelia have been best friends since as long as both of them can remember. Her mother died at her birth and her father was always away. Her grandfather raised her and taught her everything that she knew.

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Cordelia Harrison's post

She had gone to Mayonette's estate, but couldn't find her there. Now she was standing in front of the White Horse Inn, just contemplating on whether or not she should go in. She sighed deeply and decided to go in. Whether or not Mayonette was in there she was going in. She hadn't had a good drink in a while.

Cordelia walked in and saw Mayonette sitting at the bar. She walked over to her and sat next to her without a word.

"Why aren't you home protecting the homestead?" She asked her, knowing that she was going to get a look that stated simply: Back off Cordelia.

[piosenniel]

Glirdan's character


NAME: Léoflic

AGE: 20

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A Long Bow which he inherited from his mother and a Short Sword which he recieved as a gift from his best friend

APPEARANCE: Sleek, brown hair with dark, deep set brown eyes. Riding clothes (black boots and pants with a dark green shirt under a black vest). His Short Sword is stuck in a black, leather sash and his Long Bow is slung over his right shoulder along with his quiver of bows.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Young, eager and bold. Very outspoken yet easy to trust. Very loyal and very protective. Quick to anger yet even quicker to laughter. Always ready to fight in defense to protect those he cares about. Strength - Fighting skills Weakness - His wanting to see the innocence in others.

HISTORY: Only child born into a poor farming family. Father died when he was young and was raised by his mother. Mother died when he was about 13. He recieved her bow which she used to go hunting when she was young. Grew up with his best friend.

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Glirdan's post

Léoflic looked out of the window across the wide plains of Rohan, thinking back on his past. His father had died in war when he was young. He doesn't even remember what he looked like. He was raised by his mother, the only family he had. She was caring and stern. He had a good life. Then that fateful day came when his mother fell deathly ill. He was only thirteen when it happened. He was standing by her bedside when she said "Léoflic. It is said that on the deathbed's of men, that they can see into the future and it is the case this time, yet I will not reveal to you what it is. Take my bow. You will need it and remember that I will always be with you." and with those final words, she passed out of Arda.

As he looked on at the flowing plains, he remembered what happened after. He had no family left after his mother's death and was left to fend for himself. He remebered wandering the plains of Rohan when he met him, his best friend. They grew up together and did everything together. He put his hand to his Short Sword and thought back to the first gift he recieved from his best friend. He thought back to their parting. His friend wanted to become a Healer, like his father whereas Léoflic wanted to be a mercenary. It was silent farewell and as he thought back to it, a lonely tear slowly developped in his eye and slid down the side of his cheek.

"It's time I stopped dwelling on the past and continued with my life," he thought to himself. "This is for you mother," and he turned his head away from the slowly sinking sun.

[piosenniel]

Witch_Queen's character

NAME: Thomas

AGE: 23

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: An old sword and spear his father had given him before leaving to fight in The War of the Ring.

APPEARANCE: He has what appears to be the making of a beard which seems to be a slight bit darker than his shoulder length sandy color hair. Thomas has a scar on his left cheek which only seems to make his appearance that much more pleasing to the eyes.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Thomas is young and like all young people is naïve to the world before him. He’s kind-hearted and doesn’t hold a grudge against anyone. He feels life’s too short to go around mad at anyone. Thomas is easy to get along with and cares deeply about his family and friends.

HISTORY: After Thomas’ father left him and his brother to fight in the War of the Ring, Thomas forced himself to grow up quickly. Thomas grew up without his mother in his life. All he ever knew was that he was lucky to still be alive. His father had always told him that his mother died during child birth and Thomas was his miracle child. Thomas’ dream is to one day join the Rohirrim and fight along side the great General Hama. So for the past few years Thomas has been training to improve his sword and spear skills. Thomas’ brother had always taunted him for being the youngest, but Thomas only used the taunting to grow stronger.

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Witch_Queen's post

Thomas was shocked when he heard the news. He looked at his brother, "You mean the Mayonette that we grew up with. How could this happen?" Thomas' brother shrugged his shoulders. He only knew what he was told. "Maybe I can catch her over at her house." His brother looked at Thomas suspiciously. "Tommy I doubt you'll catch her there. I've been told she's going to the White Horse Inn. If you leave now you might be able to see how she is doing." Thomas stood up from his kitchen table. Mayonette had always been a good friend of his when they were little.

Thomas went to his room to grab his sword and spear. He some how had a feeling that the spear may come in handy...eventually. "Joe I'm taking Chianna and going to the Inn. Maybe I can find out some more information there." Thomas went out the side door of his little home only to walk straight into the stables. When he decided to build his home he wanted his horse as close to him as possible. So having the stables right out the side door was his best idea at the time. He walked over to his horse, slowly stroking her mane. "Chianna, its time for a nice walk. You can't stay shut-up in this old stable all day can you..." He placed his fathers old leather saddle on the giant animal. Chianna was a beautiful creature, her coat shined in the sun. She was a nutmeg brown and Chianna was Thomas' best friend besides his brother.

Thomas mounted his horse and proceeded to the White Horse Inn. All he cared about was making sure his friend was alright. If help was needed he knew he would gladly offer his services.

[piosenniel]

The Sixth Wizard's character

NAME: Garnae

AGE: 21

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male Rider of Rohan

WEAPONS : Spear, sword, anything else a Rider of Rohan might own. A horse named Creon. May access Rohirrim weaponry if in need.

APPEARANCE: Blonde, like most Rohaners. Rather tall and lanky. Garnae wears general Rider's armour, before that only owning a farmer's outfit. His eyes are very, very dark, this, being rare, is a striking feature.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Garnae doesn't like big strengthy jobs, preferring the spear and bow. He's quite smart, and willing to help others. He is slow to anger and peaceful. Living out on the farm has made Garnae skilled in archery and tracking. He is a mite eccentric, and finds it hard to make friends, but those who see past his wierd outer layer find him loyal and hardworking, a good friend. His motto is 'make the most of all resources'.

HISTORY: Garnae was born in Edoras very distantly related to the royal lineage. He is an only child. When he was three the War of the Ring took place, and his entire family was murdered by Uruks apart from his father and grandfather. At 16 he started a farm with money lent to him by Conwe, his grandfather. Since then he has become rather poor, with his land being bought at ridiculously low prices by Sandrina's Uncle Samuel. Garnae joined the Riders of Rohan in need of money, at the urging of his father Creon, after whom his horse is named. He is at present 21 years old and unmarried, unless he can pick up a lass in this RPG of course!

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The Sixth Wizard's post

"Ah, an Inn ahead," said Garnae as he rode deftly upon the horse, Creon. He had finally finished his training as a Rider, perhaps now he could earn enough money for his family. Anyway, this was a time for celebration. Although he had passed the training through unorthodox methods, defeating opponents with wit and smarts instead of brute force, it was over and he could relax for the first time in a long while. The constant urging of Sandrina Hitherford's greedy Uncle Sam had reminded him that his farm was going broke, and that there were no other buyers. There was really nothing for it; sell the land to him (much of which had already been sold), or join the Riders.

Garnae was sure Sandrina's uncle was assisting in the mysterious demise of his farmland. Cattle went missing, the stream was dirty and crops grew poorly. One day as he ploughed the fields he found a handful of salt, perhaps dropped by a treacherous hand as it fallowed the earth. As much as he tried though, Garnae couldn't ever find Sam or an accomplice at this game, so he could never get him put to justice. It was a hard life on his farm.

But all that might change now that he was a Rider of the Riddermark. Crops could be resown. Watches could be placed on his land, and the nasty character caught. Hopefully life would be good.

Garnae brushed his hand through his blonde hair sighing. The White Horse Inn . Time to put his spirit at ease with a good dose of ale. Garnae didn't drink much, not having many friends. As he entered the wooden door, tying up Creon at the door who whistled annoyedly, he spied a young woman at a table alone. As if driven by fate, he sat next to her...

[piosenniel]

Mithalwen's character

NAME: Elfride

AGE: 28

RACE: Rohirrim

GENDER: female

WEAPONS (No magical, super-hero, mithril weapons. Just good solid Middle-earth weapons and armor only that is appropriate to the race of the character and the time period.): Sword, property of her late husband. Sharp clasp knife that could be used as a weapon at need.

APPEARANCE: Tall, grey eyes, golden blonde hair prematurely showing a few threads of silver.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:Elfride's naturally merry heart has been subdued by the losses she has suffered. She manges her farm and house, can handle a sword competently and a horse extremely well and as well as the usual skills appropriate to a woman of her kind (of a well established and prosperous though not noble family) she has a particular knowledge of herblore and healing. To those ignorant of her story her restraint and reserve can be seen as coldness. Inside she is torn by guilt from her failure to save her daughter's life and struggles with her instinct to overprotect her surviving child.

HISTORY:

Elfride is the daughter and sister of career soldiers. Her father was killed at the battle of the Pelennor Fields. Aged seventeen, she married, Theomund, a friend and fellow officer of her brother, who took her to live on his family's farm near Mayonette's village.

There she bore a son, Elfthain, and a daughter Matilda. Elfride's relationship with her mother in law had a difficult start but they overcame this and Theomund's mother passed on teh benefit of her lifetime's experience of healing and midwifery.

Three years ago, Elfride's happiness was shattered when Theomund was killed on an expedition undertaken by the kings of Gondor and Rohan against the last allies of Sauron in the Southlands. Her daughter and mother in law were killed by the strange fever that had afflicted the village a year before, which was beyond her skill to heal. Now Elfride is alone for reluctanctly she has entrusted her ten year old son to her brother's care that he may learn warfare.

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Mithalwen's post

"Well they have gone, Leif" Elfride murmured turning her face into the grey horse's mane as those she loved most in the world, her son and her brother. Elwin, and his family, finally disappeared from view. Elfthain had looked so happy, the excitement of the adventure for now overriding distress at parting temporarily with his mother. He had wanted to ride Leif himself, disdaining his old pony but this his mother had refused. It was one thing to let him ride his father's warhorse in the paddock at home, another across the open plains of Rohan. As a compromise she had offered him her own horse. The smaller and sweet tempered palfrey would take care of his rider and give her one less thing to worry about but would give her beloved boy the dignity of riding a proper horse.

'Thain had tried to take his father's sword too but Elwin, seeing the distress in his sister's eyes had told him he must earn it first. For Elwin the scene was too close to the one that had taken place but a few yards from this spot three years before when he had led Leif back to Edoras and placed Theomund's sword in his sister's hands. The empty saddle had brutally broken the news of her widowhood before word could be spoken.

He wished she would join them on his new assignment. It was not healthy for a young woman to live surrounded by ghosts. He had thought that she would not allow herself to be parted from the boy and trusting to this he had been forceful in his arguements. He had been astounded when she had permitted her son to go without her and refused to explain beyond saying that her affairs at the farm and in the village could not be arranged so quickly. He knew she had promised her son that they would not be long separated and hoped that she would join them ere long.

If Elfride was not ready to leave the ghosts of her past, neither was she ready to face them in her otherwise empty house. She would go to the inn and take a meal she felt no hunger for in order to delay her return and avoid the forlorn task of cooking for herself alone later.

She entrusted her horse to the ostler and brushing down her blue riding habit she entered the inn. This was rather finer garb than she would have worn had the journey not involved an encounter with her sister in law, of whose refined Gondorian manners Elfride still was somewhat in awe. Many in Edoras thought Elwin, Captain of the Mark, quite good enough a match for a lady's maid. The fact was that Gilwen had been a handmaid of Queen Lothiriel and spoke the elf tongue as easily as the Westron. The sisters in law had grown fond of each other but Elfride still had moments of feeling like a peasant in comparison.

The inn was quite busy and she drew little attention in her quiet corner, eating little, absorbed with her own thoughts it was a while before she realised that she was not the only person from the village in the inn. She knew the girls of course, but not especially well. They were not so far apart in age but Elfride felt much older. They were still children when she had arrived as a young bride and her swift progression to motherhood had placed her more often in the the circles of older matrons than younger maids. They were nice girls but she was not sure she wanted company just now and it seemed as if they had concerns of their own.